Every Way (Brush of Love 4)

“Styrofoam killing machines. That’s what we’re calling them from now on,” she said.

“Good. We need a bit of humor in this place,” I said.

I walked out back and showed Kelly where the storage container was. I pulled out everything I needed and showed her how to pack the paintings. I showed her how to do it with the first one and then let her do the second one. Then, I dumped everything out, and she repacked both of them. It hurt my heart to watch John’s paintings being packed away to leave for good, but I knew it was for the best.

John had saved my life trying to get me out of this shit, and he would be irate if he knew this was still blowing back on me.

I was shocked at how quickly Kelly was picking up on things. We locked the packed boxes in the shed to leave them for delivery in a few days and went back inside. Despite the fact that she had been late for her interview and seemed to have a flighty attitude in general, she was a hard worker and caught on quickly.

Plus, she was passionate about art education in the same way I was. And to me? That was invaluable.

“You want me to lock up today?” Kelly asked. “It’s almost six.”

“I’ve got it tonight. You go on home and get some rest. I’ll need you opening this place without me in the morning,” I said.

“Sounds good. Will you come in after lunch?”

“I’m gunning for just before, but I’ll keep you updated,” I said.

“See you tomorrow, then.”

Kelly left, and I continued to sweep up the floor. We had many visitors come in today, and the floor was disgusting. The good thing about a black floor was that dirt didn’t easily show up, but the bad thing about a black floor was that sometimes the dirt hid and collected more than I could imagine.

I was sweeping up the floor when the bell over the door rang. I figured Kelly had left her purse or something behind, a habit she had quickly developed. But when I turned around, I saw a woman I didn’t recognize standing in the doorway.

“Hello there. I’m sorry, but I’m closing up,” I said.

“Oh, I’m not here to purchase anything. I was wondering if I could stop in and see some of John’s paintings?”

That entire statement took me by surprise. No one who stopped in to see his paintings ever addressed him by his name. They always said ‘that artist you showcased’ or ‘the guy on drugs who painted.’ They were crude names, but I always knew who they were talking about.

“Unfortunately, John’s paintings have been removed so they can be cleaned up a bit. They aren’t currently showcased on the walls right now.”

It was easy for me to spit out that lie, especially since the woman held a shadow of a grin upon her cheeks. She was beautiful, if I set aside her questioning gaze, with long blond hair, piercing blue eyes, and a tall, thin frame with toned muscles that boasted of a strength most women didn’t have. She was obviously athletic, and as I continued to study her, a dreaded thought popped into my head.

Was she here because of Ben?

“That’s a shame,” the woman said. “I was hoping to reminisce a bit.”

“Well, if you’re not purchasing anything, you’re more than welcome to come in and take a look around. I’ve just counted the register and shut it down is all.”

The woman came on into the gallery and scanned her eyes along the paintings on the wall.

“I couldn’t get to John’s showcase a little while back. I was out of town on business. I was hoping to hug Bryan’s neck again.”

“You know Bryan?” I asked.

“From a different time in life, yes. My gosh, I can remember when he and John would run around at their family cabin. I’d visit them all the time up there.”

It was growing very uneasy with having this woman in the gallery. It was painfully obvious she knew Bryan and his family and for a very long time. I watched the way she walked around the gallery, the way she seemed to float instead of walk. Her shoulders were rolled back, and her eyes fluttered along the paintings, but there was something vacant in her stare.

Like she wasn’t wholly present in the art that surrounded her.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I caught your name,” I said.

“Because I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Laura,” she said.

“It’s very nice to meet you. Is this your first time in the gallery?” I asked.