“Is what true?” she asked.
“The design. Is it yours?”
She heaved a shaky breath, lifted her eyes to look at the foyer, which they’d painted the same Twilit Stars blue as the Lapis Room. It was dark and lovely, pulling guests into the intrigue of the Everwood Inn. Later, they’d add an ivory area rug patterned with navy and goldenrod circles, armless chairs in similar colors set underneath domed amber sconces.
Astrid was right.
Jordan loved what she’d created.
She’d loved creating it.
In the last few weeks, she’d tried not to. It was too hard, loving something you made that you had to give away, but that was the very nature of art. She’d done it before, with every piece of furniture she’d ever created, and she was prepared to do it with this project too. It was the only option that made sense, the only wayInnside Americacould happen for all of them.
Jordan wasn’t a designer.
She was just a carpenter who loved her family’s home, who fucked up everything she touched.
Including the Everwood Inn. Because she knew this was over. Natasha would never continue filming Astrid as lead designer now, and they’d lost too much time, the reno was too far along to start over with Jordan.
“So is it?”
The new voice startled Jordan out of her thoughts. She turned to see Natasha in the library’s doorway, Emery right beside her. Pru stood behind them, and Jordan’s heart nearly broke at the sight of her. They’d have to sell. No way they’d ever recoup the money her grandmother had borrowed to do this renovation withoutInnside America’s exposure.
Even if Jordan lied right now, what was the point? Astrid was gone—she’d never walk back into this inn ever again, Jordan knew that for a fact. She’d be too humiliated, and Simon, once he realized the scope of everything that had gone on with the design, would be too pissed to let her.
“Yeah,” she finally said. “It’s true.”
For a second, hope bloomed. Maybe Natasha—who Jordan knew loved the design—would figure out how to make this work. Maybe they had enough footage without Astrid to cobble together some semblance of an episode. Maybe notInnside America’s best, but wouldn’t that be better than wasting all the footage they did have, all the money the network must have spent on crew and lodging and equipment? Maybe—
But as Simon uttered a soft “Fuck” next to her, as her eyes met Natasha’s and she saw the disappointment there, the resignation, all of those maybes popped like soap bubbles drifting through the air.
Chapter Thirty-two
THE EMAIL OFFICIALLYterminating Astrid’s contract with the Everwoods came the next day. Astrid had turned her phone off—Jordan had called several times after she had left the inn and there was no way Astrid could talk to her yet—so the curt missive from Simon had pinged into her email when Astrid had opened her laptop to turn on a bad movie to watch in bed.
Dear Ms. Parker,
Per the terms of our agreement, this is written notice to inform you that Everwood Inn is dissolving our partnership with Bright Designs based on clause 3.1, which stipulates the client may terminate the contract on the basis of project dissatisfaction. Thank you for your time.
Sincerely,
Simon Everwood
She snapped her laptop closed, then pulled the covers over her head, where she stayed for the next ten hours.
SHE DIDN’T REMEMBERhearing the doorbell. But knowing Iris, she hadn’t even rung it. Both Claire and Iris had keys to Astrid’s house, a decision she was now regretting when she opened her eyes after a Tylenol PM–induced sleep to find her two best friends and her stepsister staring down at her with concerned expressions on their faces. She groaned and rolled over, hoping presenting her back communicated a clear message ofGet the hell out of my house.
But of course, it didn’t. Not with this crew.
“We brought supplies,” Iris said, plopping down on the bed. Astrid heard the crinkle of a paper bag, but she didn’t turn around.
“Ice cream, chips, and a giant box of really bad wine,” Iris went on.
“Go away,” Astrid said.
“Not happening, sweetie,” Claire said. She came around to the other side of the bed so she could see Astrid, then knelt down on the floor and rested her forearms on the mattress.
Astrid sighed and rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. “What day is it?”
