“Wow, you really like him.” Hallie interrupts my rant, and her words aren’t sarcastic. They’re serious, which is infinitely worse. I scoff. “Maybe you should tell him he has a reason to change the photo on his dartboard,” she suggests. I scoff again. “It would be a shame to mar a photo of the face that broke every heart in the county,” she continues teasingly.

I don’t reply; I just keep watching houses pass by.

Those boys were fools to think I was after anything more than a fondling under the bleachers.

I refuse to make the same mistake when it comes to Adler Beck.

* * *

I’m expecting Hallie to pull up in front of the bungalow she and Matt bought when they got married. Instead, she stops and parks in front of a long, industrial-looking building on the fringes of town.

“Where are we?”

“They opened this farmer’s market last year,” Hallie tells me as she shuts off the car and opens the driver’s side door. “If you came home more frequently, you’d know that.”

I ignore the dig as I climb out of the vehicle. “What are we doing here?”

“I need some stuff for dinner. You can browse the booths. They’ve got crafty stuff too.”

“Crafty stuff?”

“Yeah, knitwear, embroidery, artwork. Stuff like that.”

“My favorite,” I deadpan as we walk inside.

I trail after Hallie, glancing around the booths as we pass them by. Suddenly, I stop. A framed watercolor print is displayed among a series of similar paintings, displaying a puddle amidst a stretch of grass.

An elderly woman appears at my side. “Can I help you find anything, dear?”

“Yes, I’ll take this one,” I reply impulsively, pointing to the painting. Not only does it remind me of my favorite piece in Kluvberg’s art museum, but it’s also eerily similar to the night in Canada I keep thinking about.

“Anything you’d like me to add for you?”

“What?” I reply.

The woman points to a sign hanging to the left of her paintings that reads “Customizations available upon request.”

“I always like to give people the option. I paint places that are special to me, but you’re the one who’ll be looking at it. If there’s something I can add, I like to do so. Had a couple in here a few days ago who had me paint their dog on the front porch.”

“Can you add a soccer goal to the reflection? Here.” I point in the painting. “And can you add a couple numbers as well? Blended in, so you really have to look for them?”

“Sure, sugar. What are the numbers?”

“22 and 23,” I respond, handing her my credit card.

She rings me up then tells me it will be ready at noon tomorrow. I thank her and rush out of the booth to catch up with Hallie.

“What happened to you?” she asks.