CHAPTER FIVE
A week later, Mia stood in her bedroom as Claire and Hannah hunted through her closet. “I can’t go,” she said.
Hannah threw a pair of jeans onto a chair. “You’ve been painting until all hours of the night. You need a break.”
Mia sat on the edge of her bed. “What I need to do is finish my paintings.”
Claire held a red shirt in the air. “This could work. What do you think, Hannah?”
Hannah’s blond head appeared from behind the closet doors. “Perfect. Where are your black ankle boots, Mia?”
“I don’t know,” she muttered.
Hannah stuck her hands on her hips. “We’re not taking no for an answer. What time did you start painting this morning?”
“Six o’clock.”
Claire shook her head. “It sounds as though we’ve arrived at the right time. Thirteen hours is too long for anyone to be working on a canvas. Even Michelangelo had downtime from painting the Sistine Chapel.”
Mia snorted. “He probably had two stubborn friends as well.”
“We’re looking after you,” Hannah said. “That’s what friends are for.”
Mia appreciated what they were doing, but the last place she wanted to go was a barn dance. “Eating corn off the cob and line dancing wasn’t part of my Saturday night plans.”
“What were you going to do?” Hannah asked.
“Soak in the bath for at least an hour, then go to bed.”
“It makes perfect sense why you’d pass on a barn dance given that kind of excitement,” Hannah said dryly.
Claire reached into the closet. “You’ve had too many quiet nights at home. Here…” With a flick of her wrist, she spun a cowboy hat toward Mia. “This will look great with the rest of your clothes.”
“The last time I wore this was when you dragged me to a rodeo in Livingston.”
Hannah placed a finger on her chin. “Hmm. I think I see a pattern emerging. Are you allergic to country music, handsome men, and tight jeans by any chance, Mia?”
“I don’t have a problem with handsome men, but I do need an early night.” She rolled her shoulders. Each muscle in her back ached.
Hannah sat beside her. “What if we promised to bring you home in a few hours?”
“It’s for a good cause,” Claire added as she sat on the other side of Mia. “All the money raised goes toward Bozeman Middle School’s technology program.”
Mia looked at the clothes hanging over her chair. By the time she changed and they arrived at the school, it would be eight o’clock. A few hours of dancing and good food wouldn’t hurt her, especially after her marathon painting effort.
“Okay. I’ll come to the barn dance. But I need to be home by midnight. Otherwise, this Cinderella will turn into a zombie and chase you for the rest of your lives.”
Hannah leaped off the bed and handed Mia the jeans and shirt they’d found. “You’ve got ten minutes to get ready.”
Claire pulled the cowboy hat over Mia’s ponytail. “You won’t regret coming with us.”
Mia disappeared into her bathroom, hoping they were right.
***
Stan looked around Bozeman Middle School’s auditorium. Whoever had decorated the room had done a good job. With hay bales stacked against the walls, colorful banners, and a country band playing on stage, it was a great backdrop for the school’s fundraiser.
“You should try smiling,” Daniel said. “You’ll look less scary that way.”
Stan lowered his cowboy hat. “I’m hiding from Stella. For some reason she thinks I need a girlfriend.”
“Well, we are at a barn dance and the only person you’ve danced with is your daughter. Maybe she’s feeling sorry for you.”
“They weren’t the exact words she whispered in my ear fifteen minutes ago.”
“Really?”
Stan scanned the room. Thankfully, Stella was nowhere in sight. “I’m a wanted man.”
“Better you than me,” Daniel muttered. “Have you met Ryan Evans yet?”
“No, but I’m hoping you’ll introduce us.” Some days, it seemed as though the entire country knew that Ryan Evans, a country music superstar, had built his dream home not far from Bozeman. Whenever he performed at a festival or concert in Montana, tickets sold out within hours.
Daniel handed him a soda. “The cogs of your brain are working overtime.”
“Ryan could be a valuable person to know for our fundraiser.”
“You’ll have to stand in line behind everyone else.”
“How many months ago did you book him for tonight?”
Daniel leaned toward him. “We didn’t book him,” he whispered. “When he heard we were raising money for a new computer lab, he offered to perform. His publicist told me he usually has a ten month lead-in time for events.”
It was less than three months until the gala. The odds of Ryan helping them were so small that it almost wasn’t worth asking.
“It might not be as bad as you think,” Daniel said. “The hospital gala is right before Christmas. If Ryan’s spending Christmas at Emerald Lake, he might be happy to help.” Daniel glanced over Stan’s shoulder. “Looks like we’ve got company.”
