The Lonely Artist

by Autumn Skye

  ***

  Just as I feared, it was an evening that seemed to go on forever. I tossed and turned and made my way out to the balcony, staring up at the dark sky, waiting for the first rays of light hours before they'd come.

  Ryan was a bit miffed when morning finally came and I called him at six AM.

  “What the fuck, kid?”

  “Did I wake you?”

  “I only got to bed three hours ago. What do you think?”

  “Sounds like the party stayed in full swing after I left.”

  “Yeah, why did you leave so early? I don't know why you bother to show up on my doorstep.”

  “The same reason I'm calling you now. I don't have anyone else.”

  “Did I ask for your brutal honesty? Lie to me next time. Besides, Katrina looked more than happy glued to your side.”

  “Not so much right at this minute.”

  “Tell me you didn't blow off the one woman who might be capable and willing to put up with your shit.”

  “I didn't blow her off.”

  “Whatever you did, make it up to her. I like her. She's a keeper.”

  “You hardly know her, and I didn’t do anything.”

  “She's sweet and she was more interested in my library than the size of my house. It's the first time I've ever seen you without an airhead or a gold digger tagging along. What'd you do to piss her off. Can you fix it?”

  “For the last time, we aren’t fighting. I called because I need your help. Are you up for breakfast?”

  “No, but I can drink a gallon of coffee while you eat.”

  “That works. Meet me at the Harper's bread and breakfast?”

  “Why such a long drive? They have cafe's in Fort Worth.”

  “I'll explain it to you when you get there.”

  “It has to be Harper's?”

  “Yes.”

  “In that case, I'll meet you at eight. I'm going to need that coffee before I leave and a shower, too. I'm pretty sure I smell like cigarettes and Scotch.”

  “You always smell like that,” I said.

  “It's how I mark my territory. Gotta leave my scent behind wherever I go.”

  “I always said you were a dog.”

  “I never denied it”

  “See you at eight,” I replied.

  For once I managed to arrive without being tardy. He looked genuinely surprised to see me walk into the Harper Manor's adjoined restaurant at two minutes before eight. He'd obviously still beaten me by quite some time, judging by the half empty cup of coffee and the saucer of sliced fruit sitting in front of him.

  “Hey, I didn't expect you until nine or so,” he said, rising from his seat to give me hug.

  “I said eight.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Are you trying to roast me, because you really suck at it,” I said with a roll of my eyes.

  “Roast you? Never. I have thought of staging an intervention for your ass, though.”

  “Wouldn't you need my friends to show up? That's a short list.”

  “Oh, let's not be so negative and surly this early in the morning. Why don't you tell me why you dragged me out here in the middle of nowhere?”

  “It's hardly the sticks.”

  “Actually, it is.”

  “Order me some coffee and a plate of eggs and bacon and I'll get down to it. Add on some biscuits and gravy. I'm in the mood for a nice country breakfast.”

  “How do you stay so thin?”

  “As you pointed out, I'm usually too surly to chow down.”

  “But not today?”

  “Today I'm in a pretty good mood.”

  He ordered my plate and looked at me expectantly. “Okay, tell Uncle Ryan what's up?”

  “I've been going over my options like you told me to. I want to sell the gallery.”

  “You're running again?”

  “No, I'm walking. There's a difference. If I were running, I'd be calling you from the airport.”

  “That is what you did last time,” he nodded. “What changed your mind?”

  “I'm not sure.” That wasn't true. Kat had changed my mind. She'd made me believe I might have a shot at this happiness thing so many people were raving about, but I knew it wouldn't be possible without her.

  “Selling the gallery feels both wrong and right to me. I know I'm not cut out for the business, but-

  “You think your father wouldn't approve?”

  I nodded.

  “You're wrong. He absolutely would.”

  “Why?”

  “He loved you. He'd hate to see you saddled with an obligation that makes you so miserable. I probably shouldn't even call it an obligation. It's more like a burden.”

  “I wouldn't go that far.”

  “I would. He passed on his love of art to you, but not his love of business.”

  “I wouldn't say that, either. I am interested in running a business, just not the gallery.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes, I want to put in an offer on this place.”

  “This motel?”

  “It's a bed and breakfast.”

  “Isn't that a romantic word for a motel?”

  “No.”

  “Hmm, shows what I know.”

  “A bed and breakfast creates an entirely different atmosphere than a motel. I was considering showing a few of my father's Regency and Victorian pieces here. It occurs to me that it's selfish of me to hoard such a vast collection inside a vault when they could be appreciated by the public here.”

  “Back up a second. Is this place even for sale?”

  “I'm worth 2.5 billion dollars. I can convince the owners to sell. I was hoping you could put in an offer for me.”

  “You do have an assistant to take care of things like that.”

  “I didn't want to tell Kat about my plans until they were finalized. It was her idea in a roundabout way. She planted the seeds, so I thought I'd surprise her. As it is, I'm trying not to get too excited myself. I don't intend to sell the gallery until I hold the auction. I’m shooting for the spring or summer, but I know I'm just kidding myself.”

