He turned off the lights, grabbed the canvas, and walked out the door.
He sat at the bar with a beer clutched between his palms. The icy frost that melted onto the bar mimicked the puddle of tears he wished he could cry. Life was a bitch. It gave you a taste of something great, and then it pulled it back.
The stool next to him squeaked against the flooring when the person pulled it out and took a seat.
Baxter didn’t need to look at who it was; Doc was the only man he knew who still wore Old Spice.
“Looking glum there, my son.” Cannon dropped off a beer, a napkin, and a pen.
Doc drew the nine boxes for his daily tic-tac-toe game and set the pen on the bar.
Cannon picked it up and made an X in the upper left-hand corner, and Doc took the middle box of the right-hand column.
“Isn’t it better to claim the center first?” Baxter asked.
Doc shook his head. “There’s more than one strategy to get what you want.”
Cannon placed an X at the bottom left-hand column and Doc blocked the win with an O in the center. In two more moves, Cannon had won.
“You lost Doc, what kind of strategy was that?”
The older man turned toward him. “By the look on your face, I’d say you need to talk. By losing, Cannon gets paid by you because my counseling services aren’t free.”
Cannon nodded toward Doc. “And that’s why he’s the smartest man in town.” He turned and disappeared into the stockroom.
Baxter looked around the mostly empty bar. The only customers were two of the Lockhart brothers, and Goldie and Tilden, who all sat in the corner table, whispering like they were planning world domination.
“Do you want to tell me about it, or do I have to beat it out of you?”
Baxter pulled the mug to his lips and drank deeply, letting out a sigh when he placed the mug on the bar.
“Sosie’s sight came back today.”
Doc hit the table and let out a whoop that startled everyone. “That’s amazing. Why are you here instead of with her?”
He let his head hang. “She’s got a gallery thing and needs to get her canvases ready.”
Doc sipped his beer. “Oh, I see. She’s moving back to her old life.”
Baxter turned to face Doc. “Why would she stay here?”
“You’re here, that’s why.”
He chuckled. “What can I offer her that Denver can’t.”
A bear-like growl came from Doc. “Love,” Doc reached out and popped him on the side of the head. “You love the girl.”
“I do.”
“Does she know?”
“She does.”
“And she’s still leaving?”
Baxter finished his beer and held his mug up to catch Cannon’s attention to get another.
“I can’t expect her to give up her life for me. She thought her life was over, and she settled for me. I’m sure she thought I was the best she could do.”
Doc’s hand smacked him on the ear again.
“Ouch. Why are you doing that?”
“To knock some sense into you, boy. Love is rare and valuable. Never underestimate the value of your love. That girl probably hasn’t ever been appreciated for who she was. You didn’t care that she was some fancy painter, or that she was broken.”
“She wasn’t broken. She was perfect.” Baxter’s hackles rose at the notion that Sosie wasn’t perfect.
“That’s what I’m talking about. You saw her soul. How many people do you think have had that opportunity?”
They hadn’t talked about other relationships, so he didn’t know. When Doc’s hand raised again, Baxter covered his ears.
“She’s coming back, Baxter. Just make sure she knows she’s welcome. How much trust did it take to move in with you? She didn’t know you. She had to have faith that I was doing right by her and that you would as well. She let you into her heart and her bed. I’d say that’s the most vulnerable she’s ever been, and she depended on you to care for her. Now it’s time to trust her to come back.”
Doc finished his beer and moved his mug to the edge of the bar. “My work is done here. Go home and make love to your woman. Send her on her way with something to miss.” He slid off the barstool. “Don’t forget to pay for my beer and tip Cannon well. He’s got a baby on the way, and diapers aren’t cheap.”
Baxter settled his tab and went home to make sure the apartment was lit with candles, the tub filled with bubbles, and his heart bursting with love. He’d give Sosie a sendoff she’d never forget.
Chapter Nineteen
It was days ago, but her body still ached in all the right places, and her heart ached. If she closed her eyes, she could see the candles twinkling around the room, the flowers on the table, and a look on Baxter’s face that said he didn’t think she’d ever come back.
“Open your eyes, Sosie,” Dr. Patterson said. “I want to see what your optical nerve looks like.” He’d dilated her eyes and taken pictures with some fancy equipment.
“Mm-hmm, yep. I see.” He spoke in short affirmatives. “Not perfect, but in the right direction. I’m going to put you on another course of steroids to see if we can’t get the remaining swelling to go down, but I think you’re out of the woods.” He moved the equipment to the side and sat back. “Tell me what happened in the last four to six weeks that changed everything because I didn’t think you’d get a reversal.”
“I fell in love.”
Dr. Patterson’s brows lifted, leaving a crease in his forehead. “Love cures just about everything.”
“He helped me to see my life in a different way.”
“Interesting.”
She pulled an invitation to the gallery from her pocket. “I’ve got a show on Saturday if you want to attend. I finished all the paintings when I was blind.”
“Fascinating.” He tucked the invite into the pocket of his jacket. “No driving, yet. I think you can get by with over-the-counter readers, but I want to see you next month.”
