Page 107 of The Wedding Ranch
She let Mister out back.
Lorri went upstairs to her studio and turned on the lights. She raised the blinds one by one, sunlight filling the room, then sat in front of the painting she’d been working on.
She closed her eyes, letting her mind slow. She was sorry she’d found it so easy to judge Jeff for the way he spent his life. She still hadn’t figured out what she was supposed to really do with hers. Yes, she tried to be kind and considerate. Worked hard and didn’t create drama. And now she was here in this small town. Running from the conflict. At first anyway, but she didn’t regret the move. Not for a moment.
She missed spending time with Ryder. Wished it could’ve been different. They spoke honestly, even when the conversations were difficult.
Was that because of Ryder, or had she changed?
“Does it matter?” She stared at the painting of Ryder’s property. All those colors they’d enjoyed the other day.
Her dream had been to create art that was thought-provoking and hope-filled. Something that would tickle a memory or make someone take a trip to see what she’d painted for them, or for those limited to travel, a way to share what they may have never had the opportunity to experience otherwise.
She was ready to experience that. To trust her gift and give it her all. The graphics for work were directed by hungry account execs looking for ways to manipulate or sway the purchasing public into seeing things their way. Harboring the keeping-up-with-the-Joneses attitude, dreaming bigger than their pocketbooks could comfortably afford. It paid her bills, had done so for years now.
This painting, it filled her heart rather than her bank account. She now understood the heart and soul needed to be full too.
She’d done exactly what her Dad had told her she should do.But for all those financially comfortable years, she’d sacrificed attention to the things that were important to her. To top it off the one person she did all of that for, Craig, hadn’t cared enough to even honor their vows. The lesson there was clear.Do what matters to me. It’s my journey. My purpose. I’ll touch the right people.
She spread a few colors and made soft purposeful dabs. The new brushes Pam had given her felt good in her hand.
The images took shape with each pull of her brush.
There was more in this landscape than the trees, creek, and mill. There were memories, laughs, and whimsy. The tiny butterfly, little lisa, floating along the top of the seed heads between the tall blades of grass, zigging and zagging haphazardly as if the act of taking flight had made it dizzy, like the one that day when Lorri went horseback riding with Ryder, and maybe a distant relative of the butterfly that had practically kissed her cheek when she left Jeff today with less anger in her heart.
Chapter Thirty
Ryder dialed Lorri, but it went to voice mail again. He was beginning to think she’d blocked his number.
He unfolded theLeafland Ledger Newsto read the headlines. As he turned the page, a swirl of color caught his eye. He recognized the image, but it took him a minute to remember where he’d seen it before.
On Lorri’s desk.It was just as eye-catching in thumbnail size as it had been printed on a full sheet of paper.
A tick of aggravation gnawed at him as he made the connection. She’d created the logo for Bloom. The crooked man who’d swayed his father out of his land.
“Good morning, Ryder.” Diane walked in the back door carrying a glossy envelope. She poured herself a cup of coffee. “Oh. What’s that face for?”
“Nothing. What?”
She tossed the envelope on the table and pulled out the chairacross from him. “You look out of sorts. Haven’t seen that snarl lately.” She nudged him jokingly as she sat.
He pointed at the graphic. “Lorri made that.”
She nodded, then her mouth formed anO. “Oh, Bloom?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Well, it’s still a nice logo.”
He inhaled as he shook his head.
“What?” Diane stared at him. “You can’t be pissed at Bloom. Or her for being connected to him. That’s misplaced anger. Bloom didn’t cheat Dad out of our land. He paid a fair price.”
“More than fair. Dad couldn’t say no.” Ryder closed the paper. They’d had this argument before.
“When are you going to let that go? Not having that acreage hasn’t changed our lives one bit. If Dad was still farming it, we wouldn’t have it either.”
“I know.”
