“Good. It's about time. I'm glad you've had someone taking care of you since you refused to let me do it.” I shivered. My coat was meant for traveling. Not for standing around in the snow.
“She was looking for an excuse to have me at her beck and call,” Dad explained, trying to make the fact that he was dating someone sound logical and rational. Love was neither of those things.
I shook my head. “I have to go get my luggage.”
“It's already here,” Dad said, motioning to a man bringing it toward us. “The benefit of flying your own plane is that yours is the first bag off every time.”
I chuckled, glad to see my dad in such good spirits. I didn't know if it was the pacemaker or Jackie, but either way, he seemed happier than he had in a long time.
“You look great by the way. All tan and, well, there's a sparkle to you,” Dad said, insisting on dragging my suitcase behind him. I made sure he had the lighter one, but I didn't tell him that. “I want to know all about the rest of your trip. Did you get to spend much time with Mr. Belrose?”
I tightened at his name, my heart skipping a beat. Blue-gray eyes and a smile that lit up like the sun flashed through my mind. “Yeah, I did. He and I actually became... friends.”
I hesitated at the last word, unsure of how to define him. I certainly wasn't ready to tell my father that we had been anything more than companions, but I wasn't sure what to even call him in my own head. It didn't really matter anyway. I had pushed him away because I didn't deserve him. Friend or otherwise.
“Friends?” Dad repeated, raising a brow. “Interesting. Tell me more.”
“Um, well...” I hadn't thought about how I was going to get around telling Dad that I spent a week alone with Bastian in his mansion. I decided just to go for it. Hopefully, he would just assume that I worked the whole time. “It was just him and me after you left. I mostly worked, but we would eat dinner together sometimes.”
“That sounds very cozy,” Dad replied. He seemed to take my words at face value and I was glad. I didn't want to get into what kind of friendship Bastian and I had. Just thinking of Bastian hurt. “What about that beach? Did you get any relaxation time?”
“A little- I learned how to paddle-board while I was there.” I thought of Bastian again, laughing as he fell off the board trying to teach me a trick. I wished our story could have ended differently, but I had to go home. Jackie waved to me from inside the car as we approached. She had on the cutest little knitted hat and a great big grin. I waved back.
“You glad to be home?” Dad asked, watching me closely. I paused and took a deep breath in of cold, mountain air. It ached in my lungs and my nostrils burn.
“Yeah.” I smiled at him, letting the breath out in a slow cloud of steam. “I'm glad to be home with you.”
At least that much is true, I thought. I did want to be home with Dad, it was just that I wanted to be with Bastian more.
Sunrise Kisses: Chapter 24
I plopped the groceries onto the counter and stared at them for a moment, trying to summon the energy to put them away. Usually, I loved putting groceries away. The act of organizing and filling my fridge and pantry always seemed to make me feel ready to tackle anything that might come my way. But not today.
I stared at the sliced cheese and thought of Bastian's grilled cheese. The tomatoes made me think of him. So did the bacon. Everything in my bags reminded me of him somehow and how far away he was. Four days away from him and he was still all I could think about. I wished I could hear his voice.
But he was respecting my wishes and leaving me alone. Just as I had asked. I hated it.
“You okay, Ava?” Jackie asked, coming into the kitchen. She frowned slightly and pushed her short gray hair out of her bright blue eyes. “Want some help?”
I smiled. “That would be great.”
She came over and began efficiently taking all the food out and putting it right where it belonged. Even though Dad was long past needing an overnight sitter, Jackie had been staying at the house. I rather liked her here. Dad and I had moved into this house after Mom died and it had always felt like it was missing something. Now that Jackie was here, I realized that what it had been missing was Jackie. She was meant to be here. With Dad. I was now the piece that was missing.
“Oh, there's some mail for you on the table,” Jackie informed me, putting the tomatoes in the sink to wash. “I can finish up in here if you want.”
“Thanks,” I said, knowing that I hadn't done anything to help put stuff away in the first place. I smiled at her and wandered out to the living room. Dad was sitting in his recliner watching some history show on TV. I shook my head and went to pick up my mail.
In addition to the usual assortment of bills, advertisements, and random coupons, there was a large, professional-looking envelope. I set the rest down on the messy table, deciding to open the interesting envelope first, since whatever was inside of it had to be more fun than an electric bill.
The letter inside was on heavy, high-end paper. It reminded me more of a wedding invitation than actual letterhead, but it was obviously business related. I leaned up against the wall and began to read.
Dear Miss Ava Fairchild,
I am contacting you today to request your professional appraisal services for a piece of art. I have recently acquired two impressionist paintings and wish to sell them. However, due to their historical nature, I am in need of further reference as to the appropriate buyer.
I grinned. Maybe this was something that could take my mind off of Bastian.
The pieces in question are one by Claude Monet, as well as a smaller piece by Berthe Morisot, both with photos attached. There are several museums and several other interested buyers, but due to a lack of time and knowledge I am unable to determine the best location for this artwork. As such, I am requesting your services.