Chapter 42
“What if I gave you the money?”
We are getting into Reeve’s car on our way to Lou’s for breakfast and having the same argument we’ve had all week.
“Tuition is thirty thousand a year; add in meager living expenses and I’m looking at two hundred thousand at least. Don’t tell me you have two hundred thousand sitting around.” I’ve gone from politely declining to being just plain blunt.
“Well, it’s not sitting around,” he counters. “But I could sell—”
“No.”
“Jules—”
“This isn’t up for negotiation.” I close the passenger door and fasten my seatbelt, watching Reeve as he pulls a U-turn and heads toward Lou’s.
“It would be a loan.” Reeve tries a new approach, the same one he tried yesterday.
“No.”
“It’s for your future,” he argues. “It’s for our future.”
Now, that is a new tactic. It makes my breath catch in a way that makes me unable to respond immediately, which Reeve uses to his advantage.
“I love you, Jules. I know how important this is to you. I want to do anything in my power to help.”
“I know you do.” My voice softens. “But I can’t take your money.” I consider the best way to phrase the metaphorical elephant that has always existed between us, knowing that what I am about to say is going to make things awkward but also that it needs to happen if we are going to be together.
“You know I didn’t have a whole lot growing up.
” I start with the basics. “When I was a kid trying to figure out where to go to university, I didn’t argue with my mom about which program I should take.
I argued with the bank about a student loan and justified it by doing an online degree to stay home and save on living expenses.
Even now, my financial situation is far from where I’d like it to be.
I check the prices of items at the grocery store and thrift my clothes, and I think long and hard about every single major purchase because I don’t have anyone who can bail me out if I make a bad financial decision. ”
Reeve’s brow creases, and I know he’s taking this little speech in a way I don’t want him to.
“This isn’t a dig at you,” I tell him. “Or your trust fund, or the way you grew up. Please don’t take it that way.
I know that having money comes with its own set of challenges.
I just want you to understand that I will always be the person who checks the prices on menus at a restaurant, and I will wear the same old winter coat because a new one isn’t in the budget—and that is not a bad thing. ”
As the words come out of my mouth, I realize how true they really are.
“All that stuff with my credit and my mom was awful, but it had a silver lining. I know I can take care of myself. My financial planning skills are pretty stellar now, but that comes with making financial decisions I know I can handle independently. I am really good at this now, Reeve, and I don’t want you to… save me.”
Reeve opens his mouth. I know a firm denial is about to exit his lips, so I cut it off before he can get it out.
“I know that’s not what you’re trying to do, but if you just gave me the money, I would always know that I couldn’t figure this out on my own—and I have, Reeve.
I talked to the admissions office, and they will let me defer a year.
That gives me twelve more months where I can reduce my debts and hopefully get myself in a situation where the bank might be willing to lend me money again, and as a backup, I will try to figure out another plan for the dance hall.
It’s far from foolproof, but it’s what I’ve got. ”
Reeve nods and doesn’t say anything further. It makes me think our conversation is over, but as we approach Lou’s parking lot, he slows the car and puts on his hazards just shy of the turnoff. “I get it. You want to do this on your own. But would you be open to hearing about a different idea?”
I stare at him skeptically. “As long as it doesn’t involve you or your money.”
He turns off his hazards, flips his blinker, and pulls us back onto the road. “It does involve me, but not in the way that you’re thinking.”
—
We drive for forty-five minutes. Despite my pleading and moaning that I’m starving and cannot survive a moment longer without pancakes, Reeve gives me no clues as to where we are going or what we are doing until he turns down an unfamiliar wooded road.
“This is the second time I’ve allowed you to take me into strange, dark woods. Don’t ever say I don’t trust you completely.”
He takes a right at the fork. “You might want to hold on to that thought.”
I see the blue lake glimmering through the trees before the road opens into a large clearing with a small parking lot. Like a tiny farmers market, seven or eight small wooden kiosks are gathered in a large circle.
“What is this place?” I ask Reeve when we get out of the car, and Reeve waves across the circle to a man I immediately recognize.
“It doesn’t have a name,” Reeve explains as he takes my hand and leads me to the stall where Marcus Landers is showing off a large blue platter to a woman in a humongous white straw hat. “There’s a big sign that says ‘Local Art’ back on the road, but I’ve never heard it called anything officially.”
Reeve waves at a woman with long red hair in paint-spattered overalls. Her kiosk is filled with local landscapes and tiny watercolors of local flora and fauna.
The rest of the kiosks are also filled with art, ranging from homemade wind chimes to intricate pottery like Marcus’s and—
I pick up a very familiar cylindrical vase. “Wait. Is this one of yours?” I turn to Reeve, his wide smile confirming my suspicions without him saying a word.
