Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
GRACE
I t’s a good thing I’m not taking the Rawlinses’ hard-earned money anymore. Because my caring for Mackinlay is as dodgy as it gets. Heavens above, it seems every time he has an episode, it revolves around something I do. At this point, I think time to himself at the ranch is the last remaining piece of the puzzle to let him heal. He doesn’t need me holding his hand. Not anymore.
Not sure if he ever did . . .
I’m sitting in Blue, parked by the curb in front of the Lewistown Arts Center. Day one of my new job. Currently, I’m trying desperately not to be swallowed whole by the swarm of whatever invaded my stomach. My hands tremble a little. I keep thinking any minute now Don is going to figure out he made a mistake. That I’m a fraud. No talent. No experience in the art department.
Sweet Jesus.
Huh. The phrase pulls a smile over my lips.
Thank you, Mack.
I am happy to have a new direction. This direction. It’s a huge step in the right direction for me. Career-wise and independence-wise. Don pulls in driving an old Mercedes that’s from before Jesus and I push out the driver’s side door of Blue and grab my purse. I shove her key into the door and lock it, turning back to find Don holding two coffees in a tray with a huge smile on his face.
He’s definitely a morning person.
“Morning,” I say, shouldering my bag as he lifts a paper cup from the tray and hands it to me. “Oh, you didn’t have to...”
“The way we start our day is everything. I figure that goes for first days as well. So, here’s to a good start.” He tips his cup in cheers toward mine. I reciprocate, pleasantly surprised. I mean, living and working with Mack and his family has almost rewired my brain to expect the best in people. This is above and beyond for a first day, boss-employee moment, I’m sure.
“Right, let’s get this day rollin’.” Don takes a sip before unlocking the double glass doors that mark the front entrance of the Arts Center. I take a tentative sip myself. It’s hot but not burning, and I take another. Cappuccino. Lovely.
He holds the door for me before punching the security code into the panel by the doors. I steal a moment to let it all soak in.
I work here.
I really work in a place surrounded by art.
With people who are as inspired and as obsessed with the industry as I am. Was, I guess. It’s been a minute. I’m so damn thrilled to be back amongst it.
“Alright. So, I will give you a more in-depth tour than last time,” Don says, waving me in further. “We’ll cover the amenities and schedule first. Then, you can wander and explore for a bit while I man the front. But at ten I have meetings, so you’ll be on reception and sales. Judy, our last teacher, used to use the computer at the desk to do up her lesson plans for classes.”
“Of course. Point me to where you need me. I’m keen to dive into the content. Do you offer all mediums?”
“Mostly. Pottery is out, though. No budget for a kiln. Most artistic processes we can handle. We try to fill most of the classes with skills that are attainable to folks in a few lessons, or thereabouts. Watercolors, oils, collage with mixed medium, etc. You’ll find the old lesson content on the computer. Aim for something similar, and you shouldn’t go wrong.”
“I can do that. And differing skill levels for the kids and adult sessions, I assume. Is there anything that you don’t offer the kids?”
“Ah, glitter. The last time we supplied that, we were still cleaning it from obscure places months later. Also, bit of hazard with some of the younger kids, they put everything in their mouths.” He chuckles.
I can well imagine.
After a tour of the amenities, he shows me how to log in to the computer, sets my login details up, and hands me a folder of the previous lessons and schedules. A list of resources is also laminated in the last clear slip pocket. Old school. But easy to use.
“Thank you, Don, this looks wonderful.”
I slide onto the tall swivel stool at the front reception desk as he excuses himself for his meeting. I meander through the computer, looking through vendors, suppliers, the contact database for local and regional artists, before I come to the lesson template.
“Bingo.”
I open the master and save a fresh one under a new name. Fingers hovering over the keyboard, I imagine all the wonderful projects I could set up for the classes. With three adult classes and two kid-focused sessions a week, there is so much potential.
I decide on my favorite to start out.
Oils.
Classes start in January after the holiday break. So, I have six weeks to organize my lesson plans, order supplies, make up the flyers, etc. Excitement bubbles up. It’s been a long time since I’ve had something to dive into with my whole mind and heart. Something that’s mine to bring to fruition.
The doorbell chimes. I look up from the screen.
