Chapter 6 #2
By the way Crissy had explained the lively crowd at Trivia Night, and the friendly approach the celebrity had with all the locals begging for selfies and autographs from both him and his girlfriend, it sounded like he was a really great guy on top of a great football player.
It didn’t help that she’d spent the rest of the night looking him up.
She had learned through an internet search that Ryan Mathers was known for his philanthropic ways.
Outside of his football career, he spent time giving back to his community.
In every interview, he thanked his mother and God for his accomplishments.
She noticed a trend in how he answered questions, which never focused on himself.
He mentioned other players, how he had a great team, a knowledgeable coach—anything other than boasting his own efforts.
She could tell he enjoyed what he did, and his passion came out in the game.
Highlights from the Super Bowl showed a very calm and collected player who excelled at everything.
She remembered, since she had watched it while working in the restaurant.
One of her parents’ busiest nights of the year.
She held her paintbrush as she watched the ferry entering the harbor.
People filled the ship, hanging on the railing, holding their phones out to the picturesque island.
She could imagine their view. The red-and-white lighthouse towering above the quaint tiny village of a few shops, even less restaurants, and one inn.
The church’s steeple peeking out of the foliage of the trees.
Her view was of the bay and the city beyond.
Her favorite view from Isabel Island. The busy world too far from her calm island.
With miles of sea between them and the mainland, people here moved a bit slower, seemed a bit more patient, and a lot friendlier.
The seven-mile distance kept out the stress that came with the hustle and bustle of the city.
But she’d do anything to have the anonymity of a city right now.
Did everyone already know that Johnny was a total creep? How long had he been receiving photographs like that? Was it just her, or were there others?
She hit her head with her paintbrush. No more thinking of Johnny, or other men for that matter. She would focus on the image in front of her and paint it.
Just like she had hoped, she fell into the rhythm of the strokes and into another world.
Like the sing-song of a bird’s call or the pattern of the waves lapping against the shore, the gentle strokes she used to create the scene transported her off the porch of the inn.
No longer did the images of the naked mystery woman haunt her thoughts, or how foolish she must look to everyone in her life, or how she had allowed herself to overlook the signs on purpose.
She fell deep into the creation of her hand capturing what her eyes saw.
When she finished outlining the painting, she vowed to be finished worrying and perseverating about Johnny.
Thea spent all day painting. It wasn’t until after the sun set that she had finished the base of her painting.
She would have to work on it a bit longer to have a finished product, but the solitude and the steady strokes made everything seem a bit better.
Even if she wasn’t okay, she knew she would be better with time.
“You okay?” Margaret asked when she started cleaning up her stuff.
Thea nodded. “I’m just working stuff out.”
“Hmm.” Margaret looked at the unfinished painting. “You look like you see a new future.”
“Why’s that?” Thea asked as she put her paints away.
“Because Johnny’s coffee sign isn’t there.” Margaret pointed to an empty lot where Johnny’s Bicycle Shop would have stood.
She hadn’t meant to ignore the shop when painting. It could have been the angle she sat or the large pillar obstructing the view, but she’d omitted the shop that had stood there for as long as she could remember.
“It’s the angle,” she said, but she could see how ridiculous she looked. “This painting’s for me.”
“Ah…” Margaret nodded at her in understanding. “I’ve always wondered what you saw in that man.”
Here came the opinions. Her family and friends usually waited until the winter when he was away to tell her how they felt about her relationship, but now it seemed that the floodgates were open.
“You know I love you,” Margaret said to her.
“Uh-oh,” Thea said, preparing herself for the advice she wasn’t asking for.
“But you always see the best in people when they show you nothing but the worst.” Margaret gave her the most sympathetic smile she had ever seen Margaret muster. She didn’t show many emotions, happiness being one of them. “That’s your greatest gift and one of your greatest downfalls.”
“Gee, thanks, Margaret.” Thea shook her head as she planned an exit.
She wasn’t ready to hear everyone’s opinions.
Not yet. Not until the sting of giving everything to someone to get only pain in return goes away.
