by Jenny Rabe
“Rob, I need to talk to you.”
Rob spun around, dropped his bag on the ground, and smiled. “You do? Finally, man. I knew you’d see things my way. I never meant to hurt you.”
Brian bristled. His way? If Rob thought he’d allow someone to dissect his decisions, he had another thing coming. “Uh right. Will you and your book publisher meet me at my house at seven tonight? It’s about time I set the record straight, and I have a favor to ask.”
“I haven’t talked to her since that one night. I doubt she’ll even answer.”
Brian opened his mouth in surprise. “You haven’t?”
“No, man. I swear I didn’t plan for this to happen.”
Brian shrugged. “Well, I need her. Can you just make sure you two come over tonight? Time is of the essence right now.”
Rob’s smile grew wider across his face, driving the irritation deeper. “Oh, I’ll be there. I’m gonna make this right.”
“Yeah right,” Brian said under his breath, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “We’ll see.”
* * *
Brian drummed his fingers against the coffee table at a quarter to seven. He saw the meeting going many different ways in his mind. Full-on shouting matches, breaking down in tears like he had with one reporter, and numbly answering questions. Either way, he dreaded the interview.
May bustled into the room, carrying a tray of drinks and snacks.
He cocked his head sideways at her. “Why did you fix all that? This is not a cordial meeting.”
May shrugged and laid the tray on the ottoman. “Sometimes you catch more flies with tar.”
Brian sniggered. “No one says that.”
“I was hoping to lighten the mood at least.”
The bell rang, and he gave her a skeptical look. “Let’s hope it works. I need them to be on board.”
May went off to welcome them in. When they came into the room, Jean didn’t look nearly as striking this time. Dressed in a pair of jean shorts and a short sleeved shirt with a hood, she looked ready for a day in the park instead of a business meeting. Her casual attire relaxed him a little.
“I’m so sorry,” she said before he could get anything out. “Our last meeting was kind of a bust. I had a few expectations, but I never wanted you to get the wrong idea.”
Brian snorted. “What were your expectations? What were you hoping to accomplish?”
Jean sat next to Rob on the couch with a flop. “I don’t know. I wanted to impress you. I thought because you were a billionaire, you were pretty high class.”
Brian scrunched up his brows. “What? I am high—”
“No, sorry. That didn’t come out right. I meant I wanted to impress you, have you trust me.”
Brian laughed. “Well, the creepy texts and messages are still rolling in. Are you sure you don’t know about those?”
“I don’t, and I definitely don’t do business that way.”
Brian scratched his head. The texts had stopped since his number change, but he had an eerie suspicion someone was still out to get him.
“Anyway,” she said, “I’m sorry again. I should have been more forthcoming with everything. And Rob, I’m really sorry I broke your trust.”
Rob nodded, and Brian flashed him a half-smile. At least he hadn’t jumped into a relationship with her.
“Thank you,” Brian said. “Let’s just move on and be respectful of each other’s privacy.”
“Absolutely,” she said, pulling out a pad of paper and a pen from her bag.
Brian sighed at her enthusiasm. Hopefully, he knew what he was doing. “Okay, I’m willing to do an exclusive story and the possibility of a book deal, with a few conditions.”
“Whatever you want.”
“You only tell the truth.”
Jean twitched her mouth. “Well, of course I would. I know I put out the impression that I’m a bad person, but I’ll do it. The reason Rob brought up your story was because he hates how you were treated.”
Brian glanced at Rob, but he wouldn’t meet his eye. “Thanks, Rob. I guess that puts you on my good side again. It’s just hard to trust people, you know.”
Rob lifted his head a bit. “Yeah. I get that, and I promise never to betray your trust again.”
Brian nodded, more calm than he had been in days. “Let’s just move on. Another condition is that this story will release after the release of the article on Cambria. I am guessing you write for the local newspaper.”
Jean blushed. “When I have a story they like. Lately, nothing is sticking.”
Brian clapped his hands together. “I might be able to get you in a few doors, and hey, this might help the both of us.”
Jean smiled. “I’d really appreciate that. So, Cambria? What article do you want to do on her?”
Brian sighed. “I think I have just the right story to shake the city, and Cambria is at the heart of that story.”
Jean widened her eyes. “Well, if it’s going to impact the community, I am all ears.”
Chapter Twenty Nine
Cambria
Cambria avoided her phone for the next few days, in case Brian got any ideas. She sat down at the computer and reviewed every sale, just to confirm that he truly had bought every painting. He had used six of the addresses three times and three of them two times. She had barely even paid attention. No wonder he wanted to deliver the boxes to the post office. One less step for him.
Tears slipped down her cheeks as she remembered the betrayal she felt when she saw her work stacked in his garage like discarded toys. Her heart felt ripped to shreds, and she wasn’t sure how to move past this. She hadn’t been able to paint since that day. He’d sent her into a new grieving spiral.
And paying him back seemed impossible at this point. When she thought of how much money she’d put as a down payment on the house and how much she would need to save, it made her stomach ache. It would take most of a year to earn that much. And then there was the matter of paying him back for all the supplies he’d gifted her.
