Camille knew that to be the case. It would be hard not to think about everything going on. Impossible not to, really.
“I still want to be able to do something for him.”
“I thought the liver transplant wasn’t an option anymore.”
“It’s not. And I’m not thinking anything on that scale, really. But I do know that he’ll have a long road to recovery after his surgery. And I was wondering if there was a way we might be able to help him out in that area.”
Innkeeping had come naturally to Camille, but she wasn’t so sure caretaking fell into the same category. But she wanted to support her husband, and she was willing to hear him out. “What exactly are you thinking?”
“Of offering up one of our rooms for his post-surgery healing. Just for a few days. Nothing too long. But I was thinking it might ease things a bit for him since he’ll be all on his own once he’s back home. It’d be good for him to be close to the hospital in case anything goes wrong.”
Foster took another sip of his drink, cradling it between his two strong hands. “If it’s something you’d be willing to consider, I’d like to be able to extend the offer. And I wouldn’t expect you to do anything. I’ll plan to take some time off from work so I can be around if he needs me.”
Camille could not—and would not—deny her husband this. Sure, it might be uncomfortable to have Jim around, but it wasn’t about her comfort in this situation. It was a huge step toward healing for Foster, and she was so proud that it was one he was willing to take.
“I think it’s a beautiful offer, and a great idea.”
“And you think Skip will be onboard?”
“Skip has made it pretty clear that we’re the ones in the decision-making seat. But either way, I think he’ll like the idea. He may seem a little crusty on the outside, but he’s a doughball on the inside.”
“You’re a good woman, Camille.”
“I’m a mildly paranoid, worry-wart of a woman.”
“You’re those things,andyou’re a good woman. How did I luck out so much that I get the privilege of loving you every day for the rest of my life?”
When he talked like that, it made Camille realize there truly was someone for everyone.
And she was beyond thankful that her someone was the handsome silver fox she’d had a chance encounter with all those months ago at the Villas of Seascape Shores.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
It was clear skies again, thank goodness.
Edie stood at the entrance to the event center as another van pulled into the lot. Three young men and a woman a little younger than she stepped onto the asphalt to make their way around to the back of the vehicle.
It was like opening a gift, each large piece of artwork that emerged more impressive than the last.
“You must be Blanca?” Edie scanned the pages of her clipboard to locate the artist’s name on her sheet of those featured at the gala.
“That would be me.”
“Perfect. You’ll be hanging your piece in slot nineteen. If you need any help, just let one of us in these blue volunteer shirts know and we should be able to assist you.”
The woman hooked a thumb stacked with beautiful sterling silver rings over her shoulder. “Should be fine. It’s why I brought my three sons along with me. Honestly, put them to work if you need them. I promised them community service credit.”
Edie smiled. “I just might take you up on that.”
She stepped aside to allow Blanca and her boys through with the large canvas. There were five more artists scheduled to arrivewith their pieces, and then Edie could really focus her attention on the finishing details for the event.
The tables and chairs had been delivered the day before. The linens yesterday afternoon. And now they just waited on the actual artwork. With the event taking place later that evening, it felt a little last minute, but Cal had assured her it was the best way to do things. Then they didn’t run the risk of damaging any artwork as the tables and chairs were delivered and set up. Plus, he said a few of his artist friends were still putting the finishing touches on their pieces. Creativity didn’t always cooperate with the timeline.
That said, Edie had been ready to hang hers weeks ago, but she supposed that was the difference between photography and painted work. When she captured her shot, that was it. Sure, there was some photo manipulation and editing she could do after the fact, but she rarely adjusted more than the saturation or white balance. Cal had said that was because her pictures were so impressive straight out of the camera that they needed little in the way of post-processing. But she just believed she wasn’t all that skilled when it came to Photoshop or computers. Whatever the reason, it worked for her.
She poked her head into the event space, glimpsing her big canvas on the back wall.
It was her most recent favorite, the one she’d captured of a pod of California Gray whales, their big, finned flukes cresting in unison. Next to it, she’d posted the purchase price of the image, even though she felt a little silly doing so. But it was an artwork auction, intended to raise money for charity. She’d required all of the other artists to do the same. She just hadn’t gotten used to giving her artwork a monetary value. It was something she needed to be better at.
