Chelsea scrambled out of her car, pulling off her beanie. It had been well over a year since she’d seen Amber, but it felt like a lifetime. She wasn’t sure she was recognizable as the person Amber knew, the failed debutante turned artist, but her bright red hair was freshly dyed.
The change from the woods to the concrete jungle of New York City put Chelsea’s teeth on edge. And somehow, the single room at Andy’s haunt felt like a cage, despite being only slightly smaller than her cabin. There definitely wasn’t room for even one easel, no matter what Andy had insisted.