Page 33 of The Lightkeeper

I couldn’t bring myself to do anything but stare, waiting for her question.

“Is that… okay?”

“With me?” I grit my teeth. “Not my house or my invitation. I keep a lighthouse… not my family’s social calendar.”

I shoved my hands into my pockets, my round artwork carrier tucked firmly under my arm, and jogged across Maine Street to the rich gold door that stood out from the navy facade:The Kinkade Gallery.

If it were up to me, I would’ve picked a place that stood out a little less—the blue and gold giving off an austere and elegant front that stood out from the rest of the buildings on the street. But Lou had been dead set on this one: perfect location, perfect size, perfect vibe—or so she claimed. So, I caved; I was already letting them down in so many ways, there was no reason to add something like this to the list. Plus, Lou was at the gallery more than I was, it should be her choice. I just supplied the art, nothing more—and definitely not a gallery show.

Another bitter scoff burst from my lungs.Not a chance in hell.I didn’t do people. Or shows. I made art. Not even because I needed the money, but because I needed the escape.

I pulled out my keys, just fitting them into the lock when the door opened from the inside.

“Lou.” I stared at my sister.

“Hey.” She beamed. “I didn’t know you were stopping by today.”She stepped back and let me in. I wasn’t even through the doorway before she grabbed for my carrier. “Please tell me this is what I think it is.”

“Lou—” I tried to stop her, but there were times when she was as damn determined as Frankie. And she had the cap pried off, my drawings in her hands before I even had a chance.

“You did these?” She glanced at me and then went back to examining the drawings.

“Yeah.” I pulled off my hand and speared my fingers through my hair. “I don’t know if I want to exhibit them. They were just… an experiment.”Like that goddamn kiss.

“They are…” Different. Not ideal for showing. Not consistent with my brand. “Perfect.”

I jerked. I couldn’t have heard her right. “What?”

“These are gorgeous and perfect, Kit.” She couldn’t seem to stop looking between them. “Don’t get me wrong, your seascapes are beautiful and so popular, but this… the clean lines. The monochrome, black-and-white outline… it’s simple and minimalistic and totally where the market is at right now.”

“Is that so?”

She pursed her lips. “I do my research.”

Of course, she did.Lou dotted all her i’s and crossed her t’s. Frankie, on the other hand… Frankie flew by the seat of her pants. Hell, sometimes Frankie flew by the seat of someone else’s pants without them even knowing.

“So, you think?—”

“Oh, these are going in the front window, for sure.” She beamed. “I have to ask though… what are they? Well, this one is obviously a sea star.”

I reached for the other drawing and quickly covered up the sea star. Apparently, the name was ruined for me, too.

“Some kind of sea snail.” Telling her it was abushy-backed nudibranchwould definitely draw way too many questions I was unwilling to answer.

“It’s so… intricate,” she said softly, staring for another second before she looked at me, and I tensed. “What made you decide to draw them? They’re so different from your usual.”

Didn’t I fucking know it.But I wasn’t about to confess to my little sister that the woman she’d befriended was the reason for the change.

Aurora was different. She’d made the lighthouse different. My routine different. My art different.God help me, if I wasn’t careful, that damn woman would make everything so different that my life wouldnever be the same.

“Got stuck with painting, so I decided to try something else,” I said and turned away, my eyes glazing over the other paintings that hung on the light gray walls.

Storm after storm after storm.I didn’t know the last time I’d looked around the gallery when I was here. Usually I was in and out. But damn, there wasn’t a calm sea in sight. In fact, the only calm painting I could recall doing was the Christmas one that Lou said had been bid to an insane price.

“Well, I think they’re going to be great.” She beamed for a second. “Hopefully, they will be. For the both of us.”

I angled my head toward her. “News on the inn?”

She bit her lip, always trying to moderate her excitement—her emotions in general. I think it came from living a life next to a twin who didn’t moderate anything; Lou felt like she was Frankie’s compensation.

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