Among the Heather (The Highlands, #2)

“Okay,” I repeated.

“And the account kind of blew up.” Her eyes widened. “Like, I’ve been selling my stuff online and making an absolute mint.”

Surprise rocked me, along with pride and relief. “But … that’s amazing! Let me see.”

My little sister seemed to deflate, her sweet smile slow but growing bigger by the second. Finally, she shoved her phone at me. I took it and scrolled through the feed of her alias, Lucy Stella.

“The name is a take on Italian for starlight,” she explained.

Luce stellare.

And I understood why when I saw her work. “Is this glass?”

“Yeah, and mixed media.”

Awe filled me as I looked at piece after piece of the most exquisite glass art. She’d used paint, metallic foils, glitter, and precious stones on glass to create abstract pieces that shimmered and glimmered like pieces of the universe. “I want one,” I said immediately. “I’ve been looking for a piece for the living room.” Gesturing to a blank space near the entrance to the sitting room, I continued, “A framed piece of glass would look perfect there.”

“Really?” Allegra bit her lip even as she grinned. “You like them?”

“Ally, how can you even ask?” I waved the phone at her. “This is extraordinary.”

“Galleries in San Francisco and Seattle approached me.”

More pride swelled. “I’m not even surprised.”

“My larger pieces have sold for five grand.”

My jaw dropped. “Are you kidding me?”

Allegra shook her head. “I’m making real money from my art, Ari. That’s why I’m here. I … you know your opinion means more to me than Mamma’s or Daddy’s. The whole point of art school was to learn how to do this—make a living from my art. And I’m already doing it. I want to quit school and concentrate on my art.”

Anxiety suddenly crushed my swelling pride. “Oh. Oh, Ally …” I handed back her phone. “Look, sweetie, it’s amazing that you’re doing so well and I’m so proud and in awe of you. Really.”

Her expression fell as her eyes lowered. “But you don’t think I can do this.”

“No, not that.” I gripped her free hand in mine and ducked my head so she’d have to meet my gaze. “Sweetie, art, in all its forms, can have a brief shelf life. Nothing goes through trends more than art.”

“So you’re saying people might not want my stuff in another six months?”

“No. I’m … ugh, obviously I’m saying this all wrong. I just … this beautiful glasswork could stay popular for a few months or years. No one knows, and that’s my point. Art will be a career of ups and downs. Most people don’t have careers like Dad. Look at Mom. She could only book particular kinds of jobs once she hit a certain age. Do you see what I’m saying?”

“Yeah.” Allegra looked annoyed. “You’re telling me something I already know. But whether I finish college, I’m going to be an artist, so I already know I’m looking at a career filled with peaks and valleys. What’s the difference?”

“The difference is, if you graduate from a college like Otis, you could apply for more stable positions within the art world if you need to.”

My sister looked at me as if I was naive. “What stable positions? Ari, I don’t intend to do anything but be an artist.”

I knew that.

And a part of me understood what she was saying. But the risk-averse side of me wanted my kid sister to finish college. Seeing me waver, Allegra pushed, “I want to travel and be inspired. Being here only a day has my mind whirring with ideas. I saw all this beautiful purple heather on the drive over, and I’m desperate to go out and pick some and incorporate it into the glass.”

“Right, but—”

“And I hate LA.”

I shut my mouth.

“Everyone at school seems so young. Like, they think they’re worldly, but I listen to them drone on about things they don’t even understand and they’re so privileged and immature. All they care about is how strangers view them. We go out to eat and I can’t even dig into my burger because they’re all snapping photos of the food for five fucking minutes. We go out for a drive and a picnic on the beach, and no one’s experiencing it because they’re too busy setting up the perfect shots for their social media. It makes me want to scream. And I know that sounds crazy coming from me because I know who we are. I know I’m privileged. But I don’t feel young, Ari. I feel old. And tired. And lonely. And I don’t want to feel like that. Getting on the plane to come here is the most excited I’ve felt in months.”

Well … shit.

What could I say to that? I hated LA, too, for many of the same reasons.

“Okay. You can stay for a week or two until we figure this out.”

Joy flooded her face. “Really?”

“Yes. But no promises,” I warned her. “Mamma and Dad need to know about this, and I don’t know what they’ll say.”

Allegra threw her arms around me, hugging so tight she almost choked me. “Thank you for always being there for me. And for being my Valentine this year.”

I smoothed a reassuring hand down her back, already dreading the conversation we needed to have with our parents. I didn’t let her see that, though. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Ally. No one I’d rather spend this miserable holiday with.”

She chuckled and tightened her embrace. “Me neither.”





Five


NORTH





“I’m like this discarded bottle of whisky,” I sang under my breath as I strummed my guitar, “worthless now that it’s empty. And you can’t get drunk on this guy everyone thought they knew …” My last strum echoed through the room as I stared at the notepad in front of me. Humming the music I’d just written, I grabbed the pen off the bed and scribbled “Instead you should run for your life before they empty you too.”

I replayed the verse I’d just written, the sound heavily inspired by the country music my parents had loved. We’d only had seven years together, but I remembered things from the early parts of my childhood I imagined other people didn’t.

Over an hour in, my neck was tight from the way I’d been sitting, so I rested my Taylor on the bed and rubbed at the spot. Early winter light poured in through the room. I’d tried to keep my playing low, even though I knew for a fact I didn’t have a neighbor on either side of me. The club was quiet. Even Theo left yesterday, off to guest direct a few episodes of a popular new streaming show. Despite being an arsehole sometimes, I was friends with Cavendish because, underneath his droll wit, he gave a shit about the people he allowed into his inner circle. He’d never admit it, of course. Having someone around who didn’t judge or throw me pitying looks helped bring me out of the pit of depression.

Now that he was gone, I was relying on music to do that.