CHAPTER SEVEN
Caitlyn
I was exhausted after crying on my way home last night, but still needed to stop by the hospital to be with Gran. She didn’t look good at all. The hospital wouldn’t release her, and she didn’t really look like she wanted to leave. I didn’t have the heart to tell her about Mr. Preston, and there was no need, she never had to know. She thought my tears were for her, and many of them were. I felt overwhelmed by everything, so when I got home, I plopped down on the couch and stared at the wall.
I woke there in the morning, still exhausted and in a pain-saturated haze. It was my off day from both jobs, so I piddled around the house, alternately missing Gran and going outside to tend her crazy flowers. I was getting ready to go back to the hospital when my cell phone rang. I wanted to ignore it, but couldn’t because of any possible news about Gran.
“Hello.”
“Caity, it’s Miguel from City Gallery.”
“Oh, hey. I’m sorry I haven’t come by to get my paintings yet. Gran is in the hospital, and I completely forgot. I’ll come get them this afternoon.” Wow, I really let that slip my mind.
I had a gallery showing a few weeks ago and everyone I knew attended. It was an amazing night. I felt like I had accomplished something. It was an exhibition with other up-and-coming artists and was quite the affair with wine, cheese, and swanky, cool people. There was a lot of interest in my work, and some attendees were interested in a few pieces, but as it was an exhibition, the gallery wasn’t selling them that night. Besides, Gran made it quite clear to everyone that they were all hers. She owned all of my work. She did, sort of. She was obsessed with my work. I didn’t want to sell the paintings, but it felt good that people wanted to buy them. It gave me hope that I could sell them one day if I wanted.
“That’s what I’m calling about. We’ve had quite an interesting offer I’d like you to consider.”
“What do you mean by interesting offer?” I needed details.
“A patron has made a bid to buy all of your paintings.”
My heart sank. A patron? A patron with enough money to buy all my paintings. I groaned. The bastard.
“Sorry, they’re not for sale, Miguel. Please apologize to the patron.” I couldn’t bear to have Mr. Preston own the part of my soul I’d poured into those paintings.
“He’s willing to pay a great deal of money for them,” he coaxed.
“I’m sure he is.” Sarcasm seemed to be my new favorite hobby.
“Caity, he’s going to give you a million dollars for them and he’s adding a significant amount for the gallery. Can you just say you’ll think about it before you refuse flat out?”
Anger rose and my fingers began to tremble. “I can’t be bought.”
“He’s a patron, you’re a painter. Buying and selling art makes it possible for the whole system to exist. That’s what painters do, sell their works. Who cares who they sell them to, and for a million dollars. Do you really think you’re at the million-dollar mark as an artist? That’s the dream zone, get real. Think of what you could do with that money and think about what that money will do for the gallery.”
“He’s stalking me, Miguel,” I confessed.
He plowed right over me. “He’s one of the richest movie producers in the world. You should be flattered that he’s taking an interest in you. I mean, you’re gorgeous, but gorgeous is his stock and trade.” He paused, his voice growing softer. “I’m not asking you to have sex with him.”
That hit a nerve.
“But, he keeps asking in his smarmy, seductive, stupid movie producer way,” I complained.
“You never have to say yes to anything you don’t want to do, including selling your work. I’m just trying to help you see the opportunity you might be passing up here. How about I give you a day to sit on it. I’ll avoid his calls for twenty-four hours, and you think this over. There is just one more thing to consider. Promise you won’t go mental on me.”
“What is it?” I asked, concerned.
“He wants to commission you to do a painting for him as well,” he nearly whispered.
“Hell no!” I was being unreasonable, I knew, but… shit!
“Just give it some time. Ask friends and your grandma and see what everyone says. Again, you aren’t agreeing to anything other than selling your paintings for a lot of money and taking a job. Also, if you don’t like the painting he wants you to paint, just say no.”
He had a good point.
“I’ll think it over,” I conceded.