She left feeling both happy and sad. Happy that her eyes were healing, and sad that Baxter wasn’t there to share in her joy.
She arrived at the gallery to supervise the hanging of her art. The order was important.
Last would be Baxter’s painting. Theresa said it was the best of the lot because there was so much emotion. Rage was the perfect name for the moment it was painted and destroyed, but all she saw now was love. She named the picture Love is Blind to honor the journey she’d taken since painting that piece. She moved to the starting canvas, which was mostly dark and scary. Black paint swirled in a vortex until it touched the light in the corner. It was just a peek of the meadow, a sliver of hope too small to recognize. As she moved through the pieces, she noticed things she hadn’t seen before. Tiny messages hidden in the movement. Words like truth and passion buried beneath the layers, but not too deep to be silenced. Those were the things that Baxter taught her. He gave her the courage to accept, and the strength to press on. He filled her heart with love and her body with passion. He saw her soul in a way that no other man could have. She saw him for the person who lived in his heart and mind, not the hot construction guy who made her body quiver at night. God, she missed those nights.
They’d chatted several times a day, but it wasn’t the same as holding him and feeling his heartbeat beneath her ear while they snuggled together. His voice was distant, and she was sure the miles between them had nothing to do with it. It was the distance she’d put between them when she left.
As if her thoughts summoned him, a text came in.
Got your invitation.
She waited as the three dots danced across her screen, stopped, and danced again, only to stop.
Will you come?
More dots moved, and it seemed like an eternity for him to write his answer.
She held her breath and waited and waited and waited.
Yes, I’ll be there. “Yes,” she yelled. I love you.
No dots danced across her screen
in response. She’d lost him, at least for that moment, but what about forever?
“I have to say, this show will be amazing,” Theresa said, reaching over her to straighten the frame. “I’ve already got offers on the Love is Blind piece.”
“I told you, it’s not for sale.”
“Don’t be silly, of course, it is.”
Sosie shook her head. “No, it’s not. It’s not mine to sell.”
As soon as she had pieces of art, Theresa became her best friend again.
“That wasn’t our agreement.”
Sosie moved to the next piece. “So, sue me.”
Theresa stuttered. “You know that I only sent that to give you a kick in the pants. It appeared to do the trick. Call it tough love.”
Sosie searched for the word in the background and found power. “Love isn’t tough, Theresa. It’s compassionate and understanding, and it’s forgiving. And because I have a certain love for you, I will forgive you for being such an awful person and leaving me in a diner. You abandoned me, and that might have been the most loving thing you did because I realized that your love of art and money and fame drove me all these years. You’re the one who made me feel like I was nothing without my art, but you’re wrong.” She moved to the next canvas, which showed ripples of color moving out from complete darkness to blend in with the meadow, which took up half the canvas.
“Oh, Sosie, you’re something. You’re a beautiful young woman, but art is who you are.”
Funny how Theresa’s tune changed when everything went back to status quo.
As she progressed down the row, the pictures grew lighter and happier and showed the love floating from the tip of her paintbrush.
“No,” she looked at Theresa. “Art is not who I am, it’s what I do, or ... what I did.” She turned and walked out of the gallery.
“What are you talking about?” Theresa called after her. “I’ve already committed you for several pieces and a show in Paris next year.”
Sosie stopped and turned around. “Sorry, I’ve packed up and moved out. I’ve got tile to lay, paint to choose, and a man to love.”
“You are not going back to that little, nothing town.”
“Aspen Cove? It’s not nothing. It’s everything. He’s everything.”
“You’re making a mistake. The world needs what you offer. You owe it to your fans to continue.”
“I owe myself a life, and that’s my new focus.”
She laughed all the way home. Baxter Black didn’t think she was coming back. What would he think when he couldn’t get rid of her?
She nearly skipped to her apartment, where the movers were finishing packing up her stuff.
She tipped them generously, knowing she wouldn’t be destitute once the new paintings sold.
“I’ll let you know in the next few days where to deliver my stuff,” She told the man in charge and followed them into the hallway before she closed the door on her old life.
Being blind had been scary because she had no choice. Now she was uprooting her life and trusting that love would guide the way because she believed the right man could make a difference—had made a difference-- to her world.
On her way to the Brown Palace Hotel, she dialed her mother, who picked up after the first ring.
“Sosie, sweetheart, how are you?”
“I’m good, Mom.” She hadn’t told her mother anything that had gone on over the last six months, including her loss of vision. After her nervous breakdown, April Grant didn’t have the fortitude to deal with stress. She was better off sitting on her veranda, painting, and thinking all was right in the world.
“What’s new with your art?”
That had usually been the topic of conversation because they both had a love for anything artistic. “It’s been slow, but I’ll be okay.”
“I’ve got some of your earlier pieces we can auction if you need the money, honey.”
Sosie laughed. “No, mom, I’m okay. I have a show tomorrow that should get me out of the pickle I was in.”
“Speaking of pickles,” her mother giggled. “Is your brother in trouble again? I haven’t heard from him.”
