Why Not Tonight

by Susan Mallery

  Natalie realized her part-time gig as Pallas’s helper had ended. The slightly mysterious and very together Renee was going to pick up any slack, leaving Natalie free to return to her art projects, especially the one Atsuko had mentioned. And she would, just as soon as she stopped being curious about who Renee was and why she’d decided to move to Happily Inc.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  THE SALLY RIDE Elementary School was about two blocks from the Rio de los Suenos and ten minutes from the gallery. Ronan figured he’d driven by it maybe a hundred times and had never once paid attention to it. Today, he pulled into the parking lot and told himself he was an idiot. Who was he to think he could help some kid he’d never met? Or a kid he had met. He wasn’t equipped or trained. His entire experience with children came from being a kid himself. He should cancel the meeting and go back to work. Only he couldn’t.

  Natalie’s talk about her mother had lodged in his brain and refused to let go. He’d gone online and done some preliminary research and had found out that studies really did show that art made a difference in a child’s mental development. It improved confidence, motor skills and focus. Creating art used both sides of the brain and, as Natalie had said, showed more than one way to solve a problem.

  He grabbed his backpack and walked into the school. After introducing himself to the man at the front desk, he was shown to the principal’s office.

  Dr. Anthony was in her midfifties. She motioned for Ronan to take a seat on a very worn sofa while she sat in an equally battered club chair.

  “This is where I hang out with nervous parents,” she joked. “I call it my corner of tears. Having said that, let’s both try not to cry during this meeting. You’ll be humiliated and that will make me uncomfortable.”

  Ronan chuckled. “It’s a deal.”

  She studied him. “When I saw your name on my calendar, I thought it sounded familiar, so I looked you up online. You have an interesting reputation, Mr. Mitchell.”

  “Ronan, please. As for my reputation, I’m assuming it was all about my work.”

  “It is. Your personal life is a bit of a mystery. In this day and age, that’s rare. Most people who can get their fifteen minutes of fame seem willing to do almost anything.”

  “I prefer to work in quiet.”

  “Then how can I help you?”

  He wasn’t sure what to say. “I understand that school budgets are squeezed these days. More students and requirements with less money. Programs get cut.”

  “You’re talking about art programs, aren’t you?”

  He nodded.

  She sighed. “Yes, they have been. We try. Our regular teachers fill in as best they can, but we don’t have a designated art teacher anymore.”

  “I would like to offer a monthly program for your students. I haven’t figured out all the details and I’d appreciate some help on that, assuming you’re interested. I was thinking I’d come in for the day and spend an hour with each grade. We’d do something together. If you can provide the space, I’d bring in the supplies.”

  Her steady gaze never wavered. “Why would you want to do that? It’s a huge commitment of time and resources. Don’t you have better things to be doing?”

  Not the answer he’d expected. “I have never wanted for anything. My father is famous, and once he figured out I had inherited his talent, the assumption was I would follow in his footsteps.”

  “Which you have.”

  “Agreed. I have been successful by any measure and I’m grateful for that. But it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Helping kids discover the joy of painting or working with clay one day a month isn’t asking too much of myself.”

  He paused. “In the spirit of full disclosure, I have no formal teaching experience. I work with college interns a lot but I’ve been known to yell at them. You’d want me to be supervised.”

  He realized about fifteen seconds too late he probably shouldn’t have said that.

  “Not that I would yell at children. I wouldn’t. I’m just saying, I’m not a teacher. I don’t claim to be. I’m a guy who knows and likes art and I want to share that.”

  “Would you want the press to be around while you teach? Are you working on a documentary?”

  “What? No. No press, no parents, no anyone. This isn’t about publicity. I’d prefer to be anonymous.”

  Her expression softened. “Interesting. You couldn’t possibly handle the project by yourself. There are too many children in each grade. You’d be overwhelmed.”

  “I’ll bring the interns with me.” And he would ask Natalie. He had a feeling she would enjoy helping out.

  “No yelling at the interns in front of the children, Ronan. I’d have to insist on that.”

  He grinned. “You have my word.”

  “Then I think we should talk about this very seriously. Your offer is generous and I want to find a way to make it work.”

  “Me, too.”

  * * *

  AN HOUR LATER Ronan arrived back at the studio. He and Dr. Anthony had come up with a plan. She was going to have to run the proposal by the school board, but she had said she doubted there would be a problem. Ronan was well-known in the community and his lack of flamboyant lifestyle was in his favor. There would be teachers on hand to provide supervision. Once she had approval, she would be in touch.

  He found Natalie working on a massive floral-butterfly mixed-media piece. She’d already sketched the dozens of butterflies and had begun applying torn bits of paper. On a tray next to her desk were the broken clock faces they’d picked up at the recycling center.

  “Clocks and flowers and butterflies?” he asked.

  “Changing seasons. I’m not totally sure about that, though. I might just do all paper. I haven’t decided.” She smiled. “Atsuko heard from her friend, and the magazine paper, or whatever it’s called, will arrive next week. I can’t wait to get started. In the meantime, I’m doing this.”