“Good, I’ll call you tomorrow, and we can talk about this some more.”
As the line went dead, I sat in shock. I couldn’t believe that Mr. Preston hadn’t gotten the message. I didn’t want him in my life. I wondered what I’d done to make him so interested in me, because despite the fact that I wanted to hate him, whatever he was doing was working. I felt my heart rush, and I was heated and sweaty. His pursuing me with such intensity actually felt amazing. I couldn’t believe I was reacting the way I was. I sat there on the couch numb, tingling with disbelief. He was going to pay me a million dollars. A MILLION DOLLARS. Most likely, I would never see that much money in my lifetime, and there it was dangling in front of my face. I would be an idiot to pass up this opportunity, and yet my body was raging with conflict and confusion. All I wanted to do was cuddle in bed with Gran and just talk about nothing or watch one of her terrible horror movies so I could forget that my life was such a mess.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe there was something more to this man. Maybe even my own subconscious knew more about him and his potential than I did. Perhaps Google and all the headline news that penned him as a monumental asshole were wrong. Or maybe I was an idiot. There was no denying the magnetic sense of attraction I felt when he came waltzing back into the diner. God, my heart raced, and I thought I was going to throw up. He came back. A rich, gorgeous, and sexy man came back for me. It was so romantic until he opened his mouth, then it all fell to shit.
He came in wanting to sweep me off my feet like this was Pretty Woman or something. I didn’t need rescuing. I didn’t need his money, and I certainly didn’t need to sleep with him or anyone to get it. I guess that was what made me so angry. He just assumed that I would be so thrilled and overjoyed by the fact that he liked me, I would do whatever he wanted. Why did he want me anyway? Did he have a bet with another one of his producer friends that he could bag a beautiful nobody? Boom, there I was hating him all over again. I had to stop.
Once I got to the hospital and saw the pitiful shape Gran was in, I couldn’t bring it up. Couldn’t burden her with my stupid lovelorn longings when she was lying in a hospital bed hanging onto mere life. I decided to do what any good Scarlett O’Hara would and not think about it anymore today. I would simply think of a way out of this mess tomorrow.
With that righteous notion in my head, I drove home and headed straight to bed. I considered taking one of Gran’s sleeping pills so as not to have a night of incredible sex in my sleep, but then the idea kind of made me feel hot. I sort of did want another raucous night of lovemaking. That way, maybe I could start to like the bullheaded billionaire.
When I woke up, I was sad to discover I only slept, nothing more. No hot sex, no princely gestures, no wet panties… just sleep. It was for the best. I looked at the clock and realized it was time for me to go to the art center so I took a shower, dressed, and pretended like I was someone else so I wouldn’t have to face my life.
I called the hospital to check in on Gran, and she was sleeping comfortably which made me feel sad, confused, and unsure. Sleeping comfortably meant they either had her well sedated, or she was really sick, because she never slept comfortably in the hospital.
I didn’t have to go into the diner that day, so when I was done at the center, I planned on spending the rest of the day with Gran. The thought hit me. If I agreed to sell my paintings, I would never have to go back to the diner ever again. I could spend all my time with Gran and still work with the kids. This bastard, unbeknownst to him, may have afforded me the greatest of luxuries. Time with Gran when her time on this earth was growing short. I wanted to cry; my thoughts were in knots. What was this man doing to me?
When I walked into the Youth Center for the Arts, I was greeted by the program director who asked me to step into his office. He seemed happy, almost elated. However, I had a cold sense of dread shiver up my spine. What could he possibly want? I didn’t think I could take any more craziness in my life at the moment.
“Is everything okay?” I jumped right into the conversation.
