Mia Found (Starting Fires Book 3)

by Makenzie Smith

  “Nearly midnight. I’m sorry. I just made it home and wanted to talk to you.”

  “Midnight? Geez,” he said, yawning then clearing his throat. “What’s up? Anything happen tonight?”

  “Nothing really. But…are you still mad at me?”

  He sighed. “No, baby. I’m not mad. You have a life too. I can’t expect you to drop everything for my schedule. Do what you need to. We’ll get another chance.”

  “Are you still taking those vacation days?”

  “Yeah. I think I need some time away from the office. It’s starting to take its toll. I’m gonna get some good sleep. Watch TV. I don’t know maybe go down to the beach.”

  It sounded wonderful and I found myself smiling, knowing that I would be beside him when he did all those things. “All right. I’ll let you go.”

  “Bye, Pretty.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  THE FLIGHT TO SEACREST was expensive, for me at least. But the view alone was worth it. Driving down the roads told me how beautiful my days would be if I landed this job. The beach was only a few miles from the museum. The weather was always warm and breezy. The little shops all displayed nautical, beach themes. Even the air smelled better. Like salt and wind.

  I stepped out of my car and took a deep breath. The art museum was in the heart of the town and I sighed at how quaint it seemed. It would be perfect for me. Not too large to be intimidating. Not too small to be boring. It fit right in the middle and with a smile I walked in.

  A tall man in a brown suit met me at the door. “Mia?” he smiled.

  “Yes, sir. You must be Gregory.”

  We shook hands and he led me over to his office. It was small and had papers lining nearly every surface. He pushed some out of the way as he sat opposite me at his desk. “Thank you for meeting with us. Your Uncle is a very valued contributor.”

  “Oh, no. Thank you for agreeing to do the interview. When he told me about it, I nearly fell out of my chair. It would be a dream to work here.”

  His tight-lipped smile didn’t reach his eyes and I made a mental note to cut the butt kissing.

  “What sort of experience do you have?” he asked.

  None. But how could I say that? I took a breath, and tried to be as honest as I could without sounding unexperienced—even though I was.

  “I graduated this year and excelled in all of my Art History courses. I’m also a painter myself and have been selling works on commission. Currently, I’m a designer at a local establishment in my hometown, helping them revamp their image. It’s not exactly what I pictured doing with my degree, but there aren’t many options there. Regardless of what happens, I’m definitely looking for a change of scenery. Something to make me feel challenged and proud.”

  “That’s very admirable,” Gregory said, looking down at the papers in his hand. “The plan would be to bring on an intern to learn and grow under Maxwell, the current director. When the time is right, that intern would be replacing him. All would transpire with his approval. Maxwell is valued. I hate to say it, but if he doesn’t like you, this won’t be an option. I’ll admit that the pay isn’t great and it will be complete hell working for him.”

  “Oh.”

  Gregory nodded. “He’s an ornery old man, set in his ways, but also wise. A young graduate like you could learn a great deal from him.”

  “Do I get to meet him today?”

  Gregory shifted his head to the side. “That’s unlikely. I’m doing the preliminary interviews and bringing in the best for him to consider.”

  “All right,” I said.

  Gregory didn’t like me. It was obvious. His posture was stiff and intimidating. He assessed me with scrutiny and I had the impression that he felt I was too young and inexperienced for this.

  “Let me show you around,” he said.

  Gregory stood and I followed him around the small museum. While he gave me the tour, he questioned me on my areas of interest, even quizzing me on my knowledge as we walked. “What do you think of this one, Mia?” Or “This was an interesting period, wouldn’t you say?”

  My knowledge was good, but we both knew I had much to learn and I stumbled through a few explanations. His patronizing smile did little for my confidence and the more we walked, the more my palms began to sweat. This dream was ending before it even began.

  At the last room, his phone rang and he excused himself to take the call. Once I knew he was out of earshot I muttered, “Idiot,” under my breath. This job was perfect and I was ruining it.

