Chapter 18
Luna
“Never be afraid to sketch outside the lines.”
—Eloisa Hobby
Her night with Paul had been phenomenal—their heart-to-heart chat, the miracle of the hatching butterflies, tending the plants together . . .
Kissing him.
All Luna wanted to do was find Paul and hang out with him all day, but of course, she couldn’t do that. He had plants to tend, and she had a quilt to design.
Ugh.
She was still reeling over what Jeanie had done, even as she chose to forgive her. What she needed was space to give her creativity time to bloom. She couldn’t do that if she was elbow-to-elbow at the quilting table with Mom. And from a purely practical standpoint, they had nothing to sew until Luna came up with an award-winning design.
But maybe Artie would come with her. She hadn’t spent much time with her daughter, and she felt guilty about that. The poor kid didn’t have access to the internet.
To coax Artie from her bed, she descended on the kitchen where Vivian stood at the waffle maker, cooking up waffles as guests served themselves from the buffet. Neither her mother nor daughter were among them.
“Can I borrow a serving tray?” Luna asked. “I want to serve my daughter breakfast in bed.”
“Most certainly. Help yourself.”
Luna poured two cups of coffee and settled them on the serving tray she gleaned from a stack on the counter. She added two Danishes, one cheese and one cherry, and toted the tray up the stairs to Artie’s bedroom. With her hands full, she couldn’t knock, so she settled for lightly kicking the door.
“Artie, it’s Mom. Open up. I’ve got breakfast.”
No answer.
Luna tapped her foot against the door a second time and in an upbeat singsong voice, she said, “Danishes and coffee for the coolest girl I know.”
The door opened. Artie peered out, blinking and yawning, her hair mussed and sticking out from her head. She closed one eye and squinted hard. “What time is it?”
“Twenty minutes to seven. Rise and shine.”
“Ugh. You are far too cheerful.” Artie left the door hanging open and padded back to bed in her boy shorts and Billie Eilish T-shirt she wore as pajamas. She fell face-first into the covers.
With the blackout curtains drawn, the room was as dark as a cave. Luna placed the tray on the dresser, and then flung open the curtains.
Hissing like a vampire, Artie rolled over, covering her face with her arm. No morning person, this child. Luna had been the same at fifteen.
That’s when she saw Artie’s scraped knees and a long, shallow scratch running down her right arm.
“What happened?”
“Huh?” Artie blinked.
“Your knees. Your arm.”
“Oh, those.” She waved her hand. “No biggie.”
“Come on, get up. It’s a beautiful morning.” Concerned about her daughter’s wounds but knowing Artie could get testy when pushed, Luna backtracked to the dresser, picked up a coffee mug and the cheese Danish, and plunked into the chair beside Artie’s bed.
She took a sip of coffee and then bit through the glossy sheen of the egg-washed pastry.
The warm aroma wafted to her nose as her teeth sank into the crisp buttery dough. The cool softness of the cheese filling contrasted with the crisp flaky pastry. A medley of flavors tingled her tongue—cream cheese, vanilla, and just a hint of lemon. The most delicious Danish she ever put into her mouth. Then again, everything she’d eaten on Hobby Island had been spectacular.
“This is sooo good. You better get your Danish before I eat it.” Luna pretended to go for the other pastry. “They’re addictive.”
“Fine.” Artie hauled herself off the bed and dove for it.
Luna sipped her coffee, enjoying the hazelnut flavoring. Her gaze fell on Artie’s Doc Martens kicked off at the foot of the bed. The shoes looked wet and caked with sand and next to the shoes sat a wicker basket filled with beach debris and broken doll parts.
Ah, the mystery deepened. Artie’s wounds were starting to make sense.
“Did you sneak out last night to beachcomb?”
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.” Artie stirred three packets of sugar into her coffee and guzzled it.
Her maternal instinct pushed her to confront Artie about her midnight escapades, but prudence held her back. Artie was growing up and making her own decisions. Maybe Luna did need to loosen the apron strings a little. She knew she held on too tightly.
Taking in a deep breath, Luna sat with that realization while Artie attacked the Danish with gusto.
“Mmm, delish.”
Luna cleared her throat. “I have a request.”
“Ask away.” Artie noshed her pastry.
“Would you explore the island with me today? I need inspiration for your grandmother’s quilt design, and I don’t want to go by myself.”
“Shooting for an island theme, huh? Classic.”
“We have to, it’s in the rules.”
“Bummer. Rules are restrictive.”
“Actually, I think rules enhance creativity. Rules give art shape.” Luna was about to say something about how following rules kept you safe, a roundabout way to chastise Artie for sneaking out, but instead she let it go. Some things weren’t worth a battle.
“If you say so.”
