Page 35 of Goode Tidings

His face gives nothing away, and in a bored tone, he answers, "Dope."

Eden blinks twice, like she's surprised by the word choice. Recovering, she asks, "Did you have fun next door?"

"Yeah. Eugenio's mom said he had chores to do, so I came home." He looks at our plates with their smattering of crumbs. "Did you make cupcakes?"

Eden smiles with relief. "Of course. It was your first day of school." She retrieves the plate with the remaining cupcakes from the kitchen. "What else would I be doing with my day?"

Oliver eyes me. "Making a new friend."

Hmm. Well. Alright. I do believe that's my cue to leave. "Speaking of ways people spend their time." The chair legs scrape the ground as I push back. "I have more work to do before I'm done for the day."

"Weren't you on your way out somewhere?" Eden asks. "Before you stopped by?"

I like the way she rewrote me hiding in the shadows of the cabin into stopping by. "I was actually going for coffee. The stuff in the office leaves a lot to be desired." Grabbing the cup I made here, I finish it off. "Got my caffeine fix, so I'm headed back down to keep working." I take my cup to the sink, using a long-handled brush where the soap dispenses from the bristles to wash my cup. The brush wasn't there before Eden took over this place, and I can't deny its convenience.

"See you some other time," I say on my way past the table where Eden grills Oliver about every aspect of his first day of high school. My gaze falls on the wax seals spread across the table. "You could sell those, you know. They're beautiful."

Eden looks them over, already shaking her head no. Eyes locking on mine, she says with utter certainty, "Sometimes, the point of beauty is simply for it to exist. Not for it to be used."

CHAPTER 17

Eden

Today's the day the artists at Blossom learn which design the interior design power couple chose to add to their spring line. I don't have confidence it will be mine. I'm in the company of many other talented artists, and I played it safe with a Beatrix Potter style egg hunting scene.

I'm at the kitchen table two minutes before the meeting is set to begin. My computer is out and ready. My coffee with half-and-half and toffee syrup is piping hot. My hair is done, and my makeup, too. On my bottom half are pajama pants and fluffy socks; up top, I'm wearing a professional-looking blouse.

I'm as ready to go as it's possible to be, but internally, a sense of impending doom dampens my mood.

It's hard to describe, but things have felt off since the moment I woke up.

I drew blood when I bit the inside of my cheek while munching my way through pumpkin pancakes. I burned my tongue on my first cup of coffee, and smacked my head on an open cabinet. Oliver left for the bus without saying goodbye, but I knew better than to open the front door and yell a farewell at his retreating form.

The meeting begins. Angelique introduces Becca and Michael McMann, giving us all a biography and introduction we don't need because a person would have to be living under a rock to not know these two. "I'll let Becca and Michael announce whose design they chose," Angelique says with a pleased purr.

Becca takes over, grinning her megawatt smile. She looks different than she does on TV. A lot less hairspray, and no signature purple tool belt. Michael looks the same. A little bit of a doofus, but a good guy.

Becca starts by profusely thanking us all for submitting our designs for their consideration. She smiles wide, waxing poetic about what a tough choice this was and how it was nearly impossible to choose. "Michael and I went back-and-forth, carefully considering each design. But in the end, there was one that really spoke to us." She pauses for dramatic effect. "Charles, we chose The Circus Meets Easter."

My head rears back, and then my screen changes. Angelique is screen-sharing.

There it is.

Circus animals wearing bunny ears search for shimmery pastel eggs. On a textured emerald green backdrop.

My heart thumps hard. I loved that design, from concept to submittal. I poured my heart into it, worked on it tirelessly. And when I'd shown it to Charles last year, he vetoed it. Claimed it was too fantastical. Angelique will never go for it, he'd said.

And then he, apparently, tucked my design in his back pocket and passed it off as his own a year later.

My lips open, my jaw moves rhythmically, but no sound comes out. No words, no cry of indignation. That's mine! The yell sticks in my throat. I can't cause a scene in front of Becca and Michael. Angelique would never forgive me. I know what this collaboration means to her, to Blossom Paperie. But it's mine. They chose me, not Chuck-wad.

I turn off my camera. Mute my microphone. Sit in shock while they ramble on. The meeting ends, but I stay in my seat, attempting to sort my thoughts.

The first thing I'll do is go to Angelique. There's no use confronting Charles. He'll deny, or gaslight, or some other bullshit. I'll have to look back in my files and emails and gather my proof.

A sense of determination energizes me. I am going to take this fucker down. Steal my designs? I don't think so. I'm going to⁠—

"Come to congratulate me, boss?"