One Hundred Glances
Kelly Collins
Copyright © 2020 by Kelley Maestas
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover design by Victoria Cooper Art *
Cover photo by Lindee Robinson Photography
Contents
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
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Chapter One
For the last six months, Sosie Grant had tossed out prayers like spare pennies at the Trevi Fountain, but not one was answered.
“There’s got to be something in the studio you can sell,” Sosie said, as Theresa drove toward Aspen Cove.
“I’m your agent, not a sorceress. Knowing you, you started dozens of projects but finished none.”
Sosie shifted in her seat until her head laid on the soft leather facing the driver’s side. On a deep inhale, she took in the lemon and leather scent.
“Is this a new car?” She touched the soft leather of the seat with her fingertips. Theresa must have been doing okay to have a new SUV.
“Nope, it’s the same one as before, but I just had it detailed. Sometimes a little cleaning up of one’s life is a good thing; it puts you on a better path.”
Sosie knew her comment was purposeful. A reminder that the road she was traveling led to a dead end. “I’m not a car.”
“No, but you need a way to keep moving on.”
Sosie ignored the comment. To move forward meant leaving the past behind, and she wasn’t ready to do that. “Do you remember when I was a kid, and I could draw on a napkin, and everyone clamored to buy them?”
“I do, but you’re not a cute two-year-old prodigious artist anymore. You’re a thirty-year-old with a lot to figure out. The first being how to come up with ten to twelve pieces to put in the gallery. If you can’t deliver that, we are both in breach of contract. I’m not going down because you planned poorly.”
“I didn’t plan this. You can be such a bitch sometimes. It’s a wonder you have any clients with that attitude. Don’t forget, you work for me.” She was so tired of Theresa harping at her. It wasn’t as if she controlled her life or situation. Some things were simply out of her hands.
“I’ve never looked at it that way. I’ve always thought of it as you working for me. I’m the broker between you and the client. Without me, you wouldn’t have anything.”
The car swerved, and Sosie’s head hit the glass.
“Your thought process has always been a bit skewed.”
“Don’t forget, you also have to pay back the advance to the Albright family. What did you do with the money, anyway?”
“Do you even have to ask?” She rubbed at the sore spot on the back of her head where it collided with the window.
“Rehab again?” The sound of Theresa hitting the steering wheel with her palm filled the air. “How many times are you going to put your brother in a facility before you realize Gage won’t stop drinking?”
“As long as it takes for him to stop drinking.” Theresa would never understand her situation or the pain her brother had to go through because he was born her brother. How does a kid who is wonderful and beautiful but average by most standards live in a home where a two-year-old paints like Monet the first time she picks up a brush?
How is he supposed to shine when the world only cares about her, Sosie, the girl who everyone thinks is the reincarnation of one of the greats?
“Stop blaming yourself for the failures of your parents. They had two children. Hell, I have three, and all of them are different. I’ve got a nurse, an architect, and a fast-food cashier. I don’t love one more than the other. I may love them individually, but that’s because none of them are the same. Each one brings something unique to the world and to my life.”
“My mother wasn’t a failure. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Your parents should be the ones driving you to Aspen Cove to pick up your stuff, not me.”
Sosie shrugged. “Mom’s in Europe, and I haven’t seen Dad in years.” She touched her finger to her chin, thinking about the last time she’d heard from her father. “I got a card from Dad for my birthday. The postmark was from Jamaica.”
“That’s my point. They should be here. After your accident, they were nowhere to be found.”
Sosie wanted to roll her eyes, but somehow it seemed ridiculous. “Lyme disease is not an accident.”
“It’s an undesirable and unfortunate happening, and by that definition, it’s an accident.”
A loud grumble filled the SUV, and Sosie gripped her stomach.
“Didn’t you eat?” Theresa asked.
A low growl vibrated from her throat. “I’m lucky I got dressed. By the way, you didn’t even comment on my outfit.” She pulled her phone from her bag. “Did you know they have an app that helps with that?”
“They have one for everything these days. Even my watch tells me when to breathe as if my body won’t know that on its own.” Theresa sighed. “At least you match.”
“I figured as long as I wear black or blue on the bottom, everything else works on top.”
“For a woman whose life is all about color, you’re the worst at picking out clothes. Ever hear of the color wheel?”
“I address color differently. For me, it comes from a more intuitive perspective.” Her stomach rumbled again. “If I don’t get something to eat right away, I’ll turn a horrid shade of green and be sick. Then your SUV won’t smell like lemons and leather.”
“I thought we’d eat at that diner you’re always talking about.”