  I couldn’t stand in the dark gallery any longer and stepped into the hallway. The light was brighter here and I took a breath as I stared out the window.

  The sun was nearly set and I couldn’t wait to see Paul. If this had been a bust, he’d make it better. He’d soothe all my self-doubt and remind me how talented I was—that I had a future with or without this.

  “Shit,” someone muttered, catching my attention. “Utter shit.”

  I peered around the wall and saw an office with the door open. From my angle, I could see a pair of old hands working on the desk, picking up and discarding prints.

  My feet moved before I could stop them and within seconds, I was standing in his doorway. The man had white hair mixed with gray and black. His maroon sweater reminded me of Mr. Rogers and I smiled. The office was modest, but cleaner than Gregory’s. Not a piece of paper was out of place. My eyes scanned, searching for a name plaque, but came up empty. He was analyzing a print of Spring Frost, one of my favorite paintings from the Australian artist, Elioth Gruner.

  “That’s one of Gruner’s best,” I said. “The farmer is my favorite. His ability to paint life always astounded me.”

  “A Gruner lover, eh?” he said, not even bothering to look up.

  “Yes–”

  Faster than I thought possible, he stood from his chair. “Well, Gruner is shit.”

  I didn’t control the contortion of my face and he dared me to refute him.

  “Excuse me,” I said, “But Elioth Gruner is not… he’s not...sh...shi...” It was ridiculous that I couldn’t even say the word now. I wasn’t really even the one saying it. I was just quoting this mean, old man. “Well, he’s certainly an artist to be admired.”

  He cackled, but not in a way that made me feel like I should join him. Still grinning, he walked around his desk, grabbing a cane. “Follow me, Miss Barns.”

  I narrowed my eyes at his retreating back. Barns? He did that on purpose.

  “Are you Maxwell?” I asked following him back into the gallery I’d just left.

  His only answer was single, loud clack of his cane.

  Ornery, old man? Set in his ways? This was Maxwell, all right.

  He brought me back through the modest, but well-loved rooms, not giving me a chance to speak or offer input. Anytime I paused to analyze a painting or sculpture, he hurried me on with another clack of his wooden cane.

  Many of the rooms he brought me to, Gregory hadn’t and by the time we made it back to Maxwell’s office, I was completely turned around. He fell back in his chair with a thump and clacked his cane to indicate that he wanted me to sit, though the sound lost its intimidation on the carpet.

  “Fresh out of school, I’d wager,” he said as I claimed the only chair in his office. “Have big dreams of running your own museum. Looking to get something nice on your resume so you can move on to bigger and better things.”

  I took a calming breath, knowing that I’d ruined this chance. “I graduated in May. And truth be told, I don’t know what I want to do or where I want to go. All I know is that art is my life. I love it. I live it. I breathe it. I’m not happy if my hands aren’t involved in it some way.”

  “You’re from Louisiana,” he said. “Why would you even want to be here? What’s Seacrest to you?”

  I looked down to my lap and studied my fingernails. Knowing that I’d already squandered this brought me courage, and I answered him honestly.

  “It’s nothing to me,” I
said. “I don’t know anything about your town. I don’t hold any pride for it. The truth is I want this job because the man I love lives forty minutes away. I want this job so I don’t have to love him through a phone. But I could also love your town. There’s beauty here. There’s peace. I don’t know if that’s enough for you. I hope it is, but if it isn’t...” I shrugged, slapping my hands on my thighs. “I don’t know. I guess I’ll figure it out.”

  Maxwell was silent, studying me intently from behind his desk. “Thanks for coming Miss Burns. Gregory will see you out,” he said in dismissal.

  With tears brimming my eyes, I did as he said, finding Gregory at the front entrance still on his phone.

  He held a finger up when he saw me, and I waited for him to finish his call. For whole minutes he made me wait, giving me a patronizing smile when done. “We have several more interviews to conduct, but you’ll hear from us.” He opened the door and I left with a giant hole in my heart.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  I LET MYSELF CRY on the journey to Paul’s. It’s okay, I told myself as I wiped the back of my hand across my eye. This wasn’t meant to be, but something would turn up. It had to. I’d been graduated for nearly five months. Sooner or later a decent job had to present itself.