“Everything is more than okay. I just wanted to bring you in here and thank you personally for all you’ve done for us. You’ve been such an incredible inspiration to the students. I hear nothing but praise and admiration for you and all that you’ve accomplished with them. Many of the students have told me how much you’ve inspired them. I’ve been more than impressed with your work, and I value all you do here, but when I got the news today about what you did on our behalf…” He shook his head, as if trying to clear it. “I have to confess, I am absolutely overwhelmed. I had no idea you were capable of raising this kind of money, and I wholeheartedly applaud you.” Tears actually welled in his eyes.
Oh shit, what did he do now?
“I’m sorry, what money?” I asked, bracing myself for the answer.
“I think it’s all well explained here in the note that Kembrough Preston emailed me this morning,” he remarked, obviously overjoyed.
I glanced at the email and immediately started to feel sick.
“To the Director of the Youth Center for the Arts Foundation,
I am sending a cashier’s check for five million dollars over by messenger within the hour. I would appreciate either you or someone able to handle such an item signing for the package. Also, if you could let me know when you’ve received the check, I would be ever so grateful. I was inspired by your employee, Caitlyn Ashcroft, and her undying commitment to the work you do. I am an avid believer that every child, given an opportunity, can reach the greatest heights of achievement with proper inspiration and training. I am very impressed with the work you do for the children of our community, and I wanted to help support your institution. I hope that this will assist your group in reaching out to as many students as needed. I intend to also discuss an annual scholarship fund for graduating seniors going to college. I would be happy to have my assistant arrange a meeting, please contact her at the numbers below. Give my regards to Ms. Ashcroft and commend her again for her loyalty, commitment, and care she gives your students. I must admit, I was very impressed.
Best Regards,
Kembrough Preston, KP.
I almost fell over. What was this? He hardly knew me. He didn’t know me. What game was he trying to play?
“We just got the check before you arrived. I’m amazed and so grateful. Thank you for speaking to KP on our behalf. We are all so excited, you have no idea what this will do for the center and our students, and future students. It’s mind-boggling, and all I can do right now is just say how grateful I am.” Now, he was crying.
Shit!
“Um, yeah. I didn’t really do anything, but this is amazing. I’m really glad. Now, we can get supplies and...” I was trying to show my excitement.
He continued for me, “Expand to include more students, maybe add a sports program.” His head was buzzing with ideas as he imagined all the money could afford them.
Me on the other hand, I felt like I was going to pass out. What did KP want from me? Surely he didn’t need to try this hard to get laid.
“It’s really thrilling,” was all I could add.
“Have you two been friends a long time?” he asked casually.
Bile surged into my throat, but I swallowed it back. “I hardly know him.”
“Well, he’s on his way over. I thought it would be nice if he met the kids and then we could thank you both.” His face flashed a kindhearted smile.
I died. He was on his way? From New York? Oh my god. Before I had time to pick myself up off the floor, I heard the tap of expensive shoes on the linoleum. My heart exploded. I tried to stabilize my breathing but couldn’t. Was it him? A few short moments later, the answer came walking into the office with the front desk attendant. I was breathless.
“Ah, Mr. Preston,” the director stood and shook KP’s hand, “it is an honor.”
The man of my dreams and nightmares extended his hand and accepted the handshake.
“Please call me KP,” he said coolly, then eyed me.
I smiled nervously. I wanted my smile to look cool and “piss-off-you-ogreish” but I just felt like I’d shit myself.
“Mr. Preston.” I nodded.
He smiled. His eyes met mine with the same intensity we always shared. It was if we had found each other over the millenia of time. While he angered me, his eyes were always comforting. When he regarded me, I knew there was something more in there, something no one else could see. I just doubted it. I was in no position to have any power over those observations though, I was too nervous.
“You too, please just call me KP. I prefer it,” he said kindly, without any note of lecherousness.
“Of course. Well, we are so happy to have you here…” the director went on to gush and guffaw, allowing me to step back and watch KP.
