Page 72 of The Me I Left Behind

Then she was gone.

Maggie stared after her for a few seconds. There was more she wanted to say, but she supposed that had to wait.

“Wow,” Chloe said. “That was fast.”

And a little unnerving. “Yeah. Okay, go brush those teeth and tell Jason to get down here. We’re leaving in fifteen minutes.” The entire scene left her a bit unsettled. It wasn’t the first time she’d noticed Carol being jumpy around Logan, and to be totally honest with herself, she didn’t like it.

Too much like Max in our early days.

She didn’t want to think about that.

An hour later, Maggie stepped into the art supply store, list in hand. She was out for glitter, of course, but she’d also made a supply list for herself. Taking a cart, she moved into the store, meandering down the aisles, getting lost in the smells and visual sensations of nearly everything she encountered.

She located glitter. Lots of glitter. So many colors, and she likely overdid her selections in that department. But if Chloe was happy, then that was all she cared about.

She selected a couple of canvases of different sizes for herself, along with a container of gesso and brushes for priming, and a set of acrylic paints. She also needed brushes for painting, brush cleaner, and some pencils for sketching.

Oh, and a palette.

It had been so long since she’d done any of this, she wasn’t sure if the tools or techniques had changed over the years—butshe could always rely on her past knowledge and experience. Right?

She placed her items in the cart and headed toward the back of the store, where she’d noticed a display of easels earlier. She perused the display…Where in the heckismy old easel?Was it in storage, like Max had said years ago?

Wherewasthat storage unit, anyway? Did they still have it?

Suddenly, she didn’t want to buy a new easel. She wantedhereasel. The one with splattered paint and the leg she’d had to hobble together with duct tape. And her own palette—with blobs and layers of paint, bursting with color and probably crackling with age, by now.

She should hold off getting anything new until she located the storage unit, wherever that might be. Maybe she could find some information in Max’s paperwork?

Or she could simply call around town until she found the place where Max had an account.

You really should have been more on top of these kinds of things, Maggie.

“Is there something I can help you find?”

Deep in thought, Maggie swiveled and caught the eye of the man she’d talked to several days ago. There he was again, wearing his artist’s apron and that broad smile. “Oh! Hello.”

“In the market for an easel?”

She glanced at the display. “Perhaps.”

“You looked lost in thought.”

“I was, sort of, thinking about where my old easel was—I think it’s in storage—and that I should probably check there before buying.” She paused, noticing his intent gaze as she spoke. “But that’s probably not what you want to hear.”

He crossed his arms and grinned even wider, if that was possible. “Oh, I don’t know. While I would love it if you boughtan easel from me, I also understand locating the one you already have. I’m sure it’s much loved and appropriately aged.”

“Ha!” That made her smile. “Right. I’m not sure I can even find it. It’s in storage…someplace.”

“Moved a lot?”

She didn’t immediately respond, not wanting to get into specifics about why the easel was missing. “No. Just needed the space in the house. Oh, and by the way, thank you for the suggested list of supplies for the selfie project. I think we bought everything on your list.”

“Except for glitter, I see.”

Maggie looked at her cart and laughed. “Yes. Except for glitter. I received those instructions this morning.”

“Kids.” He leaned in and counted the glitter bottles. “I think ten sparkling colors should cover it, though. Well, done.”

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