“Oh, I almost forgot why you came by. Let me get up,” Sheila said while shooing us off the bed. After slipping out of bed, she padded off and opened a closet.
“Here!” She pulled out the matching painting to the one at the bakery, and my mouth watered.
My mom had touched this, painted this, and it was mine. It was the only thing I owned connecting me to my mom.
“I love it! You have no idea how happy this makes me.” My hands trembled slightly when I took ownership of it.
“Enjoy it,” Sheila said.
“Now you have to let me help at the bakery,” I told Bev. “I can’t just accept this and not pay you back in some way.”
“You don’t play fair,” she grumbled at me, still smiling.
Bev was all bark and no bite like my dad, which reminded me. He didn’t deserve my cold shoulder anymore.
I had to call Dad. Holding this painting made me ache for him in a way I never had before. He’d be furious I was here, clinging to the damn painting like it held meaning, but he’d still be happy for me. At least, I hoped he would.
My mom didn’t deserve my respect. Dad did.
Yet, here I was, still searching for clues, for anything to bring me closer to her.
Holding back my emotions, I chatted more with Bev and Sheila, but all I could think about was getting this painting home and hanging it on the wall where I could look at it every day.
Price
It’s Sunday. You need a day off, and I need to run a few errands with you.
I texted Emerson super early Sunday morning, before my run. Most likely, she was still sleeping, so I didn’t wait for her to answer.
Wearing my earbuds, I took to the pavement, winding my way toward the high line. The main streets were quiet, traffic at a minimum, and I could find my way there with little problem. Once I hit it, I ran all the way to the end and back up again.
My mind needed the exercise as much as my body. I’d been working overtime with studying, trying to make myself be upset over Moira, and counting the minutes until I saw Em.
My phone dinged as I huffed my way down my block.
I am off. I was going to sleep the day away.
Pick you up in 90.
You mean Johnny will pick me up.
Don’t be such a know-it-all. I meant me.
Quickly, I hit the shower, changed into jeans, boots, and a ratty white T-shirt. I didn’t need to be dressed up for where we were going. After stopping to consult with Rudy for a few minutes, I found myself unlocking the Tesla for only the second time since moving to the city. It was a far cry from my pickup truck. I felt like I was in a video game, not a damn car.
Following the GPS, I headed toward Emerson’s place. For shock value, I didn’t go up to the door, but rather texted her that I was here while double-parked outside.
As Emerson came out the door, she said, “What the ...”
Leaving the car in park, I slipped around the front and opened the door for her. “Let’s roll.”
“We’re not going to the Hamptons, are we? I have to work tomorrow.”
“I wish, but no. I have too much studying to do, no can do.”
She looked perfect in white jean cutoffs, her long legs stretched out on the floorboards, and a red tank top. Her hair was down, hiding her profile from me, but I guessed she was smiling.
“We are going somewhere fun, though,” I told her. Angling the GPS toward me, I entered a new destination, and off we went.
