Chapter 8 William #2
Kit hesitated, then sighed and said with a slight shoulder slump said, “Thanks. I do need help. Usually Aunt Rita is here, but I just got a text that a storm is moving through the Caribbean, so they aren’t even sure when they’ll get home.
They are talking about canceling flights.
” Kit moved a piece of hair that had fallen from her braid out of her face.
“If you can just take those into the front room, I can start packing them.”
I followed Kit into the front room with the first few boxes.
I went back into the utility closet to get the rest. When I was moving the boxes, a wire art rack became visible.
It was filled with canvases and framed photography.
I looked through it. Some of the work resembled the work in the dining room.
They were large and bold. I looked through each painting that was stretched on a frame, and I noticed a rack of rolled canvasses in the corner.
“Hey, are those your mom’s paintings and photographs in the storage closet?” I asked, setting the last of the empty boxes down in front of the fireplace.
Kit looked up from the pile of ornaments she was making on the coffee table.
“Yeah, my mom had some great pieces. Did you see the colorful river rocks paintings she did?
She did several of those over the years.
I love them. I always thought she should try to get them into a gallery, but she was really focused on what her students achieved. She said that was her real masterpiece.
“Really? Her work is amazing, so she must have had some super talented students.”
"Even though her work was amazing, she’d go on and on about a student who had finally mastered shading or perspective.
She loved it when her students invited her to their art shows or craft fairs.
Not that we have a ton of famous artists coming out of Creekstone, but I do think people who took her classes felt very supported and inspired.
A lot of them went on to pursue some kind of art.
My mom said that was what she was the proudest of.
” Kit shook her head and went back to taking ornaments off the tree.
“Sorry, I’m talking about my mom too much. ”
“No, no!” I said. Kit turned and looked at me. “I’m glad you feel comfortable sharing stories about your mom with me. And trust me, I really get it.”
Kit smiled as I joined her at the tree. I liked standing this close to her.
Over the last few days, I’d spent most of my time with Kit, and if I wasn’t with her, I was thinking about her.
And, unlike other women I spent time with, I was not just thinking about having sex with her.
Although, I had definitely been thinking about that.
But it was more than that. I just wanted to be close to her.
I kept replaying that first night when I held her.
Sure, Kit and I had touched before, mostly incidentally.
I had felt some sparks. I’d dismissed it as basic sexual tension, but that night when I held her on the sofa, that was different.
We connected. I had never felt that before, and I wanted more of it.
“It sounds like your mom had a fulfilling career,” I said, as I carefully took the ornaments off the tree.
Kit watched me for a minute and then asked, “What about you? Do you like your job?”
I thought about it. “I do like my work. I started out doing this job because I wanted to find a way to create financial stability for my mom and me, and I think I’ve done that.
I’m being considered for a promotion. If I get it, I’d be able to do a lot more for communities, and I’m excited about that potential shift in my role.
” I wanted to tell Kit more, but I didn’t want her to know that my promotion depended on how well I did in Creekstone over the next month.
I didn’t want to give Kit a reason to distrust my motives.
She had been so distant and skeptical of me when we first met, and now I felt like she finally trusted me and maybe even liked spending time with me.
I worried that if she found out more about my job and my initial intentions, she’d never talk to me again.
“A promotion?” Kit said. “That’s exciting. When will you know if you got the promotion?”
“Eh, with my boss, there is no telling.” I tried to change the subject. “Tomorrow’s New Year’s Eve. Do you love New Year’s Eve as much as you love Christmas?” I asked, although I didn’t know how that could be possible.
Kit smiled at me. “I’d say New Year’s Eve is my third favorite holiday.”
“What’s second?” I asked.
“Umm, Halloween, of course,” Kit said, as if I’d just said the dumbest thing ever, and then she laughed a little. “How about you? What do you usually do on New Year’s Eve?”
“Eh, nothing special. I can’t stand the crowds in New York on New Year’s Eve.” The truth was, Meredith usually insisted that I join her at some impossibly swanky New Year’s Eve party with whomever I was dating at the time. “What’s fun to do here in Creekstone?”
“Well, Trent texted me earlier today and told me that The Pub is open tomorrow for a New Year’s Eve party. They are going to show the televised peach drop in Atlanta, set off confetti poppers, and serve cheap champagne in plastic cups. Some highbrow shit,” Kit said with a wry smile. “Wanna go?”
“Are you inviting me?” I asked. I was careful not to use the word date.
“I’m informing you of the opportunity,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant. “And that we are all going to be there.”
“I accept your invitation,” I said, ignoring her deflection. It was the first time in a long time I was looking forward to going out on New Year’s Eve.