Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78894 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78894 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
“She saw your painting, and she won’t stop staring at it. The one you were gonna pack last night.”
“Sit down and start eating, buddy. I’ll be right back.”
Charlie did as I asked. Once I saw that he was eating, I headed into the living room.
Sure enough, Palmer was standing there with the oddest expression on her face as she stared at the painting I’d propped up against one of the walls. I’d meant to pack it last night but hadn’t gotten around to it.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
She turned and looked at me but didn’t say a word. I couldn’t read the expression on her face, but it almost looked as if she was in shock.
“I was told a local artist painted it. Whoever they are, they’re incredibly talented. Look at how the colors blend so beautifully right here.” I pointed to the sky with the oranges, reds, and yellows. “I love sunsets and sunrises, so as soon as I saw this, I knew I had to have it. I don’t know how to explain it—it spoke to me. It’s the perfect reflection of Seaside, and the reason I moved here. And the storm moving in makes it even more accurate.”
When Palmer didn’t say anything, I turned to look at her. My heart stopped for a second time that morning when I saw she was crying.
I took her by the upper arms and gently turned her to look at me. “Hey, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
She sniffled, and I looked around for some Kleenex. Pulling two out of the box on the coffee table, I handed them to her.
She took them and tried to smile at me.
“Are you okay, Palmer?”
After a few moments, she nodded and then cleared her throat. “I can’t believe you were the one who bought it.”
Shit. Palmer must have been one of the other people who’d wanted to buy the painting. “Were you interested in it? I know there were a lot of people looking at it. Even while I was standing there, I heard a few people express interest.”
Her eyes widened as she looked up at me.
“I wasn’t about to walk around and risk it selling while I finished checking out the other exhibits, so I bought it on the spot.”
I watched as she wiped a tear away. That single tear nearly brought me to my knees.
“Palmer, why are you crying? Did you have your hopes set on it that much?”
She shook her head.
Reaching for her hand, I gave it a slight squeeze. She drew in a deep breath and exhaled before her eyes met mine.
“I painted the picture. I’m the artist, Mason.”
I looked at the painting, then back to Palmer. Pointing at it, I asked, “You painted this?”
Before she could answer, Charlie called out, “Dad! Your breakfast is getting cold!”
I couldn’t help but laugh. I was getting a taste of my own medicine from my five-year-old son. Palmer giggled as she attempted to get her emotions in check.
“We are certainly not finished with this new revelation,” I said, giving Palmer a pointed look.
All she did was nod before she headed back into the kitchen.
Charlie and I finished eating breakfast while Palmer insisted on cleaning up. I was pretty sure she needed something to do to keep her mind off the fact that I’d been the one to purchase her artwork.
“Ready?” I asked as Palmer gave me a nervous smile. I wasn’t sure if she was worried about the drop-off or the fact that I owned her painting. I had to admit, it was crazy how drawn I was to that piece. And knowing it was Palmer who’d painted it?
I couldn’t let me mind go there right then.
“Ready. You’re sure you don’t mind dropping me back off for my car?” she asked as we walked into the garage. It was filled with empty moving boxes, so I could start packing the few possessions I had in the rental house.
Charlie made a beeline for the backseat of my Bronco Sport as he struggled to put his coat on. Palmer slipped into the front passenger seat and started to rub her hands together.
“Let me get this started and heated up,” I said as I pushed the button to start the car.
Nothing.
Palmer and I exchanged a look.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
With a frown, I said, “It’s not turning over. The battery must be dead.”
“Already?” she stated with a disbelieving laugh. “How long ago did you buy it? It looks new.”
“Six months ago,” I answered, popping the hood of the car. Grabbing my battery tester, I hooked it up. Yep. It was dead.
“What in the living hell?” I asked out loud.
Palmer got out of the car. “Let me drive Charlie to school and you to work. I can come back and take out the battery and replace it with a new one.”