And judging by the fact she was still in the stage of denial, she had a ways to go. “I should get going.”
She shut her box of paints and stuffed them into her bag. She’d clean her brushes when she got home.
“Thanks again for letting me camp out on your porch,” Thea said, kissing Margaret on the cheek. Her old boss had always been like a grandparent she’d never had. “I’m around if you need anything.”
“Stop and have a nightcap with me,” Margaret said, lifting up a chilled bottle of Prosecco.
If it hadn’t been for Margaret, Thea might still be waiting tables at her parents’ restaurant. So when Margaret asked her to stop and have a drink, Thea would oblige. She set down her things.
“Okay,” she said, sitting in a wicker chair. She took an empty glass from Margaret.
Margaret poured a very generous-sized portion of wine for each of them.
“He’s not worth crying over,” Margaret said as she took a deep gulp of wine. She reached over and rubbed Thea’s shoulder. “You’re a catch. Watch, there will be a line out your door when people find out you’re single.”
Thea gently placed the glass of wine down on the side table between them. She wasn’t in the mood for drinking.
Everything about that moment made Thea feel weak and vulnerable, and she didn’t like that.
She had been taking care of herself for most of her life.
By the time Crissy had left the house, her parents were ready to be empty nesters.
With the restaurant, they didn’t have time for parenting a young daughter.
Not to mention a daughter who wasn’t interested in anything other than the family business.
“I think it’s time for you to start thinking bigger,” Margaret said. “Your little shop always has customers coming in and out. Why not expand into a bigger place?”
“What do you mean?” she asked, wondering where her landlord was going. “I don’t have any room to expand, unless I get rid of my apartment upstairs.”
Her small apartment, which was above the shop had been her home for the past ten years. She couldn’t find another place on the island that she’d be able to afford. She certainly wasn’t willing to move back into her parents’ place.
Margaret shook her head. “I’ve got something to tell you.”
Thea’s stomach dropped.
“Paul and I are getting older now,” Margaret began. “We aren’t the spring chickens we used to be.”
Thea could feel something about to drop from underneath her. “Are you selling the inn?”
Margaret looked at her but said nothing.
Thea’s throat immediately dried up. It was worse than that. “I see.”
Margaret had every right to retire. The innkeeper had owned the inn for over thirty years. She and her husband deserved to enjoy their last years free from the stress of running an inn.
“We decided to put both of our properties on the market.” Margaret paused as if letting the news sink in. “Of course, we want to offer the shop’s property to you first. We can make a fair deal for you.”
Thea nodded, running the numbers of her savings in her head. She had been saving for a house for years. Something that could fit a family, but she wasn’t close enough to afford anything on the island.
Margaret handed over the printout of the listing.
“Wow!” Thea said, shocked by the price tag on the gift shop’s building. It was triple what she’d expected it to be. “That’s a lot.”
Margaret frowned. “I’m sorry, Thea. If we could make the sale dependent on your continued rental, we would, but we can’t tell the owner what they can do with their property. But if you can buy it…”
Thea couldn’t. No way could she afford it, even if the banks were generous. Her shop didn’t give her the income to pay for the mortgage. How had Margaret afforded to keep her in the property as long as she had?
“What if you do something different?” Margaret suggested.
“Like what?”
“Like sell more of your paintings.” Margaret held out her hand at the canvas.
She’d never make enough money, even if Ryan Mathers kept buying her paintings.
“Do you have any offers yet?” Thea hoped they hadn’t, but by the look on Margaret’s face, she didn’t need to say the answer out loud.
“Yes,” Margaret said. “And, unfortunately, they have no interest in being landlords.”
Thea started thinking of her options. Maybe she could afford the shop. “I could talk to the bank. Maybe with enough down, I could secure a loan.”
Margaret nodded. “Good. You do that, we’d love to sell it to you.”
“I can’t believe you already have an offer. That was fast,” Thea said.
“He offered before we even started thinking about selling,” Margaret said.
“Who?” Her stomach had sunk when she’d heard the pronoun. It couldn’t be.