Chapter 19 #2
“Let me lock the deal down on the house. It’s sitting empty now, and the new owner is eager to sell. That’ll give us time to do some research on how to price the lessons. We’ll need to decide how many lessons to offer in a session. One or several.”
“It should be a series,” Collin said firmly. “Maybe four weeks. Six. We could have a drawing class and a painting one. I’ll start looking into that, and I’ll make a list of the basic supplies we’ll need to start up.”
“Since you’re the one who’ll be teaching, you can have free rein on what kind of classes. Maybe sketching and painting could be offered separately. Let’s get together in a week and talk things over in more detail.”
Collin took Keaton’s hand and pumped it enthusiastically. “Thanks for giving me this opportunity. I won’t let you down.”
Keaton returned to his truck and pulled out of the gas station. Usually, something of this magnitude would be something he discussed with Layne, but he knew she would be on board with buying the house. He also didn’t want to keep Hillary waiting, so he dropped by her office again.
“Back so soon?” she asked.
“Collin is willing to teach the art lessons. I made him an offer which included living in the house, rent-free, so he could also use part of it as his own art studio.”
She bit back a smile. “I suppose that means you need to purchase the house in order for him to live there and give lessons.”
“Exactly. Let’s get the paperwork rolling.”
She went over a few basics with him, things he was already familiar with, having recently purchased his own house.
“That’s pretty much what you need to know.
Let me contact the owner with your offer.
I’m sure he’ll accept it. When he does, I’ll draw up the papers.
” Hillary smiled. “You’re becoming a real part of this community, Keaton.
Tell Layne I think the idea of offering art lessons is brilliant.
I hope they’ll be for both children and adults. ”
“I’ll need to work that out with Collin, but I hope we can service both age groups.”
He left, stopping at his gallery first, wanting to check on things since he hadn’t been there in a couple of weeks. It wasn’t a day it was open, so he had the place to himself.
Going into his office, he fired up his computer, opening his bank records.
He could swing paying for the house outright without having to carry a mortgage since the price was so reasonable.
He scrawled a few notes to himself on a pad of paper, knowing he would need to talk to his banker.
The pen ran dry, and he tossed it in the trash, opening the lap drawer to retrieve a new one.
It was then that he saw the pair of concert tickets Stacy had gifted him for Christmas. With everything that had been happening in his life, he had completely forgotten about receiving them.
And the concert was this coming Friday night.
Keaton removed the tickets from the drawer and decided to go home.
Layne should have finished her grocery shopping by now.
He would ask her about driving to Houston to see Case perform.
Or they could even fly since it was at least a five-hour drive from the Bay to Houston.
That might be a better use of their time.
The concert would also be the perfect opportunity to ask her to marry him. A romantic getaway. Just the two of them.
He wondered if he should buy her an engagement ring and decided that they should pick one out together.
Houston would have a better selection of stones and settings.
Excitement filled him, knowing they would be starting a new chapter in their lives.
Though their time together had been short, they had helped one another to heal from the heavy hurt in their hearts.
He would go through all the pain of Frankie’s betrayal again, knowing that it had changed his path, bringing him to Driftwood Bay.
And Layne.
Keaton opened the door and exited the gallery, locking it again. When he turned, the sidewalk was blocked.
A old woman stood in front of him, so gaunt that her clothes dwarfed her.
He caught a scent he immediately recognized and knew she was a drug user.
Deep wrinkles lined her face, and her thinning hair reminded him of straw.
She wheezed and started to speak, and he caught sight of her decayed teeth, something he’d learned was called meth mouth.
“Keaton?” she croaked.
“How do you know me?” he demanded.
Then he looked into her bloodshot eyes. Azure eyes.
The same as his.
His gut churned. “Honey?” he asked hoarsely. It was the name she had told him to call her. She had given birth when she was barely seventeen and had refused to think of herself as a mother.
“It’s me,” she said, nodding. “Aren’t you gonna give your mama a hug?”
“I want nothing to do with you,” he said coldly. “You gave me up.”
“I’m sorry,” she whined, beginning to cough, a deep cough that let him know she wasn’t well. “I was young. And God knows, damn stupid.”
“Do you know how awful my life was?” he demanded, his temper rising. “I went from foster home to foster home. I never found a family. I was beaten. Lied to. Starved.” Keaton paused. “Then again, I guess that wasn’t much different from when I lived with you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Well, you’re doing pretty good for yourself now. I read about you. You’re a fancy artist. You have this store. You make a ton of money.”
Now, everything became clear. He knew exactly why she had tracked him down. “I’m not giving you any money, Honey. You’d just buy drugs with it if I did. I don’t owe you squat.”
Her cheeks mottled a dark red, her anger obvious. “You do owe me. I brought you into this world. I need help, Keaton. You’re the only one who can give it to me.”
Eying her steadily, he said, “You would be the last person I would ever help. You were nothing but an incubator. You may have given birth to me, but you never loved me. You only love getting high, and I’m not going to give you money to do that.”
Out of nowhere, she slapped him. Hard. Shaking her head, her voice full of fury, she said, “You were worthless from the start. Always crying. I hated you. I hated having you. You ruined my life, you son of a bitch.”
Keaton looked at her a long moment. She had never taken responsibility for anything. He realized he didn’t hate her. He was merely indifferent to her.
“Go, Honey. There’s nothing here in Driftwood Bay for you.”
“You’d toss out your own mother,” she snarled, then seemed to think better of it. Softening her tone, she added, “Oh, just spend a few hours with me, baby. I’ve been through hard times. Just talking to you would help. I could come home with you. Stay a while.”
He almost laughed aloud at her pathetic attempt to try and play on his sympathy since the anger hadn’t worked.
“I never had a mother. Least of all you,” he replied, stepping around her and walking away.
He got into his truck and started the engine, needing Layne more than he ever had. Keaton pulled away from the curb, turning his truck for home.
And never glanced back at her in the rear view mirror.