Page 24 of The Me I Left Behind (Tuckaway Bay #4)

Thirteen

“All right, Chloe,” Maggie said, staring down at the selfie art project instructions the next morning. “Your project is due on Monday, so we should probably get started today when you get home from school.”

“Goodie!” Chloe mumbled between bites, then looked up at her mother and smiled.

Maggie grinned back and watched her daughter happily gobble up her pancakes—with extra syrup and butter—and sausage. Heaving a sigh, Maggie focused again on the project paper, then glanced at the box of supplies they’d picked up the day before yesterday. “Do you think we have everything we need?”

“Maybe…” Chloe swiped syrup from her chin with a napkin. “We have paint and brushes and the big thing to paint on.”

“The canvas. That’s what it’s called.”

“Canvas. Yeah, I forgot.” Chloe cocked her head. “Did we get glitter?”

Maggie drew in her lower lip. “Glitter?”

Chloe beamed. “Yeah, because I sparkle.”

She had to laugh out loud. Her baby girl was growing in so many ways since Max had stepped out of their lives. She loved her little personality.

“Then I’ll pick up glitter after I drop you and Jason off this morning.” She glanced down the hallway toward Max’s office. “You know, I was thinking… Let’s turn Daddy’s office into our art studio. What do you think?”

“Yay!” Chloe shoved her pancakes away. “You mean I can go in there?”

That panged her heart a little, but she pushed the feeling away. “Yes, you can.” She rounded the island and gave Chloe a hug. “I’ll get some things today to get us started, and we can work on your project in there tonight.”

“Oh, goodie, Mommy.”

Carol rushed into the kitchen. “Oh, my God. I’m late. He is going to kill me.”

Maggie shot a look at her. “Sweetheart. Slow down. Who is going to kill you?”

“Logan.” She sighed.

“Good grief. Get something to eat, please,” Maggie told her. Why is she so agitated?

“I’ll grab a granola bar at school. I don’t want to keep him waiting.”

A horn blasted from the driveway.

“Impatient, isn’t he?”

Carol sighed. “He worked all night, overtime. He gets testy when he’s tired.”

The horn again.

Maggie frowned. “Will you tell him not to do that, please? We have older neighbors who sleep in, you know.”

Carol exhaled. “Okay. It’s just that he’s tired.”

“Well then, he should go home and go to bed, and I’ll take you to school.”

Her daughter’s eyes flashed bigger. “But this is practically the only time I get to see him! He works so much. This week is mandatory overtime.”

“The boy should be in school.”

Carol glared. “He can’t, Mom. You don’t understand.”

Maggie shook her head. “No, I don’t.”

“Sorry. Gotta run.”

Then she was gone.

Maggie stared after her for a few seconds. There was more she wanted to say, but she supposed that had to wait.

“Wow,” Chloe said. “That was fast.”

And a little unnerving . “Yeah. Okay, go brush those teeth and tell Jason to get down here. We’re leaving in fifteen minutes.” The entire scene left her a bit unsettled. It wasn’t the first time she’d noticed Carol being jumpy around Logan, and to be totally honest with herself, she didn’t like it.

Too much like Max in our early days.

She didn’t want to think about that.

An hour later, Maggie stepped into the art supply store, list in hand.

She was out for glitter, of course, but she’d also made a supply list for herself.

Taking a cart, she moved into the store, meandering down the aisles, getting lost in the smells and visual sensations of nearly everything she encountered.

She located glitter. Lots of glitter. So many colors, and she likely overdid her selections in that department. But if Chloe was happy, then that was all she cared about.

She selected a couple of canvases of different sizes for herself, along with a container of gesso and brushes for priming, and a set of acrylic paints. She also needed brushes for painting, brush cleaner, and some pencils for sketching.

Oh, and a palette.

It had been so long since she’d done any of this, she wasn’t sure if the tools or techniques had changed over the years—but she could always rely on her past knowledge and experience. Right?

She placed her items in the cart and headed toward the back of the store, where she’d noticed a display of easels earlier. She perused the display… Where in the heck is my old easel? Was it in storage, like Max had said years ago?

Where was that storage unit, anyway? Did they still have it?

Suddenly, she didn’t want to buy a new easel. She wanted her easel. The one with splattered paint and the leg she’d had to hobble together with duct tape. And her own palette—with blobs and layers of paint, bursting with color and probably crackling with age, by now.