“Marcus convinced me to share a few pieces. He actually sold something the other day.”
I hug the vase to my chest. “Well, you’re about to make a second sale. I’m taking this one home with me.”
He takes the vase from my hands and puts it back on the table. “I have an entire closet full of these things. Next time you come over, I’ll send you home with five.”
I consider ignoring him and buying it anyway but relent, justifying it with the thought that someone else is going to see it and fall in love.
The woman with the hat decides to buy the platter. As Marcus rings up her purchase, I peruse the rest of his table, spotting a few pieces I noticed when we visited his studio and a new piece that knocks the breath from my lungs.
It’s of a couple in a dancer’s hold. He’s in a summer suit. She’s in a white dress. Her skirt is billowed out as if frozen in mid-twirl. They are looking at each other in a way that cannot be described as anything but true love.
Marcus, who has been watching me take in the sculpture, picks it up.
“I call it The Lovers. ” He hands it to me.
“I made it after I learned about these dance halls they had all along the coast of Lake Huron. Pretty much every town had one. There were hundreds in their heyday all across southern Ontario.”
I run my fingers over their faces to try to hide my surprised smile. His slicked-back hair. The sparkle in her blue eyes. So familiar. “Did you model these two after anyone?”
Marcus looks at me, surprised. “It’s the funniest thing.
I had a dream about these two and couldn’t get them out of my head.
Then, the next day, the sculpture felt like it had molded itself.
It happens like that sometimes. I call it divine intervention.
If you’re interested, I can throw it in as part of our deal. ”
I look from him to Reeve, not fully following. “What deal?”
Marcus points to the kiosks. “This place is only open April through August. Reeve has been trying to get a few of us to put together a more permanent show. We’ve been dragging our feet, not having a good place in mind, but we heard your dance hall is available for rent.”
“You want to rent the dance hall?” I’m still not sure I’m following him correctly.
Marcus looks at Reeve before returning his gaze to me.
“You look confused,” he says to me. “I may have jumped the gun a little. I assumed our new gallery manager would have already filled you in. But yes, I hope you’re open to it.
I know you are looking for a buyer, and we may be able to get there eventually, but we’re hoping for a four-year lease to ensure we can get things up and running.
I’ll have Reeve fax over our formal offer to your real estate agent, but I hope we can do business together, Jules. I have a good feeling about this.”
Before I can say anything back, Marcus excuses himself to help a middle-aged couple who have stopped by his kiosk to find an anniversary present for their friends.
With Marcus gone, Reeve nods toward the woods. “Can we sit and talk?”
I nod back, follow him to a knocked-over log near a pretty spot at the edge of the woods, and sit.
“So what do you think?” he asks.
Although I’m watching a little green bug climb along a maple leaf in front of me, I can feel Reeve studying my face.
“About Marcus’s offer? Or your new job?”
I can hear Reeve take a deep breath, and when the answer doesn’t immediately come, I turn to look at him and do some face studying of my own.
“I wanted you to consider the offer before I told you about the job.” His words come out in a rush, as if he’s held his breath this entire time.
“I really want you to make this decision for yourself. I know a lease isn’t what you were hoping for, but by continuing to own it, you’ll have the certainty that no one will develop the land. ”
What he says makes sense. I like the idea of knowing for certain what the building will be used for, and I can picture the space as a gallery.
“And you’re going to manage it?”
Reeve smiles. “Marcus has been trying to convince me to do it for a while. The pay is abysmal. The hours are long, and my dad probably won’t speak to me for months, but I need to do it. I owe it to Reeve from the dock.”
I take his hand and squeeze it, loving how happy he looks as he tells me his plan. “I’m really glad you’re doing this.”
He nods, but then his smile slips. “But if you don’t want to lease, or if the gallery doesn’t feel right, I don’t want you to do it. We will find another space if we need to. I don’t want you to feel obligated—”
“I don’t,” I say, cutting him off. “I really like this idea. I mean, I will need to talk it through with Miranda, of course. But it feels right.”
I think Kitty would approve.
A smile returns to Reeve’s face as he pulls me to my feet and plants a soft kiss on my forehead.
“Are you going to be okay with having a starving artist for a boyfriend?”
I pretend to think about it before sliding my arms around his waist. “You are all I need, Reeve Baldwin.”
He leans closer to kiss me again but stops. “There’s just one other problem. If this all works out the way I hope it works out, I’m going to be living up here most of the year, but you’ll be in Toronto for school. We’re going to be long-distance for a while.”
I lean over and press my lips to his with nothing but hope in my heart for our future.
“I think we can make it work. We are living in a beautiful age. We have the internet, and, more important, we have sexting.”