Finding Home #SYTYCW15 #SpecialEdition

Finding Home Part 7

Chapter Six

Andie slipped one foot out of her high-heeled sandals and rubbed at the ache in her arch. The air might have been slightly chilly, but the September sun was still hot enough that, despite rubbing on multiple coats of sunscreen, the sting of a burn had spread across her skin. But underneath the folding table she sat at was a metal lock box full of money, money that would go a long way toward saving her building, her shop, her dream.

"Thanks," Conner said, to a young mom as he handed her a huge, assorted box of cookies. "You're going to make your little guys very happy."

The mom rolled her eyes as her oldest boy tugged at her sleeve for attention, while the toddler in the stroller wailed like a police siren. "That's the plan. Or hope, I should say."

Conner grabbed an ice cold bottle of water from the cooler under one of the other tables that was now sparsely populated with baked goods and leaned over to hand it to the toddler. "Here you go, buddy. You look thirsty."

The mom unscrewed the cap and handed the bottle back to little boy, who immediately quieted. "Thanks again," she said, and slowly made her way down the paved trail that wound along the lake's edge in front of them.

Andie had been lucky enough to score a spot in the middle of the Art in the Park event. They had set up between a woman making beautiful sterling silver jewelry and a man who had the most gorgeous, framed nature photos Andie had ever seen, and they couldn't have been luckier. The constant foot traffic to those two popular booths meant they had a huge amount as well, and they'd sold almost all of their treats. She supposed it didn't hurt that they had the world's cutest puppy with them either. She smiled as yet another kid raced over to pet the dog and her mom, who dutifully followed, decided to buy a cake for an after dinner treat.

Andie looked up when someone called her name. Shawn and Logan were winding their way up the lake walk toward them. Logan's face was only a raw, red looking area now. It would probably be sore for awhile, but there was no lasting damage. Andie wasn't sure she could say the same for his heart. An anger had settled on him the day of the altercation, and no matter what Andie or Shawn did, they couldn't seem to get Logan to shake it.

It worried Andie even more because she felt the exact same way. How could she tell Logan to forget it when she was stuck in the exact same place?

But Andie refused to think about Kayla Anderson on such a perfect day, refused to let the memories of the past swamp her and spoil it. The deep blue of a fall sky stretched overhead and the cool air flowed over her skin like a hug. Her family was safe and well and together right now. That was the most important thing to remember, especially when Diana's illness had reminded them all too well how fragile life could be. Not that they weren't going to make every attempt to fight it; she had a mastectomy scheduled within a week and aggressive chemotherapy planned after that. Andie had been calling Diana twice every day to check up on her, until Diana had told her to knock it off and give her a little room.

She slapped a smile on her face. "Hey, guys!" Andie jumped out from behind the table and squeezed Shawn in a gigantic hug before doing the same to Logan.

Shawn grinned down at her, tousling her curls into a mess. "What's that for, sis?"

Andie tried to run her fingers through her hair, push it back into some semblance of order, but when her hand became hopelessly tangled, she gave it up for a lost cause. "I'm glad to see you."

"Well, you're gonna be even happier in a minute." Logan flashed a gigantic grin, then slung his backpack off his shoulder and rooted around in it for a minute. "Ta da!" He held up her most comfy pair of sneakers. Right before she'd left this morning, Shawn had tried to talk her into wearing them instead of her cute, strappy pink heels, but Andie had been adamant. Soon enough she'd have to encase her feet in heavy winter boots, and even then they wouldn't be warm. From mid-October to May, she'd have constant Reynaud's attacks, turning her fingers and toes to a waxy white, each nail a dull purple. If she wasn't carful, she'd end up with tissue damage, especially on her toes. She wanted to enjoy her summer shoe collection, and the warm sun on her feet, for a little bit longer.