  It was Friday and close to 6 p.m. Seacrest wasn’t far from Paul, and when I turned down his street my heart danced in my chest, but the excitement quickly fizzled out. My grand idea of surprising him fell flat. Five cars were sitting in his driveway. I parked on the street and walked towards his house, feeling out of place and uncomfortable. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.

  Before I made it to his front door, voices carried over from the backyard. The gate was pushed open and I took a breath as I walked towards it. For only a moment, I eavesdropped but couldn’t make out what was being said. Over the chorus of voices, Paul’s carried. He sounded happy and light-hearted. Was I imposing?

  Feeling insecure, I swallowed a knot in my throat and pushed the gate open. My feet moved slowly across the grass until his gazebo was in view. Paul was sitting on the bench, Liza beside him. Together they drank from the wine glasses she’d bought him as a housewarming gift. Her smile was full and genuine. His was hidden behind the rim of his glass. They weren’t touching, but only a little inch separated them.

  My head bowed. This was what his life was like without me. Friends were walking in and out of the house, calling his name, making jokes. I had no place here.

  A shattering of glass broke my negative thoughts and I looked up to see Paul rushing off the gazebo. His smile stretched wide, his eyes shining.

  “Mia?” Before I had time to say a word, he was on me, lifting me into the air. “You little liar,” Paul laughed. His strong arms hugged me as tight as they could before setting me on the ground. Then his hands were all over me, cradling my head, rubbing my back, squeezing my arms. “What are you doing here?” he asked, pulling back to look at me.

  “I’m sorry. I was trying to surprise you. I didn’t think about you having company.”

  Paul smiled, grinning from ear to ear. “Don’t be sorry. This is the best thing that could have happened tonight.” His fingers came to my neck, giving it a gentle caress. “How are you more beautiful than the last time I saw you?”

  My cheeks heated and my smile rose then fell as my emotions came to the surface. “I miss you,” I said, falling into him and hugging him around the waist. My head buried in his chest and I took a great inhale. “Everything is awful without you and I’m miserable.”

  His hands came to the base of my head and I sighed when his lips touched my hair. “I miss you, too,” he whispered. “How long do I have you?”

  “Nearly a week.”

  His chuckled warmed me. “You knew you were going to do this didn’t you? When you told me not to visit?”

  I nodded.

  “You’re a sneak,” he said, lifting me into the air and wrapping my legs around his waist. “Do you know how upset I was?”

  His smile was good-natured so I didn’t feel too guilty. “It happened fast. I had to be close by for something.”

  “For what?”

  “A job interview,” I whispered and his eyes lit up. I shook my head. “It didn’t go well.”

  “Have faith, Pretty. Some of the worst interviews I ever had ended up landing jobs.”

  With those simple words, I instantly felt better. My hands cradled his jaw and our lips finally met in a soft, sweet kiss. I pulled away and nuzzled his nose with mine.

  “Who’s this?” someone said and I tensed. Seeing and touching Paul had made everything else fade away and I’d completely forgotten we had an audience.

  Paul placed me back on the ground, and put an arm around my waist. “This is Mia,” he said.

  “Oh, yeah,” the guy said, offering his hand. “I’m Garrett. Paul and I work together. He’s told me so much about you.”

  Smiling, I shook his hand, but wished Paul would have told me more about him. I felt at a disadvantage.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Liza picking up the broken glass and seeing it brought me more glee than it should have. The scowl on her face brought me more.

  Paul paraded me around his house, introducing me to everyone he knew and I realized that my fears were unfounded. I might not know these people, but they knew me. I had a place.

  I’ve seen your picture on his desk.

  Paul tells me you’re an artist!

  So this is the Mia I’ve heard so much about!

