That’s not a fun story; instead, I’ve got a good question: “Why do you call your grandma by her first name?” It piqued my interest immediately and I’ve been sitting on it long enough.
“She asked us to.” He shrugs and scoops dip onto his bread. “She is a phenomenal woman, but she didn’t like the three of us reminding her she was a grandma. She’s always been about the brand.”
“And her brand was . . .” I put the toast into my mouth and motion with my hand for him to elaborate.
“Being the face of Palm Springs like she’d been her whole life. Anyway, that’s enough from me. What did she mean when she said that about you?” He takes a bite and waits for me to decide how much I’m going to tell him today.
“Do you know what I do for work?” I ask instead.
He shakes his head and grabs his drink, taking a long sip. “You’ve never told me.”
“Well, you haven’t asked.” I tip my head toward him with a smile. “I am an artist.”
“What kind?”
“Acrylics. I’m a painter who was once upon a time on the fast track to . . . I guess you could say world class fame . . . and then my life pivoted. Now I have a business that has partnership accounts with hotel curation packages.”
“That sounds buzz-wordy.”
I don’t say anything and we’re seated so close he leans over and nudges me with his shoulder. “And the fame?”
“Gone.”
He holds the glass up to his mouth and, before taking another drink, says, “That’s something I know about all too well. Do you miss it?”
I wish I were that person that could look him in the eye and say I honestly don’t. Claim there’s more to life than having people know your name and want to talk to you. Find self-satisfaction in anonymity. Being on the other side of things now, I know all of that is fleeting and my life is good. But boy, there are days I miss having that kind of clout. Knowing what I do about Max and his fall, I’m not embarrassed to admit it. “I do miss it. It’s nice to be known for and validated where your talents lie. You know?”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Absolutely.”
Our gazes connect, and the look in his eyes tells me he understands exactly what I mean. We’re sharing a moment here not everybody wouldget.I don’t know if I’ve ever met a man who lived a big life off the beaten path and has watched it all disappear. There is so much I want to tell him and ask him, to find camaraderie in our shared disappointment, but it’s too soon.
We can’t go there, especially after Opal reminded me of the rules Principal Bennett has in place. Plus, there’s still the fact he’s still the guy who made Emma mad and dropped her GPA for a few weeks, which made my life harder. So I change course. I bring up the one thing that’s appropriate for us to have in common: the students of Garnet Charter School. “There’s not a lot of glamour with motherhood and lately I’m not winning in that area of my life too often. Kids are hard.”
“Tell me about it. I don’t know how you do it day in and day out.” He rubs his eyebrow with his thumb, and I’m ready to jump in with a small jab about how he’s not allowed to commiserate with me after only being at it a few months, when he asks, “What is this lunch meeting you’re having with Stella?”
This question shifts the air between us and I don’t like that he’s implying I’m the one doing anything wrong when he doesn’t know the whole story. “Did you ask me to dinner so you could drill me on the conversation you missed between me and your grandma? Because that’s how this is feeling.” I scoot the barstool out and stand. “You know, we could’ve had this conversation in the parking lot and I could be on my couch, in my sweats, watching Netflix and waiting for Emma to get home.”
His hand shoots out and grabs my forearm. “Please stay,”he says quietly, pulling his hand back and rubbing it through his hair. “I wanted to go out—with you. I’m only asking so many questions because you’re new to our world. I’m protective of Stella, and as her power of attorney, I’m asking you kindly to pull me into the loop.”
I sit back down and take a drink, collecting my thoughts. “The way I run my business, Stella has some rights to client-artist confidentiality, but I will say this much:shereached out tomeand asked for a commission. At the time of the email, I didn’t even know who she was or what GoldenDesert LLC was. The email came from Jaqueline?”
“Yes, that’s her assistant.”
I nod my head, remembering. “My assistant, Callie, and I tried to figure out who GoldenDesert LLC was, but Stella’s done a great job keeping herself off the radar.”
Max smirks at this. “She loves looking important like that.”
“I had no idea she was your grandma until we were sitting there today. She asked my full name and she was the one who realized the email connection first.”
“You’re taking her meeting?”
“Yeah, I’m taking her meeting. She’s my Bingo buddy now—it would be rude not to.”
“And let’s say she chooses you? Then what?”
“Then I do the commission.” I say, as if it’s no big deal. Like it’s a favor to an old friend. What I don’t add is the part where I’d looked her up when I excused myself to use the bathroom after the third round of Bingo. Standing in one of the stalls of the guest bathroom, I learned enough from my phone to become keenly aware that painting Stella Hutchings’ portrait could be my way back into the part of the art worldI’ve missed. I could travel in the same circles I used to a decade ago.
“I could persuade her to pick you.” Max is nonchalant as he leans out of the way for the pizza being delivered between us onto the tabletop.
