All of that tumbles out of her in a rush while my brother’s gaze is pinned to me.
I shoot him a smile. “All’s well that ends well. She got the key back.”
“A pretty singer named Astrid Rehn?” He narrows his eyes. “How did she end up with the key?”
“Daddy put change in her guitar case for singing a song, and my diary key was in his pocket,” Stevie explains. “Then he went to find her, and she had it. She had the key.”
Keats glances at me. “Does any of this relate to the fact that you’re suddenly interested in records?”
Damn Gaines and his big mouth.
I shrug. “Dutch loved records.”
“Does Astrid Rehn?” he asks while Stevie keeps her eyes trained on the necklace in her hand.
“Weren’t you two about to head up to my room for a shoeshine?” I smile at my brother. “Go get that done before your wife arrives.”
“Auntie Sinclair and Gaines are coming to the dinner party too.” Stevie bounces in place. “I can’t wait.”
“I can’t wait either,” Keats says before he leans closer to me. “To hear more about the pretty singer.”
“Go.” I point toward the staircase. “I need you back down here in twenty minutes to help finish cooking dinner.”
Keats pats my shoulder. “I’ll make it back with time to spare. This good mood thing you’ve got going on is stellar. Stick with it.”
“I’m having dinner with my family,” I say. “Life is good.”
It’s about to be better. After dinner is over and everyone has taken their leave, I’ll tuck my daughter into bed.
Then, I’ll have some time to listen to some of Dutch’s old records. As soon as I can, I plan on going back to Vinyl Crush to add even more of Astrid’s favorites to my grandfather’s collection.
Chapter Eighteen
Astrid
“I can’t sell that one.” Eloise levels a finger in the air in my direction. “It looks too good on you, Astrid.”
I won’t argue with her.
The light green sweater I’m wearing fits me like a glove. It also happens to be the same shade as my eyes.
It looks amazing with the ripped, dark wash jeans and brown boots I’m wearing.
Eloise and I are wrapping up an impromptu photo shoot.
Vinyl Crush closed a little less than an hour ago.
Eloise showed up at my apartment with a cheeseburger and fries that we shared.
Now, we’re in the store using the record stands as a backdrop for the photos my cousin is snapping of her latest creations.
The first sweater was gray with a white stripe running around the shoulders. After Eloise took a bunch of pictures of me in that, I ducked into a corner and changed into the second one. It was a cropped light blue cardigan with a rainbow pattern knitted on the back of it.
This light green one is by far my absolute favorite.
“I’ll buy it from you,” I offer.
Letting out a soft chuckle, Eloise shakes her head. “Nope.”
“I want to,” I insist. “Your sweaters usually run around one fifty, right?”
She nods. “I’m not taking one hundred and fifty of your dollars for that sweater, Astrid.”
“Two hundred then.” I smile.
She laughs. “No. Zero dollars and zero cents.”
“Please.” I lower my voice. “I want to pay for it, Eloise.”
I see her resistance melting away as she stares at me. “You’re not paying my usual price. I can’t take that much money from you.”
She can, and I wish she would.
I’ve offered to help Eloise since my mom died and left me some money, but she refuses it. I know it would benefit her greatly if she could live alone since she’s always complaining about her roommates, but Eloise is determined to stick it out until after she graduates.
“How about one twenty five?”
She laughs. “No, Astrid. You can pay me for the cost of the yarn.”
I join in with laughter too. “That doesn’t work for me. Let’s split the difference and go with one hundred dollars.”
She nods. “I can live with that.”
I can too. I feel good knowing that I’m putting something in her hand for all the hard work she put into knitting the sweater.
“Now that we’ve settled that, let’s talk about Hot Dad.”
“Let’s not,” I snap.
I’ve been slightly disappointed that I haven’t seen Berk in almost a week.
I don’t expect him to make daily trips to Vinyl Crush, but with each day that passes, I’m left wondering if once he was completely sober, he realized that I tried to make a move on him, and he’s decided our blossoming friendship needs to end.
“You been busking the last few mornings,” she points out. “Are you telling me he didn’t stop in to be serenaded by the woman who is dying to kiss him?”
I jerk my thumb toward my chest. “Are you referring to me?”
Nodding, she smiles. “You and only you, dear cousin.”
I drop both hands to my hips. “I’ll have you know that I’m not dying to kiss anyone. I got caught up in the moment and leaned in to test the waters.”