His whole body tensed as he waited for Stella to pounce.
“Hi, Daniel. I wondered if you’d be here.” Mia smiled, then turned toward Stan.
He didn’t know whether it was the relief of not having to deal with Stella or simply seeing Mia that made his heart squeeze tight. She’d twisted her hair into a mass of dark curls. They tumbled over her shoulders and onto the cutest cowgirl outfit he’d ever seen. With her big blue eyes sparkling under the fluorescent lights, he was glad he’d come tonight.
“Your jeans and shirt suit you.” Stan clamped his mouth shut. Of all the things he could have said, that was the worst.
Mia didn’t seem worried by his clumsy compliment. She lifted her hat to her head and tipped the brim. “You can thank Claire and Hannah for my transformation. Before they arrived at my house, I was covered in paint.”
Daniel frowned. “You must have nearly finished your landscapes.”
A red-hot blush hit Mia’s cheeks. “I’m getting there. How’s Holly?”
“Scotland’s weather isn’t great, but she’s enjoying spending time with her dad. And talking about dads—Annabelle is on her way over here.”
Stan smiled at the plate of food in his daughter’s hands. “Don’t tell me you’re planning on eating all of that corn yourself?”
Annabelle rolled her eyes. “Of course not. I thought you and Mr. Sullivan might like some. There’s an extra one for you, Miss Costas.”
Mia’s gaze darted to Stan. “Annabelle is your daughter?”
Stan was just as surprised. “How do you know each other?”
“I teach an art program twice a year at Bozeman Middle School. Annabelle has been to one program and she’s registered for December’s classes.”
“Miss Costas is an amazing artist, dad. She brought some of her paintings to school.”
If Stan thought Mia’s face was red before, it had nothing on the new blush streaking across her face.
“It helps my students understand who I am and what you can do with a blank canvas.”
Daniel cleared his throat. “I’ve seen your paintings and they do more than that. You have a way of—”
“Oh my goodness,” Mia said quickly. “I didn’t realize it was so late. I said I’d meet Claire and Hannah five minutes ago.”
“They’re at the back of the barn beside the food tables,” Annabelle said helpfully. “I can show you where I saw them.”
Mia shook her head. “It’s all right. I’ll be able to find them. Enjoy the dance.”
And before Stan could ask what was going on, Mia disappeared into a group of people.
He glanced at Daniel. “Did I say something wrong?”
“I don’t think it was you. Mia’s got a lot happening at the moment.”
“Her paintings are going to be exhibited in San Francisco,” Annabelle said excitedly. “It’s a big deal.”
“How do you know about the exhibition?” Stan asked.
“My friend Mary Lou was in Angel Wings Café when Miss Costas told her friends.”
“Mary Lou seems to know everything that’s happening in Bozeman,” Stan said dryly.
“She wants to be a Special Agent with the FBI when she’s older.”
Stan’s eyebrows rose. “Really?”
“Yep. She’s even been on a tour of the FBI headquarters in Washington D.C.”
Stan wasn’t interested in Mary Lou’s career ambition, but he was interested in Mia. “Why didn’t you tell me that Miss Costas was your art teacher?”
Annabelle shrugged. “I gave all of Miss Costas’ notices to Mrs. Dodds. She said she would leave them in your office at home.”
“I must have missed them.” He’d been so busy that he hadn’t looked at anything beyond the hospital spreadsheets and financial data on his desk.
“Mrs. Dodds signed all the forms. We have an exhibition in the school library next Monday. It starts at six o’clock.”
“Was that on one of the notices?”
Annabelle stared at him, disappointment gathering in her eyes. “I wish you didn’t forget so many things.”
Her words cut deep. He tried so hard to be a good father, but sometimes he felt like a complete failure.
Daniel touched his arm. “I need to see one of the lighting contractors. I’ll introduce you to Ryan after he’s performed.”
“Sounds good. Let me know if you need a hand with anything.” He turned back to Annabelle. “I’ll make sure I’m home in time to take you to the exhibition.”
“Are you sure? Mrs. Dodds said she could take me.”
“That was nice of Mrs. Dodds, but I’d like to come.”
Annabelle nodded and handed him a cob of corn. “We’d better eat these before they get cold.”
He bit into the juicy cob, not tasting anything. “This is good.”
“I know. I had one with Mary Lou before I saw you.”
Stan wiped his chin with one of the napkins on Annabelle’s plate. “Have I told you how much I love you?”
“A million times.” Annabelle sighed. “Do you think Mary Lou and I could go with you when you meet Ryan?”
