Page 77 of One Kind Soul

So if Nicole thought like Lynda, she could anticipate her sister’s next move. Grabbing the box she’d filled, Nicole set it at the top of the loft stairs with the others she’d stacked there. Maybe as she took the boxes over to the farmhouse, she’d think of something to bring Lynda out into the open.

She spent the next fifteen minutes loading the rest of what Christian wanted in the farmhouse into the remaining boxes. He planned to leave the furniture and few basic necessities in the barn because during the busy harvest season, sometimes Ben and Jared bunked in the barn loft.

Nicole thought about packing up her things at the beach house. Truth be told, she didn’t have a ton of things she wanted to take with her. She and Tessa had always rented the place, so the furniture wasn’t either of theirs and she didn’t have to worry about taking any of that. Tessa’s room had been cleared out so that only left the few things Nicole owned, most of which was clothes. Luckily, the farmhouse had plenty of closet space.

Deeming the loft as cleaned out as it was going to get, Nicole picked up her light sweater. She poked one arm into it then peeled it back off. It was another beautiful June day outside and the temperature didn’t warrant an extra layer. Typically—even on Kauai—Nicole liked having something to fold around herself. It was a habit she’d developed early on. A technique to hide her body—the one Lynda had critiqued incessantly. Wearing something to cover up had served two purposes. First, it kept her flaws hidden so Lynda couldn’t gain more ammunition and second, it allowed Nicole to have a turtle shell to escape into, a barrier between her and the world.

She didn’t need that now. Not here. Not now that someone wonderful had made her see she wasn’t this dreadful mutant specimen.

Nicole balled up the sweater and plunked it into the nearest box.

No more hiding.

She picked up one of the boxes and started down the narrow stairs, careful not to step on any pack cats milling about. On her way to the farmhouse, she took note of the pockets of customers scattered here and there. She didn’t know which ones were police officers today because she hadn’t been outside yet, but after a few trips between the barn and the farmhouse, she was certain she’d be able to identify them.

Which meant if Lynda was watching somehow, she knew how to identify them too.

Ugh. Nicole hated having to think like this.

She traveled between the barn and farmhouse multiple times, toting boxes and emptying them. She made some executive decisions about where to put some stuff. If Christian disagreed, he could change how she’d organized things.

When she got down to the last box and had emptied it, she took a step back to admire the work Christian had done on the house. He certainly had an eye for the details. The door trim had these intricately carved corner pieces that looked old fashioned. That kitchen brick-like backsplash tile and copper sink screamed rustic charm. The wide-planked floor boards had tons of character and Christian had chosen a stain that highlighted all those details.

If he had such specific tastes in home décor, did that mean his taste in women was as particular? If so, Nicole felt pretty honored to have been chosen as the one he wanted. His sharp, discerning eyes saw something in her and that made her feel special.

She spent a few more moments tidying then headed outside to see if Rada needed any help in the store. Before she reached it, a woman came out of the store, an oversized sweater draped over her thin form and a small bag in her hand. The way the woman held the two sides of the sweater shut instantly reminded Nicole of herself and she had this burning need to help the chick. Everyone deserved to discover their worth.

Nicole headed toward the woman, but the woman tripped and the bag she held flew out of her hands as she fell.

“Are you okay?” Nicole yelled as she ran to the woman’s side. “That was a nasty spill.”

The woman slowly got into a sitting position and grabbed the sides of her sweater again, pulling them tightly around her, like a shield. Had she been a victim of verbal or physical abuse? Because Nicole was certain it was one . . . or both.

“I-I’m fine,” she stammered in a soft voice. “I didn’t see that rock there.”

Nicole followed the woman’s hand as she pointed to a good sized stone on the ground nearby.

“Guess I need to pay better attention to where I’m going.” She made a move to get to her feet.

“Take your time.” Nicole offered a hand which the woman didn’t take.

I wouldn’t have taken it either. Before.

“I’m Nicole.”

The woman stood, huddling into her sweater. “Shelly.” She didn’t make eye contact then she bent to pick up her bag.

“Hope you didn’t buy anything breakable,” Nicole said. “If so, we can get you another one.”

Shelly peeked into the bag. “It’s fine. It’s a muffin. They sell the best muffins here.”

“Rada—the woman who runs the store—definitely knows what she’s doing on the muffin front. What kind did you get?”

“Apple cinnamon.” Shelly’s lips turned up a slight fraction of an inch.

“Excellent choice though the blueberry coconut are a close second.” Rada had given her and Christian a whole batch of those the other day, telling them she wanted their honest opinion on whether or not she should add them to the store’s offerings. Nicole and Christian had been strong supporters of the blueberry coconut muffin.

“I’ll have to try that one next time,” Shelly said.