  “Why is it so important that you hold the auction and repair the galleries reputation if you're just going to sell? I'm positive you could still get a decent sale right now. Why are you stalling?”

  “The McDowan name doesn't mean much to me, but it was important to Dad. I want people to know I'm getting out of the business because I want to, not because I ran it into the ground.”

  “So, you're being egotistical and prideful.”

  “If that's how you choose to put it.”

  “There is a way to uphold the family name and still get out now,” he said.

  “I'm listening.”

  “You sell the gallery and you donate your father's private collection to the city and state museums. The media would play you as a philanthropist and you'd still have a huge fortune if this new venture of yours fails. You could afford to start a thousand new business's and fail at them all or retire altogether and never worry about money.”

  “You doubt my ability to run a bread and breakfast? Your faith in me is so encouraging, Ryan.”

  “I've no doubt you can do whatever you put your mind to, or you can hire people to do it for you. Now, what do you think of my solution?”

  “I must admit, it's tempting. I can't start a new life until I break my ties with the old. I'll think on it if you'll put in an offer for me to buy this place.”

  “I'll do that. Am I correct in assuming the sooner the better? You're ready to move forward with this?”

  “Yes, I'm ready.” Part of me wondered if I wasn't making a mistake by not running any of this past Kat first. I was hoping this could be something we could do together, but I was essentially eliminating her job, asking her to go from being a curator to a manager of a bread and breakfast. She had every right to tell me to fuck off, and she just might. I was taking a chance, but my gut, and more importantly my heart, was telling me it was worth it.
/>   Chapter Fifteen

  Katrina

  When Corrine didn't come into the office that day I didn't know what to think. She'd said she had some things to take care of, but that was a vague statement and she hadn’t called to fill me in on any details. I spent my morning searching for potential buys she could auction off for a possible profit, hoping I'd find something so I'd have an excuse to call her. Late afternoon, I was still empty handed when I hit her number on my contact list. Just when her phone went to voice mail she strode into the office with her cell in her hand.

  “You rang?”

  “Very funny.”

  “I'm sorry I'm late. I met with Ryan for breakfast to discuss some business and it ran late.”

  “You're the boss. You don't have to explain anything,” I reminded her.

  “Don't be that way, Kat. How many times must I remind you that I'm more than your boss?”

  “How did your meeting with Ryan go? Does have any ideas for the auction?”

  “I do have some news, but you have to promise to hear me out.”

  “Of course.”

  “There's been a change of plans. We probably won't be holding an auction. I'm selling the gallery right away. At least I think I am. It somewhat depends on you. I'm going to need your help.”

  “Does it really benefit me to help my way out of a job?”

  “More like into a new one.”

  “Would you care to elaborate? My heart just skipped a beat.”

  “I'm putting in an offer on the Harper mansion. I intend to sell my home and live there.”

  “Live in the Harper mansion? Is this a joke?”

  “You didn't think the notion was so preposterous the night we stayed there.”

  “No, not preposterous, just sudden and surprising. You weren't lying when you said you had some things to take care of, I see. You've been very busy. I mean, congratulations if that's what you really want. The most important thing is that you do what makes you happy, but how do I fit into all this?”

  “I want you to live with me and help me run the place. You've said yourself that you're not anymore into the business than I am. You're an artist. You'd have plenty of time to paint. We could finish my portrait and I have some amazing ideas on renovating the place. We could build a real business and a real life there. You wanted to know where you stand with me and there you have it. It's a real commitment, if you still want one.”

  “I do, it just feels-

  “Like I'm acting on a whim?”

  “Yes, for lack of a better word.”

  “I am, but sometimes that's not a bad thing. I hired you on a whim and that worked out great.”

  I gave her a look of doubt. “It still sounds crazy. What do I know about running a bed and breakfast? I’m not sure how much help I’d be to you.”

  “You know as much as I do. We’re two intelligent women. We can figure it out. Before you completely blow me off, would you do me a favor and come see the place? Let me show you what I have in mind.”

  “This minute? You said you haven’t placed the offer yet.”

  “That’s a formality. I’m ninety-nine percent sure the owners will sell.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because I’ll pay double, even triple what it’s worth if I have to,” she shrugged.

  “That doesn’t sound like smart business.”

  “It’s not just about business. I’m doing this for me, for us. It’s personal. Whatever profit I make is icing on the cake. I don’t need more money. I could afford to run the place at a loss for the rest of our lives.”

  “Our lives?”

  She nodded and grinned. “I’m hoping I can convince you to stick around.”

  “I still say this is crazy.”

  “It was your idea.”

  “Hmm, it was, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, so there’s no backing out now.”

  “All right then, let’s go see what brilliant plan you’ve come up with,” I agreed.

  We took the limo and I couldn’t resist asking, “Corrine, do you even know how to drive?”

  “I inherited a fleet of cars. I’ll have to show them to you the next time your over.”

  “But do you ever drive them?”

  “No, I’m going to sell them off with the house. It’s the simple life in the country from now on.”