“Of course you can.” That was the least he could do. He’d been so focused on the hospital that he’d forgotten about the most important person in his life. From tonight, that was going to change. If it didn’t, he would have a very unhappy daughter and a stomach ulcer the size of Mount Rushmore.
***
Mia called herself every fool under the sun. If she didn’t tell Stan about her paintings, someone else would.
“What’s wrong?” Claire asked. “You look as though you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders.”
“I met Stan Lewis’ daughter. Her name is Annabelle.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“Not exactly. Annabelle was one of my students in the first art program I did at Bozeman Middle School. She knows I’m an artist.”
Claire pulled her across to a pile of hay bales. “Haven’t you told Stan?”
Mia shook her head. “He knows I teach art. He thinks I enjoy painting as a hobby.”
“Has he seen your canvases?”
“No, and I don’t want him to.”
Claire frowned. “Why not?”
“It was easier than telling him the truth.”
“You have to tell him.”
“What if he thinks I’m not the right person to help with the gala? He needs someone with event management experience. Most days I have trouble organizing my own life, let alone a major fundraiser.”
“Hannah and I were only supposed to stage the event. He asked you to help him organize the whole event after he met you. Without your help, the gala wouldn’t be happening.”
“Maybe, but there’s so much to do.”
Claire frowned. “Are you worried about your exhibition?”
Mia took a deep breath. “I talked to the head of the art faculty yesterday. I asked him if I could have three days off work to finish my paintings. He said no.”
“Can he do that?”
“He’s my boss. No one in our faculty has vacation time scheduled, but he said he couldn’t approve my leave on such short notice.”
“If you called in sick, he wouldn’t have a choice.”
“I know.” Mia watched the people in front of them. Everyone was finishing their supper and getting ready for the arrival of Ryan Evans.
“I can’t help with your manager,” Claire said. “But Hannah and I can speak to Stan. We need to explain why you’re working with us.”
“It wouldn’t help. All it would do is make him more worried that the gala will be a flop.”
“What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know what I’ll say to Stan, but I do know what I’ll say to my boss. I’ll talk to him again. I never take vacation time and I’m hardly ever sick. Taking a few days off work will make a huge difference to my paintings. If he still says no, I’ll have to find some other way of finishing them.”
Claire rubbed her forehead. “I’m sorry we asked you to help us.”
Mia wrapped her arm around her friend’s shoulders. “I was happy to help. If Deirdre were still the fundraising coordinator, it would be much easier.”
“Has Stan found a person to replace her?”
“Not yet.”
A cheer rang out from the audience. Almost everyone had found a seat.
Claire pulled Mia toward the last row of chairs. “Don’t worry about your manager. If he doesn’t let you have time off, I’ll call him and tell him you’ve got the flu.”
Mia knew it wouldn’t be that easy. She would have to be near death to make him believe she was actually sick. If Steven still said no after she spoke to him, there was only one way she would be able to take time off work—and it wasn’t an option she was ready to consider.
***
Stan wasn’t sure his daughter would be able to speak after Ryan Evans stopped singing. She’d clapped and cheered so much that he was surprised she could still yell for an another song at the end of the performance.
Not that she was alone. Most of the women in the audience were starstruck by the country singer’s dark brooding looks and great voice.
“I made the wrong career choice,” Daniel said from beside him.
“We both did. It must be hard having so many adoring fans falling at your feet.”
“From what Ryan’s said, it’s something you need to get used to. Otherwise, you’d never leave your house.”
“I’ve seen photos of his home. It wouldn’t be a hardship if I couldn’t leave his property.”
“Even the most gilded cage is still a cage.”
Stan smiled. “You’re getting poetic in your old age. Being engaged to an artist is changing you.”
“Don’t tell Holly. It will ruin my reputation as a straight-laced computer programmer.”
“Nothing could ruin your reputation. Holly knows exactly who she’s marrying.”
Daniel picked up another chair, placing it on top of the three he’d already stacked together. “I hope so. We still haven’t settled on a date for our wedding.”
“I thought you were getting married next April?”
“We thought so, too. But Holly has been invited to exhibit at a gallery in Berlin. The exhibition opens the weekend we were getting married. A pre-Christmas wedding might be our only option.”
Stan picked up the chairs in front of him. “Unless you’re planning on doing everything yourself, you’ll need at least six months to book everything.”
“And this comes from your vast experience as a bachelor?”
“It comes from helping to organize the hospital’s fundraising gala. I can’t believe how far in advance people plan big events.”
“I