I pick my phone up on the first ring.

“How’s Rune? How’d he look?” Syd asks eagerly. I’m impressed she wants to talk; her weekdays are usually too busy for anything but texts. I have more conversations with my nephew Nils these days on our weekly Zoom calls, something we’ve continued since the pandemic.

“Stressed and too handsome for his own good,” I tell her, checking over the roses (and Hydrangea leaves I clipped for the greens) for any spiders or other insects I inadvertently carted inside.

“I’m sorry he’s stressed but his timing is perfect,” my older sister exclaims happily.

“What? I don’t need this right now,” I tell her grumpily as I use the clippers to snip off the edges of the rose thorns so I don’t prick myself while arranging them. Has she forgotten that Rune ditched me? She’s the only one I’ve told about our falling out besides Vivienne. It’s too humiliating.

“You texted last week that you were bummed Jack went off to hike Ranier instead of waiting for you to be ready,” Syd reminds me, “Nothing makes a guy snap back to attention like a little jealousy.”

“I’m sure Rune has a girlfriend,” I hedge.

“Even if he does, Jack doesn’t need to know that right now,” Syd says, all practicality, “I doubt he’s the type to check up on celebrities on the Internet. Ask Rune to play like he’s interested in you.”

“That’s so much more your kind of thing than mine,” I say. My older sister is way more confident in these kinds of strategies than I am.

“Be bold and take a page from my book!” she encourages, “You’re following your bliss working on a new career, why not this?”

“Ha ha,” I fake laugh, “What else is up? Is Nils okay?” I change the subject.

“Nils is fine. I need to talk to you about Mom.”

“She seemed fine yesterday. Is she going into one of her funks after meeting with Pamela?” I ask, my worry engine starting up.

“No, she’s fine, annoying, but fine,” Syd sighs, “I just want to keep her focused on getting the display windows done for the Fourth of July. I had to stick my neck out to get Bill and his mom to agree to give Mom a budget.”

“I’m sure she’ll do an amazing job,” I tell her, “But how can I support you?”

“I’m a bit paranoid right now. Don’t encourage her about this new One More Midnight with You anniversary until after she finishes the windows,” Syd says, sounding very serious about her request.

“I’m delighted not to. Did she tell you Pamela Lyons wants me to convince Rune to be her social media client, and in exchange, she’ll take Mom on as a client for free?”

“Oh, God, yeah. Mom said something about that last night. You’re not going to do it, are you?” Syd sounds alarmed, “Have you seen the crazy direction Pamela has gone into?”

“No,” I tell her, “I’ve been trying to forget Pamela’s existence.”

“Me too, but I thought we should know what we’re dealing with. I Googled her. She’s devolved into a ‘fairy godmother for influencers.’ She’s now a PR hack for reality TV personalities.”

“No way,” I say, gobsmacked. This is quite a step down from leading a premier storytelling agency.

After we sign off, I look up Pamela’s Instagram account. Syd’s right about her tagline. My old boss’s feed is one photo after another of Pamela at parties, events, and promotional product photo shoots. None of this is new for her. She’s always been a social butterfly. But now, instead of promoting her clients, she’s mainly promoting herself as a guru.

There’s not much ‘there there’ to the advice she’s sharing, but people appear to be drinking it up. She has a bigger following than before. However, the majority of followers now seem to be people who want to be influencers and reality TV stars rather than her network of Hollywood powerbrokers.

After about ten minutes of scrolling, I decide I’ve had enough of Pamela’s seemingly glamorous jet-set life. I’m even more convinced she has nothing to offer Mom except maybe party invitations. If Mom won’t listen, maybe Dad will. I send him a text to see if we can chat soon when Mom’s not around.

Turning back to my rose arrangement, I pivot to thinking about Jack. It’s tempting to consider Syd’s advice to finagle Rune into helping me make Jack jealous, but I don’t think I could pull it off. She’s much more of a daredevil than I am. Although she might have a point. Maybe I’ve been too interested and available for Jack. Perhaps that’s why things have stalled.

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Back in the office, I set the vase, my much-loved Howl’s paperback, and one large almost overblown bloom on my desk and then take my time arranging them just so. I use my phone to snap pics from a variety of angles, some with the lights on, some with only natural light.

Flipping through the shots, I choose the best one by myself instead of sending my two or three favorites to Jack for his feedback. This feels rebellious but good. Jack has given me a lot of great pointers about taking better photos, but I probably rely on him too much now. I was already a decent photographer for social media when I met him.

In the post’s text, I write about how I’m both nervous and excited to finally take on this particular coloring page project. Viv has taught me it’s powerful to set your intentions. I hope Trident appreciates that I’ve done the same in what I sent them for moving forward on Horse Girls.