“He’s enjoying a spa month.” That was what they always called rehab. While it wasn’t hot stone massages and pink champagne, she always sent him to the best places.
“I don’t know what to do for him, but I’m grateful you’re always there.”
“That’s the thing, mom, you can’t do anything for him. He has to want to do it for himself. I have faith that he’s turning a corner, and he’ll figure it out.” She wasn’t sure that was true, but she didn’t have the resources to save him from himself any longer.
“And you? Are you figuring it out?”
“I am. I’ve got this new art that is my magnum opus. I painted them blind.” She didn’t go into detail. Eventually, word would leak out and make it to Tuscany that Sosie Grant had temporarily lost her sight, and she’d get a motherly call chastising her for not reaching out for help.
“Why would you do that? You’re an incredible impressionist, Sosie. While I’m sure you could paint a masterpiece in your sleep, never chase fame or fads.”
“It’s not that at all. I’ll send you a picture of one.” It was the least she could do since she was the one who cultivated her love of art, who gave up everything, including her own career, so Sosie could become the painter she is. “Mom,” her heart raced just thinking about the pieces. “They’re raw and real and painted from my soul. I thought I should go out with something people will talk about for years to come.”
“Go out? What do you mean?”
“I’m moving on. I fell in love, and I’m following my heart.”
“I’m so happy for you, honey.”
Love had never been kind to her mother. In fact, love hadn’t been kind to any of them. It wasn’t a conversation mother and daughter had, given her father’s betrayal and her family’s suffering, but Sosie knew now that everything was possible, including love.
“What about you, Mom? Will you open your heart to love?”
There were long seconds of silence. “I have. I’m with Dante.” It came out in a quick confession.
“Dante, the plumber?”
She thought there had been an unusual number of leaks and fixes needed on a fully renovated house.
“He’s so much more than that. He’s everything. Now tell me about your man.”
Sosie spent the entire forty-minute walk talking about Baxter. By the time she climbed the stairs and entered the hotel lobby, they were ready to say goodbye. Her mother’s final words were, “Always choose love.”
She was choosing love, but would the man she loved choose her?
Chapter Twenty
He hoped Doc was right about the sport coat and slacks without a tie. He’d tucked a blue one in his pocket in case he needed it.
On the sidewalk, he looked through the windows of the gallery, hoping to get a peek of Sosie before he went inside. It was better to get the heart pumping dizziness out of the way, so he didn’t make a complete fool of himself.
The packed gallery held hundreds of people ambling about, drinking champagne, and eating tiny pieces of toast with who knew what on top.
He presented his invitation to the person at the door and asked if she knew where Sosie Grant was.
Obviously, the woman was a one-time hire because she looked at him with confusion.
“There are five collections on display tonight, is she one of the artists?”
“No, she is the artist.” He half considered taking her position at the door. He would know at least twenty percent of the work. Then again, he hadn’t seen the finished product before she packed up the canvases and left.
He should have insisted on seeing them. Maybe she left him because she didn’t think he supported her work. He was just another person telling her to move on. He shook his head. That wasn’t true, he’d put her in front of a canvas and asked her to paint. Her work had hung proudly in a place
of prominence in his house because he loved it, and he loved her.
He grabbed a glass of champagne from the waiter’s tray as he passed and downed the first glass, chasing after the man to get a second.
He moved past paintings that were colorful but lacked the passion that Sosie’s did. She bled her soul straight into the paint. Her heart was in every stroke of the brush.
He moved from piece to piece, looking for her and her work. He turned the corner and froze. In front of him was his piece or the piece that used to belong to him. He didn’t harbor any resentment that she took it back. It was an original and could bring her a lot of money. What made him unhappy was having nothing to remember her by.
“It’s magnificent, isn’t it?” a man to his right said. He slid his glasses from the tip of his nose to the bridge. “Too bad it’s already spoken for. I would have paid anything for this piece.” He moved his hands back and forth in front of the canvas without touching it. “You can see the emotion in it. There’s everything there from rage to love. It’s aptly named Love is Blind, don’t you think?”
Baxter wasn’t an expert in art, but he felt he’d become an expert in Sosie in the short time she was there.
“There was passion there, all right. Sosie Grant has a way of pulling out every emotion a person can feel.” Right now, he felt somewhat lost. This was her life. Art was her world, and he knew nothing about it. The man next to him could probably talk to her about it all day long, and they’d never run out of things to say.
He didn’t like thinking of Sosie with any other man than him. Hundreds of thoughts had gone through his mind the last few days. Thoughts about what he had and what he wanted. She’d asked him to come to Denver, and he flat-out refused her. That was the equivalent of telling her she had no value beyond what she brought him in Aspen Cove.
He moved backward through the art until the dark overtook the light, and his emotions matched the tone.
He stood staring at the first painting, where only a corner of it showed color. This was what his life felt like now. Even the blue and green sea-glass tiles he put in the bathroom seemed dim when she wasn’t there.
One Hundred Glances (An Aspen Cove Small Town Romance Book 14) Page 14