  She glanced over her shoulder as if making sure his brothers weren’t that close, then lowered her voice. “How was the meeting?”

  “Good. She liked my idea and she’s going to take it to the school board.”

  “Yay!” Natalie shimmied in place. “I told you it would go well. You’re going to let me help, right? I’ve been thinking we should do a theme. Like painting one time and something with wood or glass.”

  “And paper,” he said, lightly touching her cheek. “They have to learn to work with paper.”

  “They do. And they will. Are you happy? Doesn’t it feel good to offer this? You’re going to be so great with the kids, Ronan. You’re patient and you understand how stuff works.”

  “I warned Dr. Anthony I yell at my interns.”

  “You don’t. Okay, every now and then, but not really.”

  She was always seeing the best in him. In everyone, he supposed. Every challenge was another opportunity to try something new. Only Natalie saw the beauty in a broken clock face.

  “You’re amazing,” he said, pulling her close and kissing her.

  She kissed him back and grinned. “I am pretty special. Now get back to work. I have to create beautiful butterflies here, mister.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  * * *

  NATALIE STOOD BACK to study her mixed-media piece. The direction had taken her by surprise. She really had been thinking maybe something with seasons but instead she found herself creating flowers within flowers. Not quite a kaleidoscope, but close, with the butterflies for accent. She’d used over a dozen different types of paper, mixing them into a swirling, living creation that seemed to sway in an imaginary breeze. She wasn’t completely sure, but she thought it might be the best thing she’d ever done.

  “Next up, giant flowers for Atsuko,” she murmured to herself as she walked to her right and looked at her piece from that angle. She was creating
those in her mind right now, playing with shapes and sizes in preparation for actually starting the work. It was how her process went best—at least on the big things. She mulled and considered before actually starting with real materials. But in the meantime, she was thrilled with what she’d created.

  She walked away, then spun back to look at it from a distance. The colors blended seamlessly; the energy was positive. She felt herself smiling as she gazed at it. Yup, the best thing she’d ever made by far, she thought happily.

  She was in a good place. Working hard, trying new things. She knew that success required hard work, determination and persistence. Once those three were conquered, there was often an element of luck. She’d been putting in the time and now she had her reward.

  She laughed and picked up the canvas, then hurried across the studio. She wanted to show Ronan the final results of her fussing for the past couple of weeks. He’d been watching her work but hadn’t offered any suggestions...mostly because he was the best boyfriend ever. Despite his wild success, he never assumed he was better or knew more or—

  “Ronan!” she called as she approached. “It’s done. Come look.”

  He turned at the sound of her voice. He’d been working and had on goggles and held a blowpipe in his hands. At the end, a blob of molten glass glowed in the late-afternoon light. Natalie found herself instantly mesmerized by the colors in the nearly liquid glass and she didn’t notice the box in her path.

  She kicked it, stumbled and started to fall forward. Ronan instinctively moved toward her to catch her. The molten glass touched the top of the canvas and ignited a tiny petal of paper. In less than a second, the flames spread, racing toward her hands and her chest.

  “No!” she shrieked, instinctively turning the canvas and dropping it facedown on the floor.

  Ronan shoved the molten glass into a cooling bucket, ripped off his goggles and rushed back to her. He stood staring at the back of the canvas and swore under his breath.

  “I’m sorry,” he began. “Natalie, I’m sorry. It happened so fast and I didn’t mean...” His voice trailed off.

  She knew he meant what he said—he would never deliberately do anything to hurt her and he would never destroy anything she’d made. It had been an accident. She’d tripped, he’d started toward her. Just one of those things. A little hiccup in the forward momentum of life.

  Only... Only... Her chest got so tight she couldn’t breathe. Her throat burned as tears filled her eyes. Before she could figure out how to stop them, they spilled onto her cheeks. A sob escaped.

  Her work. Her beautiful, amazing piece. It was destroyed. She didn’t have to see it to know.

  Strong arms wrapped around her. She leaned into him and let herself cry out her disappointment.

  “I’m sorry,” he said again and again. “Dammit, I’m so sorry.”

  “I know. It’s o-okay.”

  “It’s not. I want to make it better.”

  She was sure that was true. She could feel the tension in his body and knew he was hurting almost as much as she was. He would live with the guilt while she would deal with the loss. The piece was gone and there was nothing she could do about that.

  She drew back and wiped her face. “I’m going to go home. I need to be alone right now.”

  “Can I come with you?”

  She looked into his green eyes and saw pain and worry and enough caring that she was able to breathe again.

  “I’ll be okay.”

  He started to speak, but she shook her head. “Ronan, it’s not your fault. We both know that. I’ll get through this, I swear. I just have to be disappointed for a little while.”

  He looked as if she’d kicked him in the gut. Natalie tried to feel bad, but she hurt too much to think past her own pain. She ignored the fallen painting and got her bag from her desk, then headed for her car. When she got home, she quickly changed into yoga pants and a T-shirt, then sank onto her bed, curled up in a ball and began to cry.

