“Nope. Just about me.”

“What are you doing up there? Are you with someone?” she practically whispered. “I forget her name. Susan, or is it someone new by now?”

“I’m by myself,” Emory bit out. Which was precisely how she wanted it. She’d been in Napa, more specifically Calistoga, for several weeks now. The slower pace was exactly what she needed to gain some perspective and lick her self-inflicted wounds. She spent her days painting and reading books, either at the small house she’d rented or on the property of some of her favorite wineries. She kept mostly to herself, but enjoyed the anonymity the small tourist town offered.

The nights were admittedly more difficult. It was in the later hours that her thoughts drifted to Sarah and Grace and the future she’d grown to hope for. It had been idealistic of her, she knew, and in the end, where had it left her? In the midst of a—what exactly was this? A mid-life crisis? A re-examination of her place in this world? Who the hell knew?

“Why don’t I come out and spend some time with you?” Vanessa offered as if talking to a not so intelligent child.

“I’d rather drive a dagger into my skull.” Whoops. Too honest?

“Excuse me?” Vanessa sputtered. Her enthusiasm deflated like a popped balloon.

“Just a joke.” A lie. “But I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be here, plus you have the girls. I’d hate to take you from them. Stay right where you are. All the way in Colorado.”

“You’re acting strange.”

Emory had to agree. All of a sudden, she was quite comfortable saying anything and everything on her mind, and that had the makings of a perfect storm. “Hey, Vanessa, someone’s at the door. Better run. Door people hate waiting.” She ended the call just in time. Another minute and she might not have been so nice.

She looked to Walter who sat dutifully at her feet. “That did not go well,” she said. “I think it got five degrees colder in here when she called. What do you think?” His tail thumped wildly in support.

She carried the brushes she’d been working with over to the small sink in the kitchen and set about cleaning them thoroughly. She’d gotten paint all over her cutoff overalls, but it wasn’t like she minded. It had been a productive session.

The brushes had been her birthday gift from Grace, and she handled them with the care she would a newborn child. She knew from the brand name that they had been fairly expensive, and the gesture was not lost on her. There had been a small note attached to the wrapped package, and despite her heart’s protests, her mind thought it a good idea to play the words back in her head several times a day as some form of sick torture. “Happy Birthday, Emory. I hope your dreams come true. Maybe one day, you’ll want to use these again. Love, Grace.” Along with them had come a canvas from Sarah, another expensive purchase.

She thought a lot about Sarah and the hole she’d left and wasn’t sure how to get her old life back on track, hence her sabbatical. She needed new surroundings, a different routine, and some space from the people she knew if she was ever going to allow herself to heal. However, she couldn’t deny that the existence of Sarah and Grace in her life had kindled something within her, a renewed outlook on what her life could potentially be. And even if she couldn’t have them, she refused to discount what they had done for her soul.

Since she’d been in Calistoga, she’d fallen down the rabbit hole and rediscovered her love of painting, and it was not lost on her that this never would have happened had she not met Sarah. There was something that felt so very right about picking up a brush again, almost like coming home. Emory lost herself in her creations for hours at a time, shocked when she glanced up at the clock.

Her work, now that she was older, seemed heavier, soulful. She thought back to her first night in town and the moment she’d set to painting for the first time in years. The result of that night’s effort sat unassumingly against the wall in her bedroom. She’d stared at it, transfixed, for hours the following day with virtually no memory of painting it. It was like her hands had taken over, needing desperately to re-create the face that had the ability to make her feel so much.

Having had time to think, she’d resolved herself to the fact that all had worked out how it was supposed to. Sarah was from a place of warmth and was incredibly likable, representative of all things good. Her family was tight-knit and loving. Emory had been out of her depth.

But no more.

If nothing else, she could at least learn from Sarah. Emory vowed to herself that she would continue to grow and explore who she was and had the potential to be. The first step had been to take a step back from Global Newswire and gather her bearings. She’d lost perspective, she understood that now, and her life was becoming the Owen cliché. Fortunately, Lucy had been more than understanding and even applauded her decision when they’d met about it over coffee.

“I think this is a good move. This place can run without you for a few months. And I promise I won’t run the company to wrack and ruin. Everything will be waiting for you when you return.”

Emory smiled at her and set down her mug. “Thanks, Luce. I have nothing but faith in your ability to handle everything.”

Lucy reached across the small table that separated them and covered Emory’s hand with her own. “You can still call her, Em. This doesn’t have to be the end.”

She pulled her hand back. “Even if I wanted to, you didn’t see the look in her eyes when she walked off. I’d rather she shot me than looked at me that way. Plus, my mind’s made up, Lucy, and it’s up to me to figure out what to do with myself now.”

Lucy studied her. “Things are different, aren’t they? You’re different now.”

Emory nodded, knowing that important changes had and would continue to take place in her life. “The last few months—Mother dying so suddenly, meeting Sarah and Grace, growing to love them and then losing them both too—these months have given me new perspective. Before Sarah, I wasn’t living, Lucy, not the way I should have been. I need to do that now. It may have to be on my own, but I have to find a way to do more than just stay ahead at the office. Life is too short.”

“Now this is the kind of thing I’ve been dying to hear you say for years now.” Lucy came around the table and folded her into a tight hug. “I’m proud of you, Em, and grateful to Sarah for her role in this.”

Emory finished cleaning the brushes, stored her paints away for a future session, and took a long, hot bath. The water felt amazing against her already sore muscles and she took her time, allowing the unwinding process to have its full effect. She would never have allowed herself so much down time just four short weeks ago. Her days and nights had been scheduled to the minute, and even if she did have an evening at home, it was with a stack of work in hand.

She snuggled into bed for the night, Walter curled up at her feet, her always-loyal companion. She reached down and stroked his thick fur, earning an appreciative sigh.

After switching off the small lamp by her bed, Emory took a deep breath and made a cognitive decision to close off her mind. Beautiful hazel eyes had a tendency of creeping their way into her subconscious, and once that happened, sleep was a lost cause.

Tomorrow is a new day, she reminded herself, and she would find a way to somehow make it a good one.

*

November was definitely no October, Sarah decided. Not even close. The golden, glorious blue sky of October had been replaced by November’s bleak, daylight savings-induced darkness. The tree branches were bare and skeletal against the depressing pale sky. The temperatures had dropped considerably and she never did purchase herself that new jacket. Sarah hated November. It couldn’t win as far as she was concerned.