“Happy first day!” the newcomers chime in chorus. Grins all around. Three of the happiest faces beaming at me. Louisa, Ruby, and Addy walk to the counter.
“Hi! What are you all doing here?” I slide off the stool and round the counter.
Louisa has me in her arms a second later. “We are so stinkin’ proud of you, sweetheart.”
I blush at her words.
Ruby wanders down one side of the gallery. “Wow, these are lovely.”
“How are you feelin’, Grace?” Addy says, her coat hiding her scrubs. She must have taken a break from her rounds to join the surprise visit.
“Great. Excited. A little nervous.”
“You will do great. Plus, maybe you could sell some of your artwork here when you have a chance to wear that easel in.”
Now heat flushes my face. I haven’t even had a chance to paint a thing since my birthday party. I have been otherwise occupied with Mack. Not that I would trade that time for anything else. Not even painting. But her words have me contemplating.
“I would lov?—”
“Nope!” Ruby raises a hand and walks to where we stand. “Grace, before you hang anything here, I have a proposition for you. Can you squeeze in a visit to R & R after work?”
“Sure. What do you need?” She could tell me now.
She taps her lips with a finger. “Later, babe.”
“Okay,” I say with a smile.
Ruby walks over to where Louisa is eyeing a hand-woven basket, and Addy leans in. “Wonder what that’s all about?”
“Guess I will find out this afternoon?”
“Knowing our Rubes, it’s something awesome.”
Those two are like sisters. I envy them. They are so close. For a tiny moment, I wonder if I will ever be considered a sister to them. If things go the way I want them to, at least. And like it has been all morning before Don filled my head with dreams, Mack fills my mind. It’s odd not seeing him all day. He will be doing his first workout around this time.
Ranch work after lunch. He’s still easing into it. But I know he’s itching to get back to everything he did before.
“Grace, you’ll be just what this town needs,” Louisa says, walking toward me with the basket.
“I hope so.”
“No hoping, Gracie. You’re gonna smash this.” Ruby steps in beside Louisa, a small handblown glass vase in one hand, a red crocheted scarf hanging from the other. Addy appears at her side with a book on flower arranging.
“You don’t have to buy things because I’m here,” I say softly.
Addy tilts her head and glances at her best friend and mother-in-law. “I’ve been meaning to come in here for ages. I want to set those wildflowers right. So, yes, I do.”
“Same goes for us,” Louisa says, nudging Ruby with her shoulder.
I ring the items up for each of them and place them in brown paper bags before handing them over.
“See you later, Grace,” Ruby calls as they head through the doors.
“See you then.” I wave and watch as they walk down the sidewalk, chatting, laughing. They disappear from view, and I sink back onto the stool and start my work rewriting the lessons.
First up, oils.
An hour later, Don finds me, head down and tail up, rearranging the handmade goods on the front stand.
“Grace, would you be okay with a small write up in the local rag?”
“Oh, sure, anything to help raise interest in the classes.”
“Great, Billy from the paper will be around in ten. An article will go up tomorrow. Online and in the weekend gazette. You okay if we use your name, etc.? Locals like to know the folks who front places like ours.”
“Of course. Consider me part of the town.”
“Wonderful.”
Billy floats through the entrance doors not even five minutes later. I pose for a photo by the wall of art that caught my attention on my first visit here. Don and I smile and a flash snaps, our picture immortalized, ready for print.
“This is going to be something good. I can feel it,” Don says before walking Billy to the door, thanking him for making the effort.
Now it feels like the next chapter of my life.
Pride swells alongside the excitement I’ve been carrying for the entire day.
R & R Ranch will never cease to impress me. I drive under the overarching sign inscribed with Reed’s & Ruby’s names. The mountains around me remind me how magnificent this land is. How small we are in comparison to Mother Nature out here. It’s humbling. Grounding. Fulfilling, just taking it in.
Nothing could take this day down.
I pull in by the house and kill Blue’s engine. Reed and Ruby are on the front porch swing. Reed’s arm is wrapped around Ruby’s shoulders and his head is buried in her hair. A low rumble comes from his chest as I walk toward the house. Ruby’s laughter as she throws her head back echoes through the trees. Heavens above, these two are something else.
“You two look cozy.” I step up onto the front porch.
“Hey, Gracie. How’s that brother of mine?” Reed asks, his green eyes shining with love and happiness.
