Page 78 of Love Deep
“Then you need to find out why.”
I nod. I have to confront him. I have to find out what his problem is. And I want to solve it. I’m done spending time and energy on Gerry Banks. I need to speak to him. Why he’s so intent on having me fail.
“Is he staying in the same lodge as your members?”
“I can check.”
I don’t want to have this showdown in public. But I need a witness.
“I’m going to be right by your side,” Byron says. “You’re not having this conversation without me.” He offers before I even need to ask.
Of course. That’s what we do for each other.
That’s why I know I can handle Gerry Banks. Because I have five brothers who have my back. No matter what.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Juniper
It feels like it’s been raining for a month straight. It’s only been three days, but there’s a feeling of damp everywhere I go in Star Falls at the moment.
“Mommy, can we go to the playground?” Riley asks as she tucks into her cereal at our small dining table. “You said yourself that we’re not made of sugar.”
I laugh. When Riley was little, she was like a cat. She never wanted to go out in the rain. I used to coax her outside, telling her she wasn’t made of sugar, so she wouldn’t melt in the rain. I only have myself to blame for her wanting to go to the playground in this downpour.
“You’re as sweet as sugar,” I say. “But no, we can’t go to the playground, Riley. It’s just too wet.”
“But I’m bored, Mommy. We spent all day yesterday inside, too.”
She’s right. We spent yesterday getting caught up with chores and sorting through Riley’s wardrobe. It was immensely satisfying, but not very fun for Riley.
“Let’s go to the studio,” she suggests.
It’s a perfect day for the studio. Okay, the sun isn’t out, but the skylights make it possible to paint, whatever the weather. I just can’t face going in there at the moment.
I tried last week to go, but I got nothing done. All I could think about was Grace and the possibilities I’m giving up if I say no to her. It’s paralyzing. Usually, I can immerse myself in my work, whatever is going on in my personal life. Even when I gave up art school because I was pregnant, even when I lost that baby, even when Riley’s dad and I were splitting up.
At the worst times in my life, art has been my salvation. But now? Now, all I can think about is that I’m being offered a chance at my dreams again, and I can’t take it.
Can’t or… won’t.
“No studio today,” I say. “I’m waiting for some paint to come in.” As soon as I say it, I know Riley will find holes in my logic. She’s a smart kid, and sometimes I’m guilty of treating her like she’s still a baby.
“You have a ton of paint, Mom. Use what’s in the studio.”
“But I’m at a crucial bit and the paint I’m waiting on is metallic. I don’t have any in the studio.” It’s a lie, but as soon as I say it, it occurs to me that metallic on my current piece would actually look really cool. A deep, dirty bronze beneath some of the darker colors might look really effective, and I don’t have any. I make a mental note to do some online shopping tonight when Riley’s in bed.
There was a time when the idea of buying metallic paint would have been out of the question, but with the money from my sale of paintings to the Colorado Club, I can afford it and still not dip into Riley’s college fund. Most of it is earmarked for her, but I’ve managed to establish asmall emergency fund, and I also put aside a few hundred dollars for fun stuff. Metallic paint qualifies.
And what Riley doesn’t know is that she’s getting a ninth birthday party at Pizza Meet Ya.
“What does metallic mean?” she asks.
“Paint that looks like metal. Let me show you.” I pull up on my phone a picture of a metallic paint. It sure looks pretty.
“Oooh, Mommy, it looks like it has glitter in it.” Her eyes light up and it fills my heart that paint can get her as excited as it gets me. Maybe Riley will want to go to art school. If she does, the money from the Club will make her dreams a reality. What mother doesn’t want to do that for their kid?
“Right. You think it would look nice on the piece I’m working on at the moment?” I ask.