  * * *

  “HOW’S NATALIE?” NICK asked as they ran along the park’s trail. The tournament was coming up faster than Ronan had realized and they were in a rush to get in shape.

  “Not good,” Ronan said, thinking about how quiet she’d been when he’d stopped by the previous night. “She says she’s fine, but she’s not.”

  “I haven’t seen her since it happened.” Mathias glanced at him, then returned his attention to the trail. “Has she been to work?”

  “Just in the office. She hasn’t been back in the studio.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Nick told him. “It just happened.”

  Something Ronan had told himself about a thousand times, but that didn’t stop the gut-churning guilt that never left. She’d created something wonderful and he’d destroyed it. He’d been the one to pick up the piece after she’d left. The canvas was still intact but the flowers were ruined. Those at the top had been burned down to nothing while those at the bottom were singed, with the middle petals somewhere on the spectrum, depending on their placement.

  For a couple of minutes, he’d had the idea that maybe he could fix it or something, but who was he kidding? He didn’t have her gift. Besides, it wasn’t as if what had been lost could be replaced. It was a one-of-a-kind creation and now it was gone.

  “So, ah, how’s that volunteer school project?” Mathias asked in an obvious attempt to change the subject. “What are you going to do for your first class?”

  He figured the distraction was as much for them as for him. No one liked to think about Natalie suffering.

  “I thought I’d go traditional and we’d start with paints. I’m going to work up some templates, show them how to divide their work space. Talk a little about perspective, that kind of thing.”

  “Want some help?” Mathias asked. “Sounds like it’s going to be cool. I’d like to go with you.”

  “Me, too,” Nick added. “I can wrangle a kid or two. It will be good practice. Plus, I was thinking about the classes. Remember when I used to play around with animation? Maybe I could work up something with that. Break it down into steps. Show the kids how to illustrate the high points of a story. With all the animation software out there these days, the students who are interested could take it to the next step on their own.”

  “Thanks.” Ronan cleared his throat. “I appreciate the offer. I welcome any help you want to give.”

  They finished their last lap, then walked to the chin-up bar, where they took turns alternately cheering and jeering each other as they finished their workout.

  The charity tournament was in a few days. Aidan and Del would be arriving, along with their wives. It was going to be a Mitchell brother reunion.

  When Ronan had first found out he’d been committed to the event, he’d felt trapped. Now he was grateful to have time with his brothers. Natalie had dragged him back to the land of the living. Without her, he would still be moody, reclusive and without purpose.

  Thinking about her reminded him of what he’d done and how she was still crushed. If only there was a way to make it up to her—but there wasn’t. In his head, he understood it really had been an accident and no one was at fault. In his heart and his gut, he knew he’d hurt Natalie, and how on earth was he supposed to get over that?

  * * *

  “I’M WHINING,” PALLAS said with a strangled laugh. “You’re welcome to hang up on me if you don’t have time.”

  Natalie was alone in her office at the gallery. She’d finished all her work and, were this any other day, she would be eager to get into the studio and get going on whatever project she had planned. But she hadn’t been back to the studio since the accident and going there now seemed impossible.

  She shifted her cell phone to her other ear and said, “I would love to listen to you whine. What’s going on?”

  Pallas sighed. “Just a bunch of little stuff
that makes me insane. The villain T-shirts are printed wrong. They’re going to be replaced, but they’re from a vendor I really trust. Now I wonder if they’re going to screw up other stuff, which isn’t fair, but it’s how I feel. Renee was the one to find the mistakes. Thank goodness she insisted on checking the order. I would have just left the boxes in the storage room, ready to go for the wedding.”

  “Are we liking Renee more?”

  Pallas laughed. “Yes. I mean, I never didn’t like her. It’s just she’s so perfect. It’s unnerving.”

  “What else is going wrong?”

  “I can’t for the life of me get the whole, and I’m using air quotes here, icy lair thing right. Renee’s working on it, too, and we’re stymied. Oh, Silver did a midweek wedding at one of the other venues last night and she called to say she thinks she got food poisoning.”

  “Oh, no. That’s awful. How is she feeling?”

  “She had to go throw up before she could tell me, so I’m guessing not good. And that’s everything here. You’re coming to the dinner on Friday, aren’t you? I’m looking forward to hanging out with everyone.”

  With all five brothers in town, a big family dinner had been planned. Ronan had asked Natalie to go with him. “I’m a little nervous about seeing Aidan, Del and their wives again.”

  “You’ll do great. They’re so sweet. I got to know Del and Maya last year when I worked on their wedding. I didn’t spend as much time with Aidan and Shelby, but they seemed really nice.” Pallas laughed. “I’ll make sure you and Ronan sit by us. How’s that? Then if you run out of things to say, you can roll your eyes at me.”

  Natalie smiled. “It’s a deal.”

  She and her friend chatted for a few more minutes, then hung up. Natalie looked at the clock and knew she had an entire afternoon to fill. The past couple of days, when she finished in the office, she’d simply gone home, but she couldn’t avoid the studio forever. There’d been a disaster, but no one was hurt and her next piece would be even better. The only way to get over her disappointment was to move on.