I think he knew that I was looking at him. He was tall and strong and always looked so well put together in his expensive suits. He oozed power and control. I tried to see past the plastic facade of a movie mogul who made people tremble, into a deeper place within him. A human place. I saw a glimpse, a tiny glimmer as he genuinely engaged with some of the younger kids. One boy in particular had a very visible burn scar on his face. KP seemed drawn to that boy and there it was, that tiny glint of humanity I was searching for. It was gone, though, after the boy darted off with some other children. Plastic-face-man returned.
The program director gave him a mini speech about what he was planning to do with the generous amount of money KP donated. As we walked around the buildings, he showed us what the students were learning. KP must have been bored out of his mind, but he never showed it, keeping a plastic expression of interest firmly planted on his face.
When we got to my class, there was a roar of excitement as the students greeted me. They all clamored around me, trying to show their work. A big assignment was due that day and most were eager to show me what they had been working on. I responded to them the way I always had, with enthusiasm and encouragement. To me, this was like every other day. A lot of the students showed tremendous potential. In fact, some were extremely gifted. I, luckily, was able to lose myself in my students, which helped me forget that KP was watching me.
When we were done with the students, the program director offered to take us to lunch but KP declined the offer politely and said that he’d already made plans. I felt both relieved and disappointed when KP kindly excused himself from our meeting. I was left unsure of what my next move might be.
I looked at the director and smiled. “I should probably get to the hospital to see Gran. I only had the one class today.”
“Sure thing, give her my best. And Cait, thank you again.” He smiled kindly.
“No problem.”
As I was leaving, I got a text message: Meet me outside – KP
On shaky legs, I walked out the front door to find him standing next to his Bentley, his driver at the wheel.
“Hello.”
I had to look away from those eyes and what they did to me. “How did you get my phone number?”
“I have my ways,” he said in a playfully sinister tone.
A smile played at my lips. “Oh.”
I was ready to surrender, only because I was tired of fighting him. I had been wrestling with my attraction to him for so long, I felt like giving him a chance to speak his mind was a fair thing to consider.
“Nothing too scandalous. Your business cards are at the City Gallery.”
Right, I had forgotten about those, stupid publicity and marketing department.
I decided to be honest but not unkind. “What do you want from me?”
“I want a chance to get to know you, that’s all.” He seemed equally as honest.
“Why?” I needed to know, once and for all.
“You fascinate me. And truthfully, outside of the fact that you’re gorgeous, I really don’t know why. I’ve been trying to figure that out.”
His attempt at sincerity might have been working.
“What do you want to know?” I sounded abrasive, even though I hadn’t meant to.
“First, will you have lunch with me?”
“I thought you had lunch plans.” Again, with the abrasive bitchiness.
I had to get some control over my feelings. He looked at me, deeply.
“With you. I made lunch plans hoping you’d join me,” he confessed.
“You didn’t need to spend five million dollars just to get me to go to lunch with you,” I scolded.
He seemed so nervous, it was endearing. “So, will you join me for lunch?”
My stomach twisted as all the emotions I was feeling churned around. “Yes.”
He blew out a breath. “Then apparently I did.”
I frowned and got my panties in a wad. With only a few words, I was ready to throw a verbal punch.
I laid into him. “I can’t be bought—”
He held up his hands, interrupting me. “It was a joke… just a joke. I spent it on the kids. It’s a good cause. I’m, um… I…”
Oh good, he was flustered.
“It was very generous. Where do you want to go for lunch?” I was nervous too, but ready to do this.
“I know a great place,” he said with a gorgeous smile that made his eyes sparkle.
The short car ride to the seafood restaurant was awkward at best. He offered me some water and juice from his mini fridge. I decided to make light of the amenity, rolling my eyes while I refused his offer.
“Why do you need a refrigerator?”
“I spend a lot of time in the car,” he answered as he braced himself for my attack.
“Why?” I asked again.
“I like snacks,” he playfully confessed.
I laughed despite myself.
“I mean, why do you spend so much time in the car? I thought a high-profile movie guy like you would spend a lot of time in the office.” I tried to act like I knew what I was talking about, but I had no clue.
