So many people dreamed of blowing up their lives and taking off. Going somewhere new, starting fresh.
And I was one of the lucky few who could actually do it.
My therapist told me to list the things that made me feel happy and put them in a journal.
During that exercise, the tiny town in Vermont I’d visited with friends came to me. We were here for my friend Liz’s bachelorette weekend. We’d stayed at the most gorgeous inn and spa and spent our days hiking and sipping maple lattes.
On that trip, I’d felt like myself for the first time in years.
So I called my sister Giovanna, one of New York’s most successful and ruthless headhunters, and told her to find a job for me in Vermont.
My older sister, while not big on empathy or quality time, delivered in a big way. And within a few months, I was packing up and heading north.
Marketing for the financial services industry was a hell of a lot different from maple syrup, but numbers were numbers, and this job made me feel more empowered and creative every day.
Not long after I’d moved into my little bungalow, I saw a flier for the No Book Club in the coffee shop, and it piqued my interest. Joining a book club was the exact kind of thing the new small-town, relaxed Evie would do.
Once upon a time, it had actually been a book club, but the members had vastly different tastes, making it difficult to choose books, so the group descended into chaos. Eventually, they revamped, and now we read any book we want and then show up.
Or we didn’t. There was no rule stating that a member must read a book to attend. Which was great for moments like this, because I didn’t even have time to shower, let alone read.
Our get-togethers consisted mainly of eating snacks and gossiping, with a side of random activities. Like the time Dr. Chao, I mean Liz, convinced us to go line dancing in Birch Hollow.
Last fall, Frankie had talked us into driving down to Springfield for a monster truck rally. It was an experience, for sure.
It took some time, but once I was settled here, I began to discover myself and make the most incredible friends.
As we chatted and ate and admired the adorable baby clothes, I was filled with warmth and contentment.
“Are we going to talk about your handsome squatter?” Etienne asked, gazing out the back window to where Jasper’s tent was set up. “Didn’t realize you were living together.”
My stomach lurched. “We’re not.”
“She lets him sleep in the yard, like a dog,” Frankie said. “Best place for him.”
Basil rolled his eyes with a huff. Frankie’s anti-man stance was nothing new.
“He wants to be close by to help out,” I said. Yes, it was weird, but in a way, it kind of made sense. “He works twenty-four-hour shifts, so he wants to get as much time with Vincent as he can.”
Basil nodded, though his expression was skeptical. He was clearly not buying what I was selling. “Where is he now?”
“At the farm. He works there with his brother doing…” My voice trailed off. What did he do there? Honestly, aside from tapping the trees and collecting sap, I didn’t have the first clue.
I knew a lot about maple syrup. It came with the job description. But I didn’t know much about how we got the sap or how the land and trees were cultivated.
The Lawrence farm was big. I knew that. And they had several employees. Jasper had mentioned that his brother had bought the adjacent farm from their aunt and uncle when they were ready to retire.
“You haven’t been?” he asked, one brow cocked. “It’s not that far.”
I shook my head. “I’ve been holed up here with Vincent, and Jasper always comes to us.”
Damn, out loud, that sounded shitty. The farm was part of Jasper’s identity, and I’d never taken Vincent there. Jasper hadn’t really even pushed me to introduce him to his family.
It occurred to me, as I surveyed his little campsite, that he was making all the effort.
My heart sank. Wow. When had I turned into such a selfish person?
“Seriously? You could be out there watching that man throw hay bales and chop wood, and you’ve elected not to?” Ruby practically shouted. “You need your head examined.”