“Remember that mural I painted in the playroom when you and Beck were little?”
“For sure. All the kids in the neighborhood wanted to come hang out in that room. You’re a talented artist, Mom.”
“You’ll come with me to explore the island?” Luna crossed her fingers. It had been ages since they’d done something lighthearted together. “I want to see the turtle preserve.”
“No, you don’t,” Artie said with authority.
“No?”
“Trust me, Wicked Martha is for realz, and you don’t want to mess with that old leatherback.”
Luna’s gaze flicked to Artie’s skinned knees. Don’t ask. Instead, she nodded at the wicker basket on the floor. “What’s up with the doll parts?”
“Um, nothing.” Artie shrugged.
Luna got up and walked over to the basket. She stared down at the glassy eyes of a toddler-size baby doll covered in barnacles. “Goodness, they’re a little creepy.”
“They’re a lot creepy. That’s why I like them.”
“You’re just going to keep them?” Luna had a strong urge to wash her hands after just looking at the sea-roughened dolls.
“Yep.”
“And do what with them?”
“What’s wrong, Mom? Scared I’m gonna make voodoo dolls?” Artie wriggled her eyebrows for comic effect.
“That hadn’t occurred to me.” Until now. Artie did enjoy a goth aesthetic.
“Nah, just messin’ with you. I had an idea for an art project. I’m gonna enter the recycled art competition with my friend Orion.”
Oh boy, maybe this was where she should bring up Orion’s dad and Luna’s relationship to him, but Artie kept right on talking.
“We’re gonna meet up later today and work on our art project together. First, we gotta go to the visitors’ center and enter the contest. That’s why I can’t go exploring with you.”
“Well, good luck with your project. I’m excited to see what you create.” She leaned over to kiss the top of Artie’s head.
“Thanks for the breakfast.” Artie hopped off the bed and padded over to draw the blackout curtains closed again. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I’m gonna snag more z’s.”
Feeling dismissed, Luna gathered up the dishes and went back downstairs.
Back in the kitchen, she asked Vivian if she could have two blueberry muffins. “For a snack,” she explained. “I’ll be exploring the island on my own today.”
“Aah.” Vivian nodded. “A pilgrimage. Sometimes being by oneself is exactly what the soul needs.”
“Thank you.” Luna picked up two muffins, put them in a sandwich bag, filled her water bottle, and added them to her tote with her sketchbook and pencils. The pressure was on. Time to come up with a design that would blow the contest judges’ minds.
Determined to return with something noteworthy, Luna left the B&B and started for Trouble Ridge. No, correction, Opportunity Ridge. This would be a positive day. She decreed it so.
The hike from the Nestled Inn to the top of the ridge was five miles, one way. While Luna ran every morning, and was in decent cardiovascular shape, her calves complained about the steep incline. She should add more hills to her regular running routine.
Jacaranda trees lined the road to the top of the ridge, their lovely blossoms decorating her path. Whenever she stepped on a petal, it released a sweet, rich scent into the air and bathed her in lavender. She paused to take pictures.
Two hours later, Luna arrived at the ridge summit and looked down at an amazing view of the valley. The whole island was visible from up here, glistening like a priceless jewel. All purple and pink, surrounded by blue-green water.
For the longest time, she stared, slack-jawed in awe. To the east lay Crafters’ Corner. To the west, the turtle preserve. To the south, the lighthouse. In the middle of the island, Prism Pavilion, and the butterfly hatchery. For a long while, she absorbed the beauty, integrating it into her body. Her pounding heart matched the rhythm of the ocean waves crashing against the shoreline below.
Luna spied the ferry docking at Marshmallow Landing and watched as people got off, several in uniform. They were shop personnel, she realized, arriving from Everly and headed for Crafters’ Corner to begin their workday at ten.
Inhaling the spirit of the island, Luna found a large flat rock to perch on, reached into her tote, and pulled out her sketchbook and pencils. At first, she drew lightly, taking tentative steps on this new journey. It had been so long since she designed anything.
Then she grew more confident and drew bolder lines, swept away by the island’s magic. Inspiration flowed from her eyes to her brain to her fingers to the sketchbook. She created sketch after sketch, page after page, refining, revising, reworking. Each picture better than the one before. Possessed by the island’s muse, she dropped into the creative zone.
This work was special, certainty stamped on every page.
Together, with her mom’s sewing skills and Luna’s artistry, they could win the quilting contest. Luna felt it in her bones. The sketches would require more detail work, of course, but she nailed the overall concept, and she couldn’t wait to show Jeanie. It was as if she channeled some grand master artist—van Gogh, Rembrandt, da Vinci . . . Grandma Moses. Never too late.
That made her laugh.