Worn out from the day’s stress, and worried about how things will play out tomorrow, I head up to bed earlier than normal. After a nice long rose-scented soak, I crawl into bed and enjoy visiting with my old friends Sophie, Howl, Calcifer, and Michael.

**

The first email on my phone Tuesday morning is from Trident, pushing our Zoom meeting back a day. Fine by me. I agree to a time tomorrow morning late enough Jack will have left by if he stays.

Most of my day melts by in a mix of errands, chores, playing with Butterscotch, and working on graphic designs for social media clients. I’m at a place now where unless they’re letting me do something particularly interesting and fun (like Vivienne), more and more I’m just walking through the motions. I like my clients and feel lucky I get to work for myself, but I’m bored with the routine of putting together clip art and fonts made by others.

What my pandemic-inspired coloring page experiment has reminded me is that I love to draw, especially by hand. Not just that, I’ve been teaching myself to successfully tell a story with these pages. That’s what excites me. The ability to create emotion and spark imagination with imagery. That’s what I’d hoped to learn all those years ago with an illustration degree. I wanted to create book covers and movie posters, and maybe someday, even do real animation. I still do.

I started going to school for an illustration degree at twenty after I got an AA degree in graphic design. I never finished. Working for the Pamela Lyons Agency was too time-consuming. I kept cutting back on my class load until I just stopped going back. I kept telling myself I’d return to finish when I learned better how to juggle my time.

Now I’m greedy with my drawing time, doing everything I can to have plenty of time to do my best with these illustrations. Re-reading Howl’s is giving me some fun ideas I’m excited to get started on.

I just wish I didn’t keep imagining Rune wearing elaborate wizard robes. Each time I check for his car, it’s gone. I tell myself I’m looking because I want to see Lorelei again, not my former summertime bestie. But it’s a lie. I want both. Seeing Rune has reminded me how much I miss having someone to bounce my big creative ideas off of the way we were able to when we were young.

**

I’m in the kitchen late in the afternoon making the pesto for dinner tonight. I’ve learned to prep things in advance when Jack’s coming over. He doesn’t have a long attention span for time in the kitchen.

My Northern Italian father gave me my love of cooking, but it was only when I came here that I learned that arugula is a cruciferous superfood. I just thought it was a spicy lettuce you could cook with.

Uncle Theo had always been raw-boned. He was gaunt when I arrived three days after he was officially put in hospice with congestive heart failure. I covered my dismay and heartbreak by jumping into preparing things to tempt his dwindling and now fussy appetite.

I know this recipe so well that I can make it by heart. This is when cooking really becomes my happy place. It’s soothing to crank up my music and put things together from memory. As I work, I listen to a mix of Jungle, Taylor Swift, and other catchy dance music, swaying along to the beat.

Opening the food processor, I dip in a cracker for a taste. It needs more salt and a bit more lemon, and we’re good. I’m weaning off plastic, so I fill two recycled glass jars I’ve started collecting in the pantry in the laundry room.

Jack isn’t into sweets, so next I make the delicious oily, salty pan bread Schiacciata. It’s a Tuscan version of Focaccia, but it takes less time. Just as I’ve got the bread prepped and rising, and I’m ready to go upstairs for a shower, my phone beeps.

Jack: Mind if I come now? I caught an earlier ferry.

I look at the clock. It’s only 5:00.

Me: Sure. I’ve got the pesto made already.

Jack: Sounds delicious, but I have to take a rain check. The people I’m meeting with later tonight have asked me to dinner at 6:30.

I stare at my phone, shocked. The tsunami roars in my mind. He’s having dinner with someone else? In this area? And I’m not invited? I’m pretty sure I’m not being paranoid now. For the past several months he’s always invited me along on anything he’s doing locally. What I want to do is pick up the phone and ask questions. Instead, I text back that if I’m not home, I’ll be right back. I have definitely made myself too available. I’m not up for asking Rune to help me make Jack jealous, but I don’t have to be sitting here when he arrives.

Crap. Crap. Crap . He’ll be here in about half an hour, maybe less, on the ferry from Edmonds to Kingston. I don’t feel like racing upstairs and primping now. I feel like going for a good long walk in the forest, but there’s no time.

I text Rune. I know they’re home now because he sent me a thank you from them both about the bed while I was making the bread. He also let me know that Lorelei wants me to come over soon to check out her model horse collection.

Me: Any interest in some homemade pesto? I’ve got lots extra.

My phone beeps a few minutes later when I’m upstairs washing my face and checking my clothes for kitchen drips.

Rune: Please! Lorelei says it’s the best. Want me to send her over?

Me: No. I have time before my friend comes over, so I want to come and see the horses.

Rune: smiley face