  “You do realize people who cherish the simple life don’t ride around in limos, right?” I chuckled.

  “Then, I’ll buy a Honda, or you can drive me around in yours. When I sell the gallery, I’ll be out of the limelight. I’m looking forward to a quiet existence.”

  “I don’t about that. I’m sure the gossip columns will write about your new venture.”

  “That’s fine. If my name brings in customers I’ll be glad to use it, but it’s different. No more cocktail parties where I stand, bored out my mind, in a room full of stuffy, judgmental pricks who don’t even hide the fact that they hate me. And if I lose three million dollars no one will care. If I run around my property buck naked outside under a full moon, no one will know or bat an eye if they do.”

  “Oh, I think the overnight guests would bat more than one eye at that,” I teased.

  “Maybe they’ll think I’m Libby Harper, roaming the grounds restlessly like any ghost would. It could be good for business.”

  “Well, it sounds like you have it all figured out.”

  “We’ll figure it out together,” she said, reaching across the seat to give my hand a squeeze. I was amazed that one touch and a few words from her could make me believe anything she said.

  When we arrived at the Harper’s mansion we climbed out of the limo and took a moment to stand staring at the mammoth old house. Could this really be our new home?

  “Take a walk with me?”

  I put my hand in hers and we headed to the North side of the building. A few yards away there was an empty stable that looked in dire need of some repairing.

  “I want to buy some horses and offer the customers old-fashioned carriage rides. We could make this the place to come for romantic getaways.”

  “That’s a great idea,” I replied.

  “I thought so, and I have more. Let’s go inside and I’ll show you.”

  We walked back to the main entrance and entered the greeting area. “There are so many Victorian and Regency pieces in my father’s collection. We’ll display them here along the wall and in various parts of the house. The rest of the pieces I’ll donate to the local museums. Art was meant to be seen by the public, not hoarded in a vault.”

  “Wow, you’re going to let your collection go?”

  “It’s not my collection. It was his and he’s gone now. I think he would like to know his life’s work is being appreciated rather than hidden away.”

  “I think you’re right.”

  “Speaking of art, the attic would make a wonderful shop for you to work on your own. Maybe we could get some of your own paintings up on these walls.”

  “That would be a dream come true,” I said.

  “That’s why we’re here. This place is all about making dreams come true, yours, mine, and ours.”

  “Okay, I’m in,” I replied.

  She threw an arm around me and hugged me tightly. “I can’t wait to move into our room.”

  “I’m sure this place has a master’s somewhere.”

  She planted a kiss on my cheek. “I’d prefer Libby’s old room, but it’s the hottest selling room in the house.”

  “She can come visit us. We’ll just be down the hall,” I joked.

  “That’s true. We’re all three going to be so happy together,” she said with a wink.

  “It’s settled then, we’re doing this?”

  “If you’re on board, we definitely are.”

  “I just want to be wherever you are,” I told her.

  “I’ll get Ryan on the ball and have him make the offer. Then we can tell all these people to get the hell out of our house.”

>   “Not so fast.”

  “I thought it was a done deal.”

  “It is, but we should keep the staff. I mean, really, you and I running a restaurant? We’d have two dishes on the menu between us.”

  “Don’t worry. We’re absolutely keeping the staff,” she laughed.

  “I should hope so. I don’t see you cleaning rooms and changing bed sheets, either,” I said.

  “I could learn.”

  “Corrine?”

  “All right, the rest of the staff stays, too.”

  “I think that’s a wise decision.”

  “It won’t leave for much in the way of privacy,” she said.

  “I know that’s a big issue for you. Can you get used to it?”

  “As long as you promise we’ll have enough alone time.”

  “Don’t worry, we can always go fool around in the stables.”

  “A roll in the hey, huh? That sounds like fun.”

  “In the meantime, there’s that fantasy of mine about you and me in the back of a limo. That should keep us busy on the drive back.”

  “Good idea. We should get started. It’s a long drive.”

  “I’m counting on it,” I said with a happy sigh.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Corrine

  The owners of the Harper mansion took my offer with no hesitation. I was willing to pay far above the listed value. It was a no brainer for them. Ryan was right. The gallery sold at a decent price, despite the recent three million dollars’ worth of humiliation it had recently endured. All the society pages heralded my father’s collection being donated to museums around the world as a selfless act of philanthropy on his behalf. His name would not be forgotten and would remain forever cast in a good light. I was free to move on and build my own name, or even to let it fade away into oblivion.

  “I think you should capitalize on the McDowan name,” Katrina said not long after we’d moved into our new home.

  We were in the attic. I was lying on the same sofa I’d posed on when we’d first started my portrait. The attic had turned out to be her favorite place in the house. We’d transformed it into a spacious studio for her to create whatever inspired her. The light shone in beautifully from the French windows and gave her an inspiring view of the grounds.

  “Why would I want to put my name back out there? I’m enjoying the peace and quiet we’ve found here,” I said, sitting up to take a break. Lying perfectly still was harder than it sounded.