Chapter 21 #2
She lets out a heaving sigh. “Definitely. And I’m still scared…maybe even more so now. People are going to read and review my novel and, who knows, they might rip me to shreds. Tell me I never should have quit my day job?—”
“That’ll never happen, Sunny. You’re so talented.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it. Either way, I’ll never regret my decision to leave law. I hated being a lawyer. It just didn’t feel like me . And I’d much rather pursue my passion and fail miserably, than never even try. ”
A smile lights up my face—and my heart. “You’re right.”
“I mean, what’s the worst that can happen?” Sunny continues. “You’ve already built two successful businesses. If painting doesn’t work out the way you hope, I have no doubt you’ll still land on your feet. And if you are able to turn art into a career…”
“Then I’ve made my dreams come true.”
“Exactly.”
“Thanks, Sunny. I’m so glad I called you for advice.”
“Me too. How are things in Chicago, otherwise? I hear you’ve been hanging out with Sam,” she says, sounding excited.
I chuckle. “Yeah. I think we’re friends now…but she definitely vetted me first.”
Sunny sighs. “I’m sorry about that. Sam doesn’t mince words, that’s for sure.”
“I honestly find her a little intimidating,” I admit. “She’s just so…confident. So self-assured. And she’s beautiful, with these delicate, feminine features, but the things that come out of her mouth…”
Sunny laughs. “She talks like a guy, I know. Sam’s one-in-a-million. But underneath the unfiltered banter, she’s got a heart of gold. You’ll see.”
“That’s good to hear. Because my sister might move to Chicago, and I’m thinking of setting them up as friends. They’re both single, and I think they’d have a lot of fun playing wingwoman for each other.”
“Wait,” Sunny says. “So, if you want Sam and your sister to hang out because they’re both single…does that mean what I think it means? Are you dating someone? ”
Her voice is full of hope, which makes my heart swell. I haven’t told Sunny or Dex about Hunter yet, but they know I have a complicated history when it comes to love. It’s so sweet they’ve both been rooting for me to find it.
“As a matter of fact, I am,” I say with a beaming smile. “His name is Charlie, and he’s my next-door neighbor. He’s amazing, and we have the best chemistry. It’s still early, but…I think he might be the one, Sunny.”
All I hear on the other line are sniffles.
“Sunny? Are you crying?”
“It’s the pregnancy hormones,” she tells me before blowing her nose. “I’m just so happy for you, Jenna. You deserve this.”
“You know what?” I say. “I finally feel like I do.”
The next morning, after I roll out of bed, I’m on my way to the kitchen to make coffee when something catches my eye: another photograph slipped underneath my front door.
Charlie.
I pick it up, smiling. This one’s of Denver, and it’s breathtaking—an urban landscape that’s a striking contrast to the magnificent mountains behind it. Overhead, a sunset paints the sky in pretty purple, pink, and orange hues.
I flip over the picture.
Missed you so much this weekend. Can’t wait to see you later .
And below his signature, the postscript reads: Open your door.
Beaming, I follow his instructions and find the most beautiful bouquet of wildflowers, in colors that match the sunset in Charlie’s photograph. Right away, I text him to say thank you.
I can’t wait to see him tonight. But first, I have an important day of work ahead of me.
I eat breakfast, get dressed, and drive north on Lake Shore Drive to my client Nadine’s high-rise condo.
Since I moved to Chicago, we’ve been working together on small projects throughout her home.
She recently split with her partner of ten years, but got to keep the apartment in the settlement, and wants it to look more like her.
Nadine’s style is quirky and eclectic, and she loves bright colors, which makes her a lot of fun to work with.
“Jenna, sweetheart, come in,” she says in her heavy New York accent. “Do you like matcha? I have matcha, and I have coffee—but it’s not the good coffee I like from Sutton’s. They were out this morning. Can you believe it?”
“Shame on them,” I say, suppressing a giggle. “Matcha’s great, thanks.”
“Alright, follow me,” she says, hurrying into the kitchen. After she pours my tea, she turns to face me. “So how do I look?”
I smile. “Fabulous, as always.” Nadine is petite, like me.
Her hair is cut short and dyed jet black, and she has on bright red lipstick to match her eyeglass frames.
She’s wearing kelly green pants with a royal blue sweater, and a canary yellow scarf draped over her shoulders.
It’s a vibrant ensemble, yet somehow, it works on her .
“But do I look any different?” she presses.
I examine her more carefully as she stands, posing with her hands on her hips. I don’t notice anything out of the ordinary. My eyes land on her face. Botox maybe? But surely she doesn’t want me to ask her about that…
When I shake my head, Nadine laughs. “I’m another year older. Just turned fifty.”
