“Don’t give up so easy, May. Where’s your curiosity? It doesn’t kill the cat; it gives it a reason to live.”
Seriously. I can’t count the number of times he’d say that with the same warm rolling chuckle.
Always when Hattie and I were kids, and he’d send us on his big scavenger hunts out here or sometimes at the big house in Portland.
Back then, it was fun. The stakes were lower, and the prizes were candy or books or sometimes little silver lockets and bracelets.
Tromping around the gardens out back or the lakeshore never made me feel like a sneaky weirdo either.
No wonder Kane wishes I’d fall off the earth. It doesn’t excuse his assholery, but he has good reasons.
I hate that he had to forbid me from going into the kids’ rooms. That was a sucker punch, like I’d go snooping around for no good reason.
…but isn’t that what I did?
Shit, this is so pathetic.
I stand up and go sit on the bed.
Whatever, it’s fine.
I’ll just stay in my room guessing until the Saints aren’t here, hoping whatever that crafty old man hid isn’t perishable.
The restof my day goes by about as well as my encounter with Kane.
Ethan doesn’t know anything about the lake house or any secrets Gramps hid here, and he’s also notoriously bad at texting me back.
But that’s what happens when your older brother’s too busy being all lovey with Hattie.
I can’t be mad.
At first, it was weird, but they’re such a good couple. When the chemistry hits right, there’s no stopping it.
And now they’re both so happy it might be sickening if I didn’t love them both to death.
I only wish the chemistry wasn’t flatter than a day-old soda with my latest shoe design.
I sit down at the desk in front of my tablet with an iced matcha and try to focus, moving elements around, trying to find the magic combination.
Colors that vibe with the vision in my head.
Patterns and laces and straps that make sense, that will make people gasp with delight.
But nothing here feels cohesive, and after over an hour, it starts running together.
Everything I touch is crap today.
Flat, tired designs that wouldn’t wow anyone back in the eighties.
Nothing fresh. Nothing exciting. Nothing new.
It feels like slapping paint on a canvas and hoping you wind up with a pretty portrait by the end. But art doesn’t work that way and neither does product design.
When I close my eyes, I can see it so clearly.
Something elegant and understated.
Shoes that screamclassyandchicwithout being ridiculously flashy or some minimalist heel horror that bites your feet until they turn purple.