  When Ferdinand saw me, he barreled into my legs. “You’re still huge!” I said, giving him a big hug. “I missed you boy.” Ferdinand still didn’t realize he was a large dog and kept trying to jump up to get my attention. “I see you. I see you,” I said, laughing.

  “I play him videos of you sometimes,” Paul said. “He misses your voice.”

  My head jerked back. “What videos?”

  Paul looked embarrassed. “Oh, you know…videos.”

  I furrowed my brow, not remembering ever making videos with him.

  “The, uh, the last week I lived there, I might have recorded you without your knowledge.”

  I smacked his arm. “Doing what?”

  “Ouch.” Paul laughed, rubbing the spot I’d hit. “I don’t know. You’re on the phone with your mother in one. In another you’re sitting on my couch talking to Ferdinand. And maybe one of you singing to yourself in the kitchen.”

  “That is so embarrassing.”

  “Oh, please,” he said. “I watch them when I miss you. So be mad if you want, but I’m glad I did it.”

  I fell deeper in love with him in that moment. Even though we were apart, I was in his life. One of my paintings hung on his wall and there was a big 8x10 of us sitting on his nightstand. He even watched videos of me when he missed me.

  “I love you,” I whispered, pulling on his shirt and dragging him to me.

  “I love you, too,” he said.

  A few hours later, everyone began leaving. Liza, who had avoided me all night, approached to say goodbye.

  “Glad you could make it, Mia. Hope you have fun while you’re here.” She smiled, but I could see the malice in it. “How long are you visiting anyway?”

  “Well, I’ll probably leave next Thursday. I need to get back home for work.”

  “Fun!” she said. Why did it feel like she was being sarcastic?

  Paul was too busy telling someone else goodbye to notice. A sweet smile graced her mouth when she reached him and she stretched onto her tiptoes, giving him a tight hug. “I had fun tonight,” she said. “And don’t worry about the wine glass. I’ll buy us some new ones.” She winked and my fist clenched.

  “Don’t trouble yourself,” Paul said, walking her to the door. “I’ve got plenty of others.”

  “I forgot,” she laughed. “You’re quite the little wino now.”

  “Please.” Paul rolled his eyes, but still smiled and I realized they were friends.

  Liza grinned. “You so
are! But all right, I won’t tell Mia all your secrets. Talk to you tomorrow,” she said and left.

  For once I wished that I cussed. A few colorful names for her came to mind. She wouldn’t tell me any of his secrets? Who did she think she was?

  “What’s with the frown?” Paul asked.

  “She makes me feel about this big,” I said, holding my thumb and forefinger a centimeter apart. “It’s like she’s challenging me or something.”

  Paul laughed. “Challenging you to what?”

  “I don’t know.” I huffed and walked to the kitchen. Needing something to occupy my hands I began loading his dishwasher and realized that he did have a lot of wine glasses. The entire top rack was full. I was staring at them while Paul leaned against the counter opposite me.

  “Something wrong?” he asked.

  “Why do you have so many of them?”

  “Wine glasses?”

  I nodded.

  Paul shrugged and came up behind me, placing his hands on my hips. “Some were gifts,” he said. “Some I bought. There aren’t many yards like mine in this area. It’s big and has the gazebo. People like it. I’ve become this entertainer of sorts.”

  “Oh.” I was happy that he’d made friends, but it made my life seem boring and lonely. Besides, I’d always assumed he didn’t have time for a social life. He certainly hadn’t been spending his time calling me. “I guess–I, um, I guess I didn’t realize you had so much free time. You know…because I hardly ever get to talk to you.”

  “I don’t get a lot, baby,” he said, brushing my hair over my shoulder to kiss my neck. “A night or two a month and you’re usually working. Trust me, I’d much rather be talking to you than entertaining coworkers.”

  “But I don’t work late on the weeknights, and you haven’t been home on the weekends.”

  Paul sighed, placing his forehead against my neck. “It’s only once or twice a month—if even that. What’s this really about?”

  I turned and let his arms come around me. They pulled me in close as I looked into his green eyes. While I thought about it, my fingers toyed with his hair.