“I spend more time than I would like in the office, but on the weekends, I drive out to Connecticut. My brother lives out there, and I see him every week. I have specific tastes and your average roadside gas station market usually doesn’t carry the types of foods I prefer.”
I gave him a point for maintaining his amicable demeanor.
“No seared salmon and caviar at the quick mart?” I teased.
He grinned. “Sadly, no.”
We went a few moments without speaking, which increased the tension and was making me crazy. I wasn’t sure if it was intentional on his part, as he was supposed to be such a schmoozer, but he might have been afraid of saying something that would have me jumping out on the expressway. Or punching him in the nose.
“You don’t have to buy all of my art, you know? In fact, you don’t have to buy any of it. I’m serious, I can’t be bought. I don’t work like that. If you want to talk to me, I’m here.”
“I actually love your art. I’m getting a bargain,” he said casually, again looking at me with those eyes that understood my very being.
If I was going to feel good about myself and how I handled this situation, then I shouldn’t act like a wilting flower one moment and a kick-ass Ninja the next. I had to get real with him. I had to get some answers.
“Why? Why me? Why my art? Did you make a bet with someone? Are you trying to see if you can My Fair Lady me into something I’m not? What’s the point of this crazy… whatever this is?” I was so ready for answers.
He stared at me for a beat as the car pulled into the parking lot of the most expensive restaurant in New Haven.
“I don’t really know, Caitlyn. Everything that comes out of my mouth sounds wrong, so I’ll be as honest as I can. When I saw you at the diner that night, I thought you were gorgeous and I wanted to do anything I could to entice you to come home with me. And yes, have sex with me. Since that obviously isn’t working out the way I planned, I wanted to get to know you better.”
I felt the need to interrupt him there. “You mean you stalked me.” I smiled and gave him a sneer at the same time.
He held up his palms. “How else would I be able to get to know you? You keep walking out on me. It’s the age of technology, stalking is so easy these days. You left me no choice.”
“Who said I wanted to get to know you?” I smiled to show I was mildly teasing.
“I’m famous.” He said it in a meekly playful way.
Okay. I had to laugh, that was ridiculous.
“Ah good, I got a laugh.” He did a fist pump, which seemed so totally out of character for him that I laughed again. “Score one for KP.”
The restaurant was amazing, as expected. We were seated, selected items from the menu, and I was at a loss for what to say next. I was relieved when he started.
“I love how you see the world. I’ve had a chance to look over your work, and while you have some technical refining to do, your instinct and natural talent are remarkable. Your paintings are worth what I’d pay for them if you allow me the opportunity.”
I started to interrupt, but he held up a finger. I snapped my mouth closed and nodded for him to continue.
“I want you to have the chance to paint without working at a place with sticky tables and grumbling coworkers. As for my donation to the center, I must thank you for that as well. I had no idea that so many children were being served by this community. Children are the future and most people just abandon the ones who are broken or who don’t meet society’s strict standards of perfection. This place gives children hope, encouragement, and a future. I didn’t really understand how important that was until I stalked you. Actually, I went so far as to read one of your graduated student’s Facebook pages and it was quite glowing and complimentary.”
It was my turn to hold up a finger and look him dead in the eye. “You know the stalking thing is a turn off, right?”
“Do you know who I am?” he asked softly.
“I don’t care who you are,” I barked.
“I didn’t ask if you cared, I asked if you knew,” he corrected.
“You’re Kembrough Preston, the famous movie whatever guy. Most people call you KP which I think is… never mind.”
He laughed. “See, you stalked me too.”
I bristled. “I didn’t stalk you. Everyone knows who you are. I actually didn’t know anything about you, but everyone else sure does,” I fired back.
“See, even you had a better chance of dating me than I did of dating you, because at least you knew who I was. I had to resort to stalking… you should feel sorry for me,” he fake pouted.
He got me again, and I laughed.