“Mack is good. Ready for ranch work like yesterday.”
“I know. I don’t want him to overdo it too early, you know.”
“Yeah, I know. But he’s working his butt off to get back what he had.”
“I have no doubt.” He stands, dotting a kiss to Ruby’s forehead as he does. “You two girls have fun. I have horses to feed up.”
He slips his hat on and tips it to us as he walks out the yard, heading for the stables. Ruby’s gaze doesn’t leave him until he’s out of sight. Oh my gosh, my heart.
“Right!” she says, startling me. She chuckles. “Follow me, Miss Gracie.”
“Sure.”
Moments later, we are pushing through the front door of the first cabin. The red door and crisp white paint are such a wonderful contrast. I love everything about this place. Ruby stops and stands in the middle of the front room. “You notice something missing in this tiny house?” She waves her hands about.
I scan the space, trying to catch her drift. “Um, sorry, I’m not great at interior design.”
She steps to where I stand and rests a hand on my shoulder. “Imagine this,” she says, her other hand moving through the air like she’s waving at a billboard. “Original artwork, by local painter, of the very mountains that people spend evenings staring at mesmerized in this very cabin, on that very front deck.”
“They would pop against the white. I could send you the contact list from the gallery for local artists to paint them.”
She drops her hand from my shoulder and shakes her head. “No, Grace. We want you to paint them. You’re our artist, babes.”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes. “I, ah?—”
“Before you decide already and turn me down. I’m sure, after a little research I did, you can sell a medium-size original for a nice sum. Also, we don’t require commission.”
“Ruby, I couldn’t . . .”
“Don’t make me bring out the Harry, Grace.”
“The what?”
“I ain’t askin’, darlin’.” Ruby raises an eyebrow, pulling a ridiculous face.
I laugh at her. “Fine, I’ll do something up for you to take a look at.”
“The Harry always works.” She beams at me. “Now, let’s grab some wine.”
Not too keen on the wine but ready for another turn in my favor, I follow. We head to the house and into the kitchen where she pours a glass of white for me then red for herself. Footsteps trudge up the steps outside, and she grabs out a tumbler and drops a nip of whiskey into it.
“Stayin’ for a little while?” Reed asks, pushing through the door, plucking the hat from his head and toeing off his boots.
“Sure, how’s the horses?” I ask.
“Fed and happy. How’s the first day?”
“Amazing.” I smile at him.
He takes his whiskey from Ruby with a peck to her cheek. The affection between them is constant. Swoonworthy, even. It makes me miss Mack with a sudden fierceness. I swallow down the wine and hand Ruby the glass. “Actually, I should head home and start supper.”
“You sure? Mack can wait a beat.” Reed grins.
“He could. But I’m wiped. Today’s been huge.”
“Oh sure, no problem.” Ruby walks with me to the porch.
“Later, Gracie,” Reed calls out from inside.
“Yup, see you later.”
“Thanks for coming over, and take your time with the painting. No rush. I have been told art takes as long as it takes.”
“Reed?”
“Who else? My plans sometimes lack the finer detail of realistic timelines. Especially when I’m so enthusiastic for them.”
“Can relate. I will do my best to have something ready in a few weeks.”
“Yay!” She folds me into a hug. It’s warm and tight and genuine.
“Thank you, Ruby.”
She releases me. “Of course! This is only the beginning, Grace.”
“I sure hope so.”
She waves me off as I slip into Blue and fire her up. My bag is buzzing. Crap, I forgot to tell Mackinlay I was going here on the way home. He’s probably freaking out. I hunt through my bag until my fingers brush over the smooth, flat surface of my phone. I snatch it out.
And freeze.
Not Mack.
Not anyone I want to exchange words with.
But call it habit, or the part of myself that refuses to accept any sort of self-worth. I slide to answer.
“Hello?”
Static is the only reply.
A breath.
“Say something,” I say quietly.
The line drops out.
I huff and drop my forehead on the steering wheel. Fear snakes up my spine like it hasn’t done since Mississippi. Tears burn my eyes, but I sniff them back. I’m not that girl anymore.
Not ever again.
Tossing the phone onto the passenger’s seat, I slide Blue into gear. She rattles down the driveway.
Don’t give him airtime, Grace.
Not a single second.
Don’t you dare.