“Oh, I see, you think it’s my fault she left.” Was it? Of course it must have been. “All right, then, I guess there is only one thing left to do. If it’s something I’ve done, then there must be a way to undo it. We need to figure out exactly what action I have to take to get her back.”
Chapter Seven
Maxi fiddled nervously with her coffee cup and studied the man across the table from her, Chandler Vanbeck. They were sitting in the Townline Diner, a retro-style eatery that was decorated with a lot chrome and Naugahyde. They made good coffee, and it seemed like a neutral place to meet, which was why Maxi had suggested it.
Chandler had just finished updating her on the renovation efforts in the building on the edge of Perkins Cove that he’d secured for his art gallery.
“I know it’s an aggressive schedule, but I want to have the gallery open by Thursday, and I’d love to feature some of your work,” Chandler said.
Maxi was taken aback. Chandler seemed like a nice guy. And he certainly seemed interested in her work, if not maybe a littletoointerested. Maxi wondered vaguely if he was interested in more than just her work. The thought was awkward and unappealing. She had no intention of having a relationship with anyone. The mere thought of it made her feel resistant and sad because deep down, she still loved James.
“But I’ve never shown my work anywhere. I haven’t even finished a proper painting in decades.” Maxi thought about the seascape she’d started the other day. It was sitting on the easel at her cottage, the paint still wet.
“It’s fine,” Chandler assured her. “I like to highlight emerging local artists, and no one expects them to have a following.”
“I’m hardly emerging.”
“You could be if you put some work in the show. Just three pieces.”
Maxi sipped her coffee and contemplated Chandler’s offer. Could she even get three pieces done by then? But she sensed that this was a once-in-a-lifetime chance. If she passed it up now, she might not get an offer again. “Okay, I’ll do it.”
“Wonderful!” Chandler stuck his hand across the table, and Maxi shook it. “I’ll need the paintings by Wednesday afternoon. Will that work?”
A wave of panic struck Maxi, but she managed to nod. “Yes, that will be fine.”
“Chandler! I thought I might find you here.” A woman who Maxi judged to be in her early seventies stood at the end of their table. She had close-cropped white hair and bright-red-framed glasses, and was wearing a colorful flowing skirt and dozens of bangles. She looked artsy and airy and like everything Maxi was hoping to become. She smiled at Maxi and stuck her hand out. “Hi. I’m Muriel Fox.”
Maxi shook her hand, feeling suddenly out of place in her crisp white blouse and tan Bermuda shorts. “Maxi Stevens.”
“Nice to meet ya, Maxi.” The woman turned to Chandler. “Are you going to be at the Purple Blueberry later on? Gerry is going to recite some of his poetry.”
Chandler smiled. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Okay, see you then.” She smiled at Maxi then turned and walked back to the counter, where a cup of coffee and piece of pie awaited.
“Have you been to the Purple Blueberry?” Chandler asked.
“I’ve heard of it, never been.” The Purple Blueberry was a trendy little outdoor bar where the more artsy crowd hung out. Maxi had always been curious but never brave enough to go. James thought anything artsy was too “Bohemian” for someone like a bank president—or his wife—to be seen at. She was sure Claire or Jane would have gone with her, but she’d never considered asking them because she didn’t want James to be mad. She didn’t have to worry about what he would think anymore, but that was bittersweet.
“If you’d like to go this afternoon, I’ll be going around five,” Chandler said.
Warning bells surfaced. Was that just a friendly invitation or a date? Either way, best for Maxi not to encourage too much friendship from Chandler. She didn’t want to send the wrong message.
“Thanks, but I can’t. I have plans with Jane and Claire.” At least she didn’t have to lie. They were meeting at Splash at five.
Maxi couldn’t wait to meet Jane and Claire and tell them the exciting news about the art gallery. As she sipped her coffee, a smile spread across her face. She was finally on her way to having everything she always wanted. Well, everything except James.
Chapter Eight
“So you haven’t gone back home?” Jane asked as the waitress slid pink frothy drinks with pineapple slices perched on the rims in front of them. They were seated at Splash, one of their favorite gathering spots. It was a bar right on the beach and had all the sights, sounds, and smells of the ocean. The beachgoers had packed up their things and left, but the coconut scent of suntan lotion still lingered in the air. They could hear the lulling sound of the waves, and the colorful blues and pinks of the sun setting behind them completed the picture.
“No chance of that.” Maxi actually hadn’t even considered it. Sure, she felt a little homesick, and when she thought about James, her heart felt like it was broken into a million pieces, but she was determined to focus on the positive.
She loved having her own place and loved the beach, and Rembrandt was turning out to be a great addition to her life. Since moving to the cottage, she’d spent most of her time painting and had enjoyed every minute of it. Why hadn’t she done this sooner? Not leaving James—she never would have done that if it hadn’t been for the cheating—but getting a space of her own to pursue her creative endeavors was something she should have done years ago.
“Are you sure?” Claire picked a sweet potato fry out of the basket and dipped it in the horseradish sauce. “You and James have been together for a long time. Maybe you’re just having a rough patch.”
Maxi sighed and reached into her tote bag for the card. She knew she’d have to tell Claire and Jane sooner or later, but something felt wrong about the situation. It almost felt as ifshewere betraying James and not the other way around.