She should hold off getting anything new until she located the storage unit, wherever that might be. Maybe she could find some information in Max’s paperwork?

Or she could simply call around town until she found the place where Max had an account.

You really should have been more on top of these kinds of things, Maggie.

“Is there something I can help you find?”

Deep in thought, Maggie swiveled and caught the eye of the man she’d talked to several days ago. There he was again, wearing his artist’s apron and that broad smile. “Oh! Hello.”

“In the market for an easel?”

She glanced at the display. “Perhaps.”

“You looked lost in thought.”

“I was, sort of, thinking about where my old easel was—I think it’s in storage—and that I should probably check there before buying.” She paused, noticing his intent gaze as she spoke. “But that’s probably not what you want to hear.”

He crossed his arms and grinned even wider, if that was possible. “Oh, I don’t know. While I would love it if you bought an easel from me, I also understand locating the one you already have. I’m sure it’s much loved and appropriately aged.”

“Ha!” That made her smile. “Right. I’m not sure I can even find it. It’s in storage…someplace.”

“Moved a lot?”

She didn’t immediately respond, not wanting to get into specifics about why the easel was missing. “No. Just needed the space in the house. Oh, and by the way, thank you for the suggested list of supplies for the selfie project. I think we bought everything on your list.”

“Except for glitter, I see.”

Maggie looked at her cart and laughed. “Yes. Except for glitter. I received those instructions this morning.”

“Kids.” He leaned in and counted the glitter bottles. “I think ten sparkling colors should cover it, though. Well, done.”

“As Chloe said to me this morning, ‘I sparkle’ so….”

He chuckled at that. “By the way, I’m Andy, in case you’ve forgotten. I own this place.”

The owner? Interesting. “Well, it’s a fine place, Andy. I’m Maggie…in case you’ve forgotten.” She put out her hand and he shook it. The touch was brief, but she noticed the warmth in his palm, and that his hand nearly surrounded hers. How long had it been since a man had actually held her hand?

Don’t go there, Mags.

He glanced over the other items in her cart. “If I recall, you mentioned the other day that you haven’t painted for a while. You know we do classes here.”

She nodded. “You attached a list.”

“Want to join one today? It’s watercolor. I see you are into acrylics, so that might not be your medium, but….”

“I actually don’t know what I’m into these days, but I thought acrylics might be a good place to start. I’m long overdue dusting off my skills…” Maggie glanced up at the big clock on the wall. “But I’m not sure I have time today. Maybe another—”

He touched her arm, and her immediate reaction was to jerk slightly.

Making quick eye contact, he dropped his hand and turned. “I was just going to say come over and take a peek. This way.”

With a sharp exhale, Maggie followed him to the far corner. Her reaction a few seconds earlier, when he touched her elbow, was unnerving. Why had she jerked away like that? It wasn’t a threatening touch. In fact, it was rather friendly.

A quick flashback crossed her mind—a split-second moment of Max grabbing that same arm several months ago. Shit. He’d done a number on her, hadn’t he?

Let it go, Maggie.

In the class area, she saw several women sitting around a large table, painting a watercolor still life.

Andy moved from person to person, looking over their shoulders, and providing quiet guidance.

He looked taller as he paused behind the artists.

Everyone seemed to take his tips and advice to heart, laughing and agreeing with him.

Andy Ryan seemed to have a calm demeanor and relaxed approach to his teaching.

What a nice man.

What might it be like being with an easy-going guy like that?

Forget it, Mags.

He moved to the front of the room, then turned and smiled, catching her eye. Maggie gave him a quick wave, hoping to signal it was time for her to leave. She headed for the checkout counter and placed her items there.

The young woman rang up her purchases. Maggie inserted her credit card into the chip reader.

“I’m sorry, but this is coming up declined.”

Maggie stared, puzzled. “Excuse me?”

“The card has been declined.”

That had never happened to her before. “Declined? I don’t understand.”

“It means you can’t use the card.” The girl sighed.

“Why?”

She rolled her eyes. “Either you’ve hit your limit, haven’t paid your bill, or the card has been canceled.”

“No, no. None of that. Can you try again?” Maggie glanced about. Where was the friendly young woman who helped her and Chloe the other day? This girl appeared annoyed.

“Sure. Remove the card.”

She did.

The girl did her thing.

Maggie inserted and waited again.

“Same. Declined. You have another way to pay?”