I forced myself to be serious again. “I still won’t have sex with you even though you donated money to the center and bought all my paintings, and I expect you’ll pay for this meal. Even with all of that, I’ll walk away with my virtue. Sex is completely off the table.”
“Well, if you take my offer to buy your paintings, I might expect you to pay for this meal.” He leaned forward, his eyes sweeping over my face. “I absolutely want to have sex with you, badly, but you’ve said no, so I’m obliged to honor your decision. I’m not into forcing women, nor am I into anything that involves whips and chains. If you think I’m fifty shades of anything, it’s simply selfish. I’m used to getting what I want.”
My lips parted and his eyes dropped to them. “Oh.”
“I’ve invited you to lunch for another reason,” he added, sounding like a businessman.
I cocked my head. “And that is?”
“I hope the gallery mentioned that I wanted to commission a painting.” He was still businesslike, but softened some.
I stiffened, still feeling skeptical. “Yes. And…”
He took a deep breath. He seemed off-center. It was weird to see this commanding and cocky billionaire look unhinged.
“You see, I have a younger brother. Our family has a lot of money. Actually, an unfathomable amount of money. We have these pretentious portraits in our great room and they are quite, um… impressive, I guess. We have one for every family member going back generations. Typical haunted mansion stuff.”
I smiled. “I’d heard that families of distinction actually do get portraits with their dogs and golf clubs and things of this nature. The painting is meant to be a reflection of the person and their interests.”
He nodded. “Right. It’s an unwritten law of sorts that each member of a moneyed family have a portrait prominently featured. Every one of my family members has had one or more portraits made, but him. I want his painted.”
“That’s weird. Why doesn’t he have a portrait?” I asked innocently.
“We’ll need to discuss that sometime in the future, if you don’t mind.” Oh, I hit a hot spot. Must remember that for the future: family drama.
“Why won’t the painter you’ve used in the past do it?” I asked.
“I want someone with your eye, your sensitivity, and honestly, I want my brother to meet you.”
“Is there something wrong with your brother?” I asked, hoping it wasn’t rude.
He sighed and his expression changed. Tenderness would probably be the best word. “Not wrong exactly, but he’s special.”
Our meal came and we dug in. He and I enjoyed the best wine I’d ever tasted, and by the end of our lunch, I agreed to do the painting. I also accepted his offer to buy my work. I wasn’t sure what I was getting myself into, but I was willing to take this adventure.
Throughout our lunch, KP had shown respect. He treated me with dignity and listened attentively as I talked about the inspiration for my work. I explained how my observations of people in society sparked my interest in expressing their humanity in a raw and sometimes dark way.
He smiled and said he hoped that I would find some happier inspiration soon. Of course, he was alluding to a possible relationship with him, but I let the comment slide. I hoped he understood that to mean that I still wasn’t interested.
I made sure to thank him for the opportunity to quit working at the diner. I explained the money would afford me the chance to focus my attention on Gran and shared her health problems. Maybe it was the wine, but I also opened up about school and how I’d been saving to attend.
“What about your family?” he asked.
“It’s not something I’m comfortable sharing,” I explained.
A tiny smile played on his lips. “Another mystery.”
“Can’t spill all the beans,” I teased.
“Or even one bean, god forbid,” he threw back at me.
I smirked. “You won’t talk about your family, and I told you about Gran,” I countered.
“True. I’m happy the money will provide you time to be with your grandmother and the opportunity to further your career. I’m excited to see where your talent will take you. Your paintings are going in my offices, one at work and the other at home. I find them inspirational. I hope they remind me to look at things with my heart rather than my ruthlessness, but I also pray that altering my temperament doesn’t bankrupt me.”
“Yeah that would suck,” I added, laughing with him.
“Suck? Yes, very much,” he said in a sultry way.
“Don’t do that,” I playfully warned.
His eyes narrowed. “Then don’t say words that might lead me down that path.”
