Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Caleb
Morning light, softened by blinds to protect the artwork, lit Austin Beaumont’s colorful paintings. The transformation from last week’s show of local artists was complete, though a stack of wrapped, unsold canvases in the storeroom waited for their painters.
The door to the gallery swung open and a middle-aged man walked in. A salt-and-pepper beard, neatly trimmed, framed his jaw. His worn, paint-spattered jeans screamed artist. He radiated a warmth that put me at ease. He held out his hand for a shake. “Todd Matthews.”
Ah. The artist of the modern realism watercolors of historic Seacliff Cove. I took his hand in a firm grip. “Caleb Sullivan.”
“Welcome to Seacliff Cove.” He glanced around at the Beaumont show that had replaced his. If he felt any resentment, it didn’t show in his gentle smile. “Can’t believe you left the Louvre and came to our small town.” He grinned, revealing laugh lines. “You’re living above the bookstore?”
I rocked back on my heels. “News travels fast.”
He chuckled. “My wife stopped at The Coffee Cove this morning.” He hesitated, then asked, “I know you’re new here, but I don’t suppose you have any connections with the other art galleries in town?
I’ve been trying to place prints of my Seacliff Cove scenes.
Extra income never hurts.” He shrugged. “But no luck so far. And most of the gift shops sell trinkets and kitsch rather than artwork.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” I helped him load the wrapped paintings into his SUV.
Todd extended his hand again. “Thanks for the opportunity to show here. I hope you’ll consider another exhibition in the future.”
As I watched him drive away, an idea began to form. But I needed to see more of the bookstore first.
During my lunch break, I walked the short blocks to Tides & Tales. The bell chimed above the door, and my heart did its usual stutter when I saw Mason at the counter. He looked better than he had this morning—some color back in his cheeks, though still tired around the eyes.
I wandered the store, taking in details I’d missed before. An events room took up a corner, its wide, high walls decorated with book cover posters. With track lighting, it could easily display paintings.
“What are you doing?”
I turned to find Mason watching me, arms crossed. Even defensive, he was magnificent.
“I have a business proposition for you.” I kept my voice professional, though my pulse quickened. “I just met a local artist. He does incredible watercolors of Seacliff Cove. Tourist-friendly artwork.”
Mason’s eyebrows drew together. “So?”
“So, you have these gorgeous walls.” I gestured to the space. “You could display his originals, sell his prints. It would bring in new customers, create an additional revenue stream—”
“I don’t need your charity.” His voice went sharp. “I’m doing just fine.”
“It’s not charity.” I forced myself to stay calm, though his words stung. “It’s business. Good business. He needs exposure. You need foot traffic. It’s a natural collaboration. I’d help you.”
He ran his fingers through his hair, leaving it standing up. I suppressed a smile. Some things never changed.
“I’m not an art gallery.”
“No, but you’re a community and tourist hub.” I took a careful step closer. “Just meet with him. See his paintings.”
Mason’s jaw worked. I could almost see him running the numbers in his head, weighing pride against practicality.
“Please?” I added softly.
He sighed. “Fine. When?”
“I have the Beaumont show opening this afternoon, but I can arrange something after closing?” Hope fluttered in my chest. “Gallery closes at five, you close at six…”
He sighed. “Set it up for six-thirty.”
I nodded and headed for the door before he could change his mind. As I walked back to the gallery, my steps felt lighter. It wasn’t much, but it was a start—a way to help both Mason and Todd, and maybe, just maybe, a gateway back into Mason’s guarded heart.
Now I just had to make it work.