“Oh my gosh, happy birthday! You look amazing.”
“New decade, new chapter,” she says, handing me the cup of matcha. “Come. Let’s take a look at the guest bathroom and see how we can spruce it up.”
We decide on a beautiful blue Spanish tile and potted plants to bring the space to life, along with updated fixtures and some art on the walls. After we’ve made a plan, Nadine walks me back out to the living room.
“You know, Jenna, I have a neighbor who’s looking for a good designer, and I’d love to recommend you. But you must be up to your eyeballs in requests after Lola Piper tweeted about you.”
I laugh. “Yeah, it’s been an interesting few weeks, that’s for sure. But going viral forced me to think about what I want my career to look like, long-term. And…I made a decision.”
Last night, after talking to Sunny.
“Tell me,” Nadine says with an encouraging nod.
“I’m not taking on new design clients. I’m going to wrap up with the amazing people I’m currently working with,” I say with a wink, “and once we’re done, I’m going to hang up my hat and try my hand at being a working artist. A painter, specifically.”
It is such a relief saying the words out loud.
I kept going over them in my head on the drive over, because I knew I’d be making this announcement today.
Every time I visit Nadine, she wants to refer a friend to me.
I hate saying no, but I’ve finally made the choice to move forward as an artist—and I need to act accordingly.
Nadine claps her hands. “Perfect. I need paintings.”
“Oh,” I exclaim, taken by surprise. “Well, I thought we’d pick those out from the gallery district.”
My client shrugs. “What for? I’d much rather commission something from an artist I know.”
My heart flutters. “Really? But…you haven’t even seen my work.”
“So, show me,” she says, matter-of-factly. “You’re so creative, I’m sure it’s fantastic.”
I put down my cup of tea, pull my phone out of my bag, and navigate to my photo albums. When I show her my paintings, her eyes go wide.
“Holy smokes,” she utters, grabbing my cell to get a closer look.
“You like them?”
“How did you do this?” she asks, stunned. “Did you paint from photographs, or did you have people sit for you?”
“Neither,” I say. “I just painted them from memory.”
Nadine squints at me. “Do you know how incredible that is?”
“I guess I never really thought about it. But thank you.” I pick up my cup of matcha, which I’d set down on an end table, and take a sip while Nadine keeps perusing the photos.
“And who is this hottie?” she asks, pointing to the portrait of Charlie. “Your boyfriend? ”
I nod, beaming.
“What I wouldn’t give for someone to look at me like that,” she says with a sideways glance at me. “He’s in love with you.”
“I hope so,” I answer, my cheeks on fire.
“Well, I’m calling it: you’re going to be the next big name in the art world. Do you only do portraits?” she says, handing my phone back to me.
I slip it into the back pocket of my linen pants. “That’s my focus for this particular collection, but I don’t want to limit myself. I’d like to build a portfolio of landscapes, too.”
With Charlie’s interest in travel photography, I was thinking it would be fun to turn some of his photos into paintings someday. And I’d start with the one I found under my door this morning. The mountains against the backdrop of that gorgeous sunset sky would be so much fun to recreate.
“Then it’s settled,” Nadine says. “I’ll take three paintings. Two landscapes, and a portrait of my mother. I have this beautiful picture of her when she was young—she was a beauty queen, you know. That’s where I get my looks.”
“Wow…my very first sale. I don’t know how to thank you. This is amazing.” I want so badly to give her a hug, but Nadine’s not one for big emotional displays. So I take another sip of matcha instead.
“Alright, now let’s talk money,” Nadine continues, getting down to business. “I’ll give you the fifteen grand I was going to spend at the gallery district—is that enough for three paintings?”
I almost choke on my drink. “Is that enough ? Nadine, I couldn’t possibly…it’s too much. I’m just st arting out.”
“You may just be starting out, but these are not amateur paintings, sweetheart. I’m considering this an investment. Your work will probably be worth a fortune one day.”
“Oh, Nadine,” I blubber, tears rolling down my cheeks, and—I can’t help it—I give her a hug.
She pats my back awkwardly before stepping out of my embrace. “Alright, enough with the mushy stuff. I’ve got a pedicure appointment downtown I have to get to. I’ll email you a copy of my mom’s picture. You can start there, and we’ll talk about the landscapes after you’re done.”
I nod and follow her to the front door, barely maintaining my composure.
“Thanks again, Nadine,” I say after I step out into the hall. “You have no idea what this means to me.”
She just winks at me, and I try my best not to start crying again until the elevator doors close.