Chapter Twenty-Three #3
Alara let that go by—to live in—and led them inside, to the room where she'd been working. Her office had a good view, but the light wasn't right, so Charles had opened up this one for her. It was perfect: windows on two sides, and lots of natural light.
She gestured to the easel, and while Ollie and Delaney went to look, she spoke to Reaves in a low voice. "I love that they want to see it. But we really wanted to get to your dad and Zia. I don't want to hold everyone up with my stuff."
He slid his hand under her hair and curled his fingers around the back of her neck. "A few minutes won't make any difference. They already know the good news. And this is important."
"Important why?"
He smiled and tipped his head toward Delaney, who was turning around with her hands on her hips.
"Damn, girl. I knew you were good. But this is…" She shook her head. "This is exquisite."
Ollie turned more slowly, looking thoughtful, and for a moment Alara worried he didn't like it. Then he met her gaze. "I need one."
"Excuse me?"
Reaves chuckled beside her. "Uh-oh. He gets that look sometimes. When he does, he won't stop until he gets his way."
"I don't understand," said Alara. "You want—what?"
Ollie finally grinned. "This is it. This is what I really wanted—I just didn't know it until I saw it. And no one else could have done it. It has to be you."
Reaves laughed. "Slow down. Stop rambling and start making sense, bud."
Ollie gave Alara a rueful smile. "Yeah. Sorry. What I mean is, I'd like to commission you. To paint something for me."
"Really?" She could tell by his face that he meant it. This wasn't Ollie trying to slip her money undercover again. This was a man who'd seen something in her work and fallen for it. She wasn't going to make light of it. It meant the world to her—she could see it meant something to him.
"I need you to paint the view from my place." He frowned. "But—do you do people?"
"What do you mean, do people?"
"I had these portrait photos taken. Of Callie and Dad and me. But a photo just doesn't feel right—and now I know why. It needs to be a painting. There's no way the three of us would stand still long enough for you to paint us in front of the landscape, though. Could you do it from a photo?"
She laughed. "I know exactly what you mean. And yeah. I can do that. No problem."
He came closer and held his arms out. "Is it all right if I…?"
She loved that he was asking her, and not Reaves. She nodded, and he wrapped her in a brief hug before stepping back.
"Thanks, Alara. And I'll pay—a premium, I expect, since I want it done soon."
Alara opened her mouth, but Delaney spoke over her.
"Don't you dare say a word." She laughed.
"Not one word about friend pricing. You might not want to work for me—but let me work for you.
I know you can do your own visual branding.
But let me handle the pricing, at least. We're going to present you as premium.
" She jerked her chin at Ollie. "And he's not the only one around here with more money than God. "
Alara laughed and nodded. But underneath, a flicker of an idea stirred. Maybe, if she was earning decent money—painting for Ollie and people like him, doing flowers for the girls' weddings—maybe by the time the house was finished, she'd be able to rent it from Charles.
"You okay?" Reaves asked quietly.
"Yeah. I'm good."
"Do you like the idea?"
"I love it, Reaves. I really do."
Delaney turned back to her. "Promise me. Before you take any jobs, you’ll run them past me.
I don't want you underpricing yourself." She reached out and squeezed Alara's arm.
"In fact—if you set yourself up as a company, you should call it Goldleaf.
Because that's what you are. The real deal. Worth every penny people will pay you."
After Delaney and Ollie had finally gone, Reaves wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "We'd better go see Dad and Zia, hadn't we?"
"Yeah. I want to share the good news about Sterling Hartman with them, but I'm glad we stuck around long enough for all of that."
"I knew Ollie would like to see what you're doing. But I had no idea he'd…" He shook his head.
"I know. Don't worry, Reaves—I didn't think you’d set it up. It was easy to see what happened. Ollie fell in love with the painting, didn't he?"
"He did. And I love it. For both of you." He meant it. "That your work will be part of it for him—part of the way he's rebuilding things with his dad. Rebuilding their family." He pursed his lips.
"What?" she asked. "You just thought of something, didn't you?"
"I did. And it's probably not the right time—I know we need to go see Dad and Zia. But it was talking about building a family."
She held her breath, waiting.
"Have you thought any more about what I said? About Homer?" He held her gaze. "I talked to the shelter. He's still there. And I want to go get him. But I don't want to force it on you."
She smiled and nodded. "I still don't see how it can work just yet. But I'd hate for someone else to take him home while we figure it out."