She took a break, stood up, ate a blueberry muffin, drank some water, and flipped through the sketches. The only thing missing was the focal point that would tie everything together.
Should she use turtles? Or butterflies? Or the lighthouse? Or the jacaranda trees? All four seemed pretty obvious, but she hadn’t visited the turtle preserve. Deciding right now was difficult. She still had research to do, but she made a good start. A productive morning.
Slipping back into the creative zone, she plunked back down to elaborate on the initial drawings, adding deeper values, more contrast between light and dark. Luna was so engrossed in her work she didn’t hear someone approaching until a shoe snapped a twig on the path behind her.
She whipped around, closing the sketchbook and bringing it to her chest—hiding her drawings, protecting her work. Too much had been taken from her for Luna to let anyone copy her quilt design.
“Oh, hello!” a feminine voice called out. “I see someone else was aiming for a bird’s-eye view of the island.”
It was Nanette. She wore a festive light green romper with a sunflower print and a wide-brim sun hat, and she carried a sketchbook identical to Luna’s.
“Do you mind if I join you?” Nanette didn’t wait for her answer. She toddled over, a little breathless, perspiration pearling her upper lip. She smelled like weed and peppermint.
Luna didn’t want to offend the woman, but she did mind. Her tranquility was broken, and she stood up. “I was just leaving. Have my spot. It’s the perfect vantage point.”
“Oh please, don’t run off. I was hoping we could chat.”
Luna had an uneasy feeling that Nanette had followed her, but was that true or was her suspicious nature in overdrive?
“I suppose I could stay a few minutes longer.” Forcing herself to soften, Luna sat back down, secured her sketchbook with a rubber band, and settled it in her lap with her hands on top.
“Did you get some good sketching in?” Nanette sat on the rock beside her.
“I did.”
“May I see?” Nanette leaned in closer.
Luna shook her head. “I’m not ready to show it. As an artist, I’m sure you understand.”
“Say no more.” Nanette raised both palms. “I’ll be surprised with everyone else when you unveil your prizewinning design at the competition.”
Was the woman sincere or sarcastic? Luna didn’t know but she’d keep a sharp eye on her. “Why, thank you, Nanette. I appreciate your vote of confidence.”
“I already pegged you as my steepest competition.” Nanette turned toward her, shifting her left hip, and angling her legs toward Luna, her knees peeking from underneath the hem of her romper.
Luna reached up to brush a lock of hair from her face. Nanette did the same. The woman was mirroring her body language. Was it instinctive or intentional? Luna couldn’t decide. She smiled.
Nanette smiled back. Sincerely friendly or trying to cozy up?
Reserve judgment.
What harm would it do to believe her? If the woman had hidden intentions, Luna would handle it if it came up.
“Where are your friends?” Luna asked because she didn’t know what else to say.
Nanette blinked. “Friends?”
“Sharon and Isabelle.”
“Oh.” Nanette shook her head. “We’re not friends friends. We just know each other from meeting on the island last year. In fact, we hadn’t kept in touch at all.”
“No? Why’s that?”
Nanette shrugged. “No different than a summer romance, I suppose. In a new situation, people can bond quite easily, but you don’t really know each other. And when the reality of regular life intrudes, summer feelings evaporate like fantastical illusions.”
The way she said it made Luna wonder if she had a falling-out with Sharon and Isabelle. Nanette’s words also stirred Luna’s own fears.
About Paul . . .
And resurrecting the past.
Were her feelings for him simply nostalgia mixed with novelty and the seductive powers of Hobby Island?
“Don’t move,” Nanette said, lowering her voice.
“Wh-what?” Luna asked.
“There’s a bee on your—”
At the word bee, Luna sprang to her feet. She was allergic and hadn’t brought an EpiPen. Her sketchbook and pencils fell to the ground as she danced around waving her hands over her shoulders. “Get it off! Get it off me!”
“It’s okay, it flew away,” Nanette assured her. She picked up Luna’s sketchbook and pencil case and dusted them off.
But Luna was too busy looking around for the bee to notice what Nanette was doing. “Is the bee really gone?”
“Yes, yes. You’re bee free.” Nanette passed the sketchbook to Luna.
“Thank you,” Luna said as she glanced from one shoulder to the other. “You’re sure it’s gone.”
“Promise.”
“I think I’m gonna head out.” Clutching her sketchbook to her chest, Luna picked up her tote bag.
“Have a nice rest of your day,” Nanette said.
Luna hurried down the trail. Glancing back, she saw Nanette standing there watching her, an inscrutable expression on her face. Luna shivered despite the sunshine. Something felt off about the woman.
But what?
It wasn’t until she reached the bottom of the ridge that Luna realized the rubber band around her sketchbook was missing.