Page 148 of Something Like Winter

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convenient. When Eric died—” Tim shook his head. “Part of you dies

along with them. That’s what it feels like.”

“Sorry,” Allison said. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Tim sighed. “It’s okay. I’m not upset at you. I just hate thinking of

what Ben must have gone through—is still going through.” “He’s doing better.” Allison bit her lower lip before continuing.

“These days when you mention Jace, he smiles. I think he’s over the

grieving as much as anyone can be. But he’s lonely. I know he is. All he

does is work.”

Tim could relate.

“He never goes out or talks about meeting anyone.” Allison raised

her eyes. “Except you. Sometimes he still talks about you.” “I’m here,” Tim said without hesitation. “If he needs a shoulder to

cry on, I’m always here.”

“He’s done enough crying for a lifetime,” Allison said. “Do you still

love him? I mean reallyreallylove him.”

Tim didn’t hesitate. “More than anyone in my entire life.” Allison nodded. “Then maybe you should get me that drink. We have

a lot to discuss.”

* * * * *

The Eric Conroy Gallery, located on Second Street, was the ideal

space for exhibiting art. Long narrow rooms—barely more than hallways

—lined three sides of a big space perfect for sculpture or installations.

The previous tenant had used the biggest room to sell designer shoes and

the narrow rooms for inventory. The layout would have been a nightmare

for most other retail stores. Tim had discovered the location after the

shoe store went bust, but the rent was too expensive, so he turned it

down. After half a year on the market, the owner called, eager for Tim to

take the property at a reduced price.

With weeks of renovation complete, the former shoe store had been

transformed into the perfect blank canvas. Neutral white walls and track

lighting guaranteed the art would pop. They even pulled up the cheap

carpeting and brought the wooden floors underneath back to life. Tim

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