“Maisey’s Diner is great, but I won’t make it that far. I need something to tide me over.”
“Girl, you are such a mess.”
Sosie hung her head. “I know.”
Not too far down, Theresa pulled off the road, and they coasted to a stop.
“A gas station is the best I can do. What do you want?”
Sosie reached down and felt around for her purse. “Anything with sugar will work.” She rummaged inside her bag for her wallet, but Theresa lost her patience and exited the car before Sosie could offer her money.
She realized she was walking a tightrope with her agent. They were friendly, but never friends. She had invested little time cultivating long-term relationships because she spent most of her life in front of a canvas. Even growing up, she didn’t get out much unless her mother forced a trip on her. Yes, April Grant tried to bring balance into a life where there was none, but Sosie was a recluse and stayed in most days. School events an
d socials didn’t interest her. Weekends weren’t filled with movie theater popcorn or county fair cotton candy; instead, the scent of paints and linseed oil covered her like a comforting cloak since she could walk.
The driver’s side door opened, and Theresa thrust a banana into her hand.
“Natural sugar is better for you.”
“Now you’re my mom?”
“If I was your mom, you wouldn’t be in the pickle you’re in.”
Every once in a while, Theresa’s sixty-odd years showed in her vernacular. “No one says pickle these days.” Sosie peeled the banana and took a bite. “Maybe jam. I wouldn’t be in the jam I’m in if you were my mother.”
Theresa gunned the engine, kicking up gravel in her wake. “If I were your mother, I would have put money aside for you instead of gallivanting across the world.”
Sosie took the last bite of banana and rolled the peel into a cylinder. Before she could shove it in the cup holder, Theresa took it from her hand and rolled down her window.
“You didn’t just toss that outside, did you?”
“It’s biodegradable. Now back to your mom.”
“My mother took me places to broaden my horizons—to show me perspective. It helped my art.” It also helped her mind. Her mother understood the pressures of the art world and made sure she had well-timed respites. Sadly, during a trip, her father found another woman and created a new family. Somewhere deep inside, Sosie took the blame for that. It was why she was hell-bent on making sure her mother had a good life now.
“Oh, stop defending her. She took you places so she could travel on your dime. You paid for every one of those trips with the sale of each painting.” Theresa’s voice grew more forceful with every word. “Do you think she bought a villa in Tuscany for your benefit? No, she used your earnings to finance it, but who’s living there free and clear while you’re struggling to make ends meet?”
Sosie scrubbed at her face. “That villa saved my mother’s life. She had nothing when my father left her—nothing.”
“At least she has a life. If you had nourished your soul as much as your art, you might not be alone. There might be a husband here to help you.”
“A husband ... really?” She turned to face Theresa. It was funny that she’d suggest Sosie take time for love when she kept pushing her for art. It didn’t matter much because she saw firsthand what love could do. “The last thing I need is a husband to remind me I have no value but my skill as an artist. Besides, I have you for that. Love isn’t for me.”
“Don’t mix me in with the lot. It’s your mother, brother, and father who reminds you that your only value is your art and what money you earn from it to help them. Love is out there Sosie, you just need to be open to it.”
“Come on, that’s not true, especially now. Besides, who would want to tackle this.” She said waving her hand up and down in front of herself. “As for my parents, they haven’t taken a cent from me since I turned eighteen. It’s been a dozen years. Let it go.”
“When you turned eighteen, they walked away. Why is that?”
“I was an adult.” The sun shining through the window warmed her skin, filling her with memories of her childhood home in Estes Park, and the days she spent painting in the sunroom next to her mother, who never asked her for anything. Yes, her art kept a roof over their heads and food in their bellies, but that was because their father failed to provide for his family. He was the one with his palm out, making sure that his contribution to the DNA pool was compensated for.
“No, it’s because you were no longer the cute prodigy. You blended into the woodwork and didn’t stand out. A toddler artist is a rare find, but now, you’re simply not as special. You were a lame horse that they couldn’t ride any longer.”
Tears streamed down Sosie’s cheeks. She hated to cry because it was a waste of time. Not once in the last six months had it helped when she wept, so why bother now? “Why are you so mean?”
“I’m not being mean, I’m being honest. It’s something you’ll need to be as well. Your life is not the same, and it won’t ever be the same, so you better prepare for it.”
She didn’t want Theresa to see how much her words hurt, so she shifted to face the window. Nothing but silence filled the car for the rest of the trip. Closing her eyes, she prayed for this day to be over because cleaning out her studio was like saying goodbye to an old friend.