“Resist,” I hissed at him.
He lifted a shoulder. “Fine. We’ll stay on topics like the weather and the painting you’re doing for me.”
“Exactly.”
He tapped his fingers on the table. “So, not only am I not having sex with you anytime in the near future, I also can’t talk about it?”
I threw up my hands. “Oh my god, you’re such a baby. Sex is like a fraction of what people talk about. There are a billion other things to say to one another. What are you? A sex maniac or something?”
“Not a maniac, no. I’m just very good at it, and also enjoy it a great deal. It’s great exercise.”
Exercise? He just said that sex was great exercise. What a piece of work.
“Exercise, really! Okay, I think this might be a good time to point out that this’ll be strictly a business relationship. Imagine if you asked Steven Spielberg about sucking anything… how would he react?”
“Well—”
“Think about talking to him like that. Not gonna happen, right? So then don’t let it happen with me.”
And that round goes to moi.
“But I don’t want to have sex with Steven Spielberg. I very much want to have sex with you. And maybe people don’t talk about sex. That’s people, not me. I talk about it a lot. I really like it, and I’d like to show you how much fun it is.” He eyes blazed, threatening to burn into my soul. “I could really, you know? Worship you. Make you scream my name.”
I was having a hard time breathing. “I know that sex is fun. I just don’t want to do it with you.”
Bam. I had this.
“Try it.”
“Oh my god. You think you’re god’s gift to everything. Just because you want me doesn’t mean I’m gonna drop my panties for you. I don’t want to have sex. I don’t want to fuck, get pumped, done, laid, bent over, or anything else. I’m sure it’s a lot of fun, but I get plenty of exercise. When I find someone who loves me and shares with me the kind of mutual respect and understanding that is uniquely crafted between lovers and soul mates, I’ll gladly make love to that person, every day and in every way we can. You, my friend, and I use that term lightly, are not that person.”
Whew… okay, there it was, all out on the table.
“I could be that person, you know.”
God, I wanted him to be that person.
“How about we just stick to the weather and painting,” I suggested and fiddled with the napkin on my lap.
He looked like he was going to argue, but nodded instead. We had reached a standstill and there wasn’t much else to say on the matter, and he knew it. The rest of the meal was quiet, and when we finished, he took me back to my car.
“I’ll have my lawyer draw up the papers for the sale. I should be able to have a portion of the money sent to you by this afternoon. You can work out how you’d like the funds deposited when my accountant calls you. Also, I know you’ll have to pay taxes on the money, so I’ve made one payment to charity for the gallery, a non-taxable gift, and the other for your services. I hope you don’t take that the wrong way. I just want you to get more of the million than the government. I give them plenty, trust me.”
I felt myself softening toward him. “Thank you, that makes good sense. I appreciate it. Your generosity will definitely make a huge difference in my life.”
“You’ve already made such a difference in mine,” he said kindly as the driver pulled next to my beater.
I didn’t know why I felt shy all of a sudden, or why I suddenly wanted to press my lips against his. I knew that kissing him might send mixed messages, but I felt compelled to give him something. Maybe that thing was a little hope, for both of us. I leaned over and kissed his cheek, not knowing what else to say.
He reached for me, but his hand stopped in midair. Slowly, it dropped to his lap. “Would you like to start working on the painting this weekend?” he asked gently.
I nodded. “I’d love to.”
“I’ll pick you up on Saturday morning, say eight?”
“That works.” The driver held open my door and I smiled and thanked him as I stepped out, then bent down to look at KP again. “Thank you for everything.”
His smile lit something deep inside of me.
As the car drove away, my heart fluttered, and I was glad that I’d be seeing him again.
He’d made an effort today. Baby steps were good. Despite myself, I liked him. I liked him a lot.
As I stuck the keys in the ignition and the old car roared to life, it hit me. I was a millionaire. It took a long time before I was steady enough to drive to the hospital and I wondered if Gran would even believe my story.