The doorbell rang, making her jump. She stayed glued to the couch. If it was Brian, she didn’t want to hear any excuses.
“It’s me. Open up, please,” Mrs. Walker called out to her, as if she knew Cambria needed the reassurance. Her tiny fists beat against the door, and she yelled for her again.
“All right, all right.” Cambria swiped at the tears on her face and went to open the door.
Mrs. Walker took one look at her and gathered her in her arms. Cambria’s cries turned to sobbing as Mrs. Walker held her tighter.
“Oh, honey. If I would have known it was this bad, I would have come when that boy dropped you off. Did he hurt you?”
She shook her head, and Mrs. Walker lead her to the couch where Cambria pulled her knees to her chest.
“Did you two break up?”
Cambria shrugged. She didn’t even know if they’d been dating again in the first place.
Mrs. Walker sighed. “Well, my guesses might sound a little ridiculous. Why don’t you tell me what happened.”
Cambria buried her face in her knees. “He bought all my paintings.”
She peeked to see Mrs. Walker’s expression and lifted her head when she saw Mrs. Walker chuckling to herself. “Don’t laugh. It’s not a good thing.”
“Honey, that boy loves you. If he bought all your work, he must either love your work or love you.”
The thought of him loving her seemed incredulous right now. You didn’t buy someone’s love. Cambria laughed a mirthless laugh. “I should’ve known something was wrong when he was so helpful in bringing my paintings to the post office. I bet he didn’t even deliver them. He probably just took them straight to his garage. I can’t believe I trusted him.”
Mrs. Walker looked around the room. Her face grimaced as she saw the very untidy mess Cambria had allowed herself to exist in. “When is the last time you left the house?”
Cambria didn’t even have to think about it. “About a week ago, the day
he dropped me off.”
“Have you painted?”
Cambria shook her head. “It seems I’ve lost all desire to work.”
Mrs. Walker clapped her hands. “Well, then I have good news. There is a new art gallery opening in town, and I want to take you for opening night.”
Cambria perked up some. “Art gallery? Here in Harker Heights?”
Mrs. Walker smiled. “Just downtown.” She handed Cambria a newspaper article. “I cut it out for you.”
Cambria scanned the title, then widened her eyes. It was the same store she and Brian had passed on their walk downtown, the same one she would have picked for a gallery. Lucky person. She read the article aloud.
“The previous Fairfield Gallery downtown has been purchased and renovated by an anonymous party, claiming to be opening another art gallery. The historical building has been vacant for three years and was previously owned by Mr. Fairfield himself, prominent citizen of the community and supporter of local art. The new owners feel they are a good fit for the city and are holding a free two-hour introductory event to which the public is invited, especially families with military ties. Interested persons are encouraged to attend. More information on the owners and use of the building will be provided at that time.
Cambria stopped reading and threw down the paper with a huff. Not only was someone taking her art gallery, but now they were displaying something in honor of the military. She pictured the building she’d walked by with Brian and sighed. How had the new owner fixed things up so quickly? Maybe she could get a few paintings in there in the future, if her inspiration ever came back.
Mrs. Walker patted her hand, reminding her of the invitation. “Might be nice to dress up and get out. I’m positive you don’t want to miss this.”
Cambria smiled meekly. “But it’s in a few hours.”
Mrs. Walker nodded. “So you better hurry.”
Cambria groaned. “Okay, I’ll go. Let me shower and see if I can find something not spotted with paint.”
An hour later, Cambria met Mrs. Walker at her car in the only sleek, black dress she had. It was a little formal, but it would probably fit the crowd perfectly.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to follow you? I’m happy to drive myself.” Cambria wanted the ability to leave whenever she wanted.
Mrs. Walker shook her head. “I’d really like the company and help. One of the co-owners asked if I could come a little early and help out, but we can leave whenever you want.”
Cambria nodded. She hoped Mrs. Walker meant they could leave a few minutes after they arrived. If they were going early, at least it wouldn’t be so crowded. Cambria did not want to deal with crowds. Her high heels that matched her dress were already starting to pinch. But she had to admit she looked nice. She had straightened her hair, adding a touch of blush, mascara, and lipstick.
“You look wonderful,” Mrs. Walker said. “Perfect for an opening night.”
Cambria attempted a smile. “Thanks. Do you know who opened it?” She was sure she wouldn’t know the person, but the art world was not as big as it looked.
Mrs. Walker shrugged, though she wore a little smile. Of course she was happy. She had won in getting Cambria outside of the house.
Cambria settled back against the seat and zoned out as Mrs. Walker’s chatter about the morning filled the car. It was a short drive to the gallery, but Mrs. Walker chose a back street to get to the parking lot, putting them behind the gallery.
“We’ll park back here and walk around,” Mrs. Walker said, reading her thoughts. “That way we’ll have less traffic.”
Cambria looked around at the packed parking lot. “Wow, are these cars here for the gallery?” It was almost six at night. Not many businesses stayed open later than five downtown. “This is a pretty good turnout for an art gallery, and it’s still an hour away from opening.”
Mrs. Walker smiled. “I think the city is excited for some artistic culture.”
They walked around toward the front when someone wrapped an arm around her from behind. “There you are.”
Cambria whipped around to see Brian dressed in a suit and tie. “What are you doing here?” she demanded, slipping out of his grasp.
“Thank you for bringing her, Mrs. Walker,” he said, ignoring her.
Cambria glared at her neighbor. “You did this?”
Mrs. Walker had the decency to look embarrassed.
“I’m going home,” Cambria huffed. “I knew I should have driven.” She threw her hands up and started in the direction of her house. “Since Mrs. Walker is against me now, I can walk.”
Brian reached for her hand, pulling her back to him. “Just hold your horses. If you don’t see this, the whole night will be ruined.”
Cambria snatched her hand away.
“Please. Just give me two minutes. You won’t be disappointed,” Brian said.
“Fine, but I’m leaving after they open the doors.”
Brian smiled, as if he knew she wouldn’t be able to leave. “Okay.”
Well, she’d show him. A crowd was gathered in front of the gallery, blocking her view, the name of the gallery still covered with a large white sheet. Brian whistled loudly, sending an ear-piercing shriek across the street. The crowd parted and the sheet fell.
Cambria covered her mouth with a hand and silently read the gallery’s name. The Shawn Henshaw Art Gallery. Underneath the gallery’s name was a small line of text. Dedicated to Those Who Have Fought Bravely for Our Country. “Wait, that’s—”
Brian reached for her hand tentatively, and Cambria was too shocked to push him away. “Let’s have a sneak peek before it opens. You have to see the gallery before everyone enters.”
Cambria continued to stare at the name on the gallery’s sign and then back at Brian. Was this a dream? The tightness in her throat began to grow, and she could barely speak the next words. “Did the owner of the gallery name it after my husband?”
Brian tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear, stepping closer. “The owner of the gallery is you, sweetheart.”
Cambria froze. This was her gallery? “What?”
Brian’s smile grew. “I finally decided to put all my buckets of money to use. And no, you cannot pay me back for this. It is bought and paid for, and your name is already on everything.”
Cambria’s smile tickled the edges of her mouth. “You did this for me?”
“It seemed like the right thing to do with my money. The community, and all the soldiers, deserve to be honored. It was a great dream that needed to become a reality.”
Brian kissed her forehead. She closed her eyes, memorizing the feel of his lips on her forehead. Here he was swooping in and saving her again. He had only wanted to help her, to give back to the community.
She opened her eyes to find him studying something behind her and heart fell. No wonder he’d been hesitant to get attached. They were going to be business partners. She stepped away and moved toward the gallery. “Can I see it?”
“Of course.” Brian opened the door, and they left the noise of the growing crowd behind them.
Cambria gasped as she took in the gallery’s transformation. The windows had been replaced with huge, paneled ones that let in natural light, and the hardwood floors had been replaced and gleamed with the extra lighting that had been installed. It was perfect.
The painting of the baseball player stood front and center while her other paintings hung throughout the room. She stared awestruck at what Brian had done for her. Her face crumpled, and she held a hand to her mouth to keep any noises in. She’d been so wrong about him.
A worried look filled Brian’s face. “Do you like it? I mean we can change anything you want: the paint color, the lighting, the displays, anything.”
Cambria shook her head, and her voice broke as she spoke. “This is amazing.”
The worry on his face disappeared. “Right?”
He pointed up to a staircase in the far right corner where a loft was. “There’s even a li
ttle mini studio to work in, and a classroom in the basement for any classes you want to hold. Now you don’t have to wait until the library gets back with you.”
She stared at him with tears in her eyes. “I can’t believe it.”
Brian shrugged. “It felt like the right thing to do after I hurt you so much.”
Cambria swallowed down the disappointment. She couldn’t confuse his feelings for her. He had done this because he wanted to help her. Not because he loved her. Big difference.
“Well, what do we do first?” she asked.
He gave her a tour of the large classroom and the beautiful loft with the fading light filtering in through the windows, easels set up, and cabinets ready to be filled with her materials. It was twice the size of her painting room now. After a walk through the gallery, he led her to the front doors. “Ready to open this place for the first time?”
Cambria gulped. Everything was happening so fast. She wanted to capture each moment. A large pair of silver, metal scissors was brought out from the inside of the store. Two beefy men in business suits grunted as they came toward them.
“Am I cutting a ribbon?” she asked.
“Yes, you are,” said a familiar voice.
Cambria spun on the spot. “Mom? What are you doing here?”
Her mom came toward her, carrying a large red ribbon. Only slightly shorter than Cambria, she wore a bright flowery sundress, pink heels, and her hair was cut short into an A-line. “Well, it’s probably good you didn’t answer my calls. I would’ve spilled the beans. I couldn’t miss the grand opening of your art gallery.”
Her art gallery. She shivered and goosebumps crawled up her arms and down her legs. She gave her mom a hug as she flitted around Cambria, commenting on her outfit and caressing her cheek as she poured out her congratulations.
“I’m so proud of you, honey. You’ve turned something impossible and hard into something beautiful.”