She wished she could have tackled the situation on her own, but she needed help. There wasn’t much she could do autonomously. Who knew how much a tiny tick bite could change a life?
“We’re here.” Theresa drove the SUV into a parking spot, killed the engine, and climbed out.
Sosie grabbed her purse and opened the door. Immediately, the scent of bacon and maple syrup wafted past her. It was the smell of happiness and brought back memories of a time when things were easier, and life was worth living.
She swung her legs out the door and rose to her feet. On the first step forward, she rolled her ankle, where the sidewalk had sunk from the curb. She fell hard on her hip and sat in stunned silence.
“Let me help you.” Theresa lifted Sosie’s purse to her shoulder and pulled her up. She closed the SUV door and led her into the diner.
“Are you okay?” Theresa brushed away whatever was on the leg of her pants and helped her into the booth before taking the seat across from her. “Did you hurt anything?”
“My pride.”
“Well, you’ve got plenty more of that stored up, even if you have little else.”
The smell of Maisey’s signature perfume hit her before the woman arrived. It was a strong honeysuckle scent that mixed nicely with the sweetness of the maple syrup surrounding her.
“Well, if it isn’t Miss Sosie Grant.”
Sosie turned her head up. “Hey, Maisey.” She never drew attention to the changes in her since the “accident” as Theresa called it. She found if she acted normal, people rarely noticed.
“Where have you been?” Maisey asked.
Where did she begin? The story was far too long to recite. “I’ve been busy in Denver.”
“Too busy to come up and say hello?”
She hung her head. “I apologize. My life has been a whirlwind the last few months.”
Theresa slapped her hand on the table, rattling the silverware. “She’s—”
“Starving.” Sosie broke in. “I’d die for a cola and one of Ben’s famous burgers.”
“Make that two,” said Theresa.
“Coming right up.” Maisey’s shoes squeaked on the floor as she walked away.
“Why are you lying to her?”
“I’m not lying to anyone.” She bristled with indignation.
“Not true, you’re lying to yourself. People need to know what happened.”
She shook her head. “No one needs to know my business. It’s my business.” She hoped her raised voice didn’t draw attention, so she leaned into the center of the table. “Just let me have this moment where my life seems normal. I’m only asking for a minute. Can’t you give me that?”
“Your life will never be normal again.”
“So, you keep reminding me.”
“Here you go.” Maisey set the cola on the table with a clunk. “Your burgers will be ready in a few. I’ll be back in a minute to chat. I want to know what you’ve been up to.”
“Will you tell her you’ve spent a great deal of time in the hospital and at a facility in San Francisco? What about the fact that you no longer paint, but sit in a dark room sipping tea and crying?”
“Will you shut the hell up? This is my life, and I’ll handle it.”
“That’s the problem. You’re not handling it. You’re waiting for a miracle, and the world is fresh out of them. There are no answers for you.”
“I’m not giving up.”
“You gave up the day you got your diagnosis.”
Everything burned, including her eyes. Her skin heated from the anger boiling inside her veins. Life
was so damn unfair, and she didn’t need Theresa making it worse. “Why are you here?”
“Because you’ve got no one else, and you need me.”
The truth of that statement hollowed her out, but she refused to play the victim. “No, you need me. You need the last of my work so you can sell it and get your commission. You don’t care about me, which makes you no different from my father. My value to you is nothing beyond the money you earn from my work. You’re here because if I don’t deliver the Albright project, or the paintings for the gallery exhibit, your reputation will suffer.”
“I won’t lie to you and tell you that’s not true, but only partially so. I’m here because if someone doesn’t help you out, you have no hope for a life.”
Feeling like the girl from Firestarter, Sosie closed her eyes and willed her temper back. Back off. Back off. She reached for her soda in hopes of a cool down but misjudged the distance and sent the glass toppling over. Cola splashed everywhere, running off the edge of the Formica top and onto her lap. She jolted up from the icy cold hit and scrambled from the booth, running into the table beside her. Her hand came down for balance, but she hit a plate, sending its contents into the air. Splats of food dotted her face.
“Holy hell,” a man’s voice shouted. “Watch what you’re doing.”
“I can’t, asshole. I’m blind.”
Chapter Two
Baxter stared up at the woman with hauntingly beautiful blue eyes. Eyes that seemed to look into his soul and yet couldn’t see a thing.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” A blob of mashed potatoes unstuck itself from his T-shirt and rolled down to sit in his lap. He ignored the mess and examined her. “Are you okay? I mean, outside of losing your balance, did you hurt yourself?”
One Hundred Glances (An Aspen Cove Small Town Romance Book 14) Page 1