‘Only Rosie’s famous herbal tea,’ said Finn. ‘Although itisstrong.’
‘Uh huh,’ said Trent, although he looked unconvinced. ‘Well, Finn, what kind of design are you looking at?’
‘A guitar,’ Finn said readily. He pulled out his phone and flicked through his photos. After many, many selfies and lots of pictures of the beach and Cleo, he paused on a guitar. It was the starburst one Charlie had been working on before he’d died, and which Finn had mentioned wanting to finish.
The choice surprised me. I’d almost expected him to opt for a cartoon character or a meme. Or one of the stock choices from the wall – a butterfly or a wildflower. A guitar almost felt like … a Noah choice.
Not that I was thinking about Noah right now.
Finn sat patiently as Trent sketched out the tattoo, adjusting it here and there to make sure it would contour to Finn’sforearm. As he worked, I browsed the art on the walls and flipped through the magazines and albums on the ornate coffee table in the waiting room. Trent’s art was fascinating: it seemed to shimmer and shift. The butterflies looked as though they were about to burst off their subjects’ skin, while the roses appeared to bloom. Every piece was mesmerizing, and I wondered what they’d look like on my own skin.
‘How’s that?’ Trent said finally, when he’d made his final adjustments to the sketch.
Finn nodded, then held out his arm. ‘Let’s do this thing, man.’
‘Actually, I’ve changed my mind,’ I said. ‘I want one as well.’
And I knew exactly what it would be.
Chapter 26
HEY THERE, PUMPKIN
Pumpkin-carving night at the Hammer and Thistle had rolled around, and Tiff and Lara had booked us a spot. Finn and Noah were helping Rosie with her latest design odyssey: she’d decided to replace the curtains, and needed someone tall to help with installation. Mom had used that as an excuse to hang out with her favourite thing in the world: her email.
The bar was the only one in town – most people preferred to get drunk on the beach or at their beach houses, after all – and it was a cosy destination decorated with green tile and glimmering brass. The furniture was soft with velvet and tweed, and moody oil paintings dotted the walls. Long trestle tables and benches filled the patio outside, which glowed with string lights and this year’s entries into the fundraiser auction, including Rosie’s dried flower animals.
Sometimes live bands and pop-up vendors would set up out on the patio; other times, when the weather wasn’t having it, they’d squeeze inside and play to a packed room. Tonight, pumpkins of all shapes and sizes were stacked high all over the patio area for patrons to choose from. Each pumpkin had a name, and could be yours for a small donation that benefited the town.
But there were so many. Where to start? I browsed the pumpkin stacks, trying to choose a pumpkin that looked likeit might be good for carving. But how were you supposed to choose when you didn’t even know what you were going to carve?
‘We have stencils,’ said the older, impressively buff woman who was helping with the donations. I recognized her from the bocce courts down by the beach: Wendy. She’d played with Rosie a few times, and had tried to rope Rosie into a bodybuilding competition. Rosie had only managed a few half-hearted weights sessions at the gym, but shehadturned up to the show to cheer on her friend. I should’ve pitched the concept to Eddie.
‘She’ll take Gourdy,’ said Lara, rolling her eyes. ‘C’mon. They’ll rot by the time you choose.’
I paid my donation and hefted the bright-orange pumpkin. Tiff chose a mottled white-and-green one called Blue Cheese, and Lara opted for a tall squash-like thing called ‘King Richard’.
‘I’m not going to ask,’ I said.
‘Oh, I did,’ said Lara, with a grin. ‘And yes, it’s rude. Which is exactly what I was hoping. I am so going to win the grand prize.’
The ‘grand prize’ was a giant pumpkin forklifted to your location of choice – within a one mile radius – followed by a photoshoot with said giant pumpkin.
‘Itwouldmake a great backdrop for your next work photo,’ I agreed.
We lugged our squashes inside, plonking them down on the bar.
‘Nice pumpkins, ladies,’ said the bartender, a handsome guy with slicked-back hair who I was pretty sure was Trent’s partner. I’d seen them together at the grocery store a few times. ‘Trent’s work there, huh.’
He pointed to my side, where my shirt had ridden up to reveal the clear plastic that was protecting my new hummingbird tattoo.
‘You got a tattoo?’ I’d never seen Lara so impressed withme. Well, not since I’d covered my first Major League Baseball game and we’d got free tickets to the afterparty. She pulled up my shirt for closer inspection.
‘Wow, Molly. Look at you go. Miss Indecisive here has committed to having something on her body for the rest of her life. It took her fifteen minutes just to pick a pumpkin,’ she explained to the bartender.
‘There was some peer pressure going on,’ said Tiff, who’d just returned from powdering her nose. ‘Finn was there,’ she added by way of explanation, and I didn’t miss the hint of judgement.
Lara cocked her head curiously. Although that might have been because she thought the bartender at the Hammer and Thistle was cute. Actually,allthe bartenders at the Hammer and Thistle were cute. Rosie believed there was some sort of glamour running on the place, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she was right.
