It was more than a lot. A month ago, she’d been ready to run from Starlight Shores forever. Now Grant was offering her this partnership.
“The Sanders Foundation wants to fund artist residencies? And they specifically requested my involvement?”She stared at him.
“Yeah, my mother is kind of remarkable when she sets her mind to something. She was determined to find a way to expand the teaching side of the gallery. She found the Sanders Foundation.”
“Your mother doesn’t do anything halfway.”
“She’s adopted you. Resistance is futile.”
Emily smiled at that. After years of being rejected over the scandal, having Margaret Stone champion her cause felt like an unexpected gift.
“The foundation was impressed by your work at the festival. And it seems the art world is finally believing your story of what happened with Franklin. It’s about time.” His voice held that protective edge she’d grown to love. “The foundation thinks combining your teaching experience with the gallery space could create something special.”
Special. Everything about the last few weeks had been special in ways that terrified her. The paintings she’d sold. The community that had rallied around her. The way Grant looked at her like she was worth fighting for.
“This would mean staying here in Starlight Shores.” He looked directly at her.
“Yes, it would.” She stood, walked to the window, and watched a pelican dive into the water as the first hints of sunset colored the sky. “I came here to hide. I thought if I just stayed quiet enough, small enough… I don’t know. I thought maybe I could disappear.”
“Emily—”
She held up a hand. “Let me finish.”
He nodded.
“Then I started sketching again. Then painting. Met Winnie and Melissa and even Clint with all his rules.” A laugh bubbled up, surprising her. “I painted that lighthouse like my life depended on it.” She shrugged. “Because maybe it did.”
She walked back to the desk and picked up the paperwork from the foundation. “Teaching workshops. Curating exhibitions. Building something that lasts. With you.”
“We’d be good partners.” Grant moved closer but didn’t touch her. “We already are.”
They were. Somehow, between hanging paintings and adjusting lights and sharing their broken pieces, they’d become a team. But this felt bigger. More permanent. More real.
“What about your current artists? Steven and Dave and a few others made their feelings pretty clear about associating with me.”
“They’ve all asked to come back.”
She reached out and took his hand. “You should let them. We all do… ah… unexpected things when we’re scared.”
“That’s really what you want?”
“Yes.” She squeezed his hand, then changed the subject. “So the teaching space would be in the back?”
“Yes, where we had the festival art. Melissa’s already offered to teach photography workshops. And Winnie has a whole list of artists she thinks would make good residents.”
Of course, Winnie had a list. The woman had probably been planning this since Emily first showed up at her door, scared and convinced she’d never paint again.
She took a deep breath, set down the paperwork, and stepped into his arms. “Okay, yes. Let’s do this.”
He pulled back to look at her. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure I want to try. This town, these people, and you are worth the risk. And I’m tired of running.”
He kissed her then, and Emily let herself believe in second chances, in new beginnings, and partnerships that might actually last.
When he finally stepped back, he smiled at her and took her hand.“I think we should go to the beach. That’s where this all started.”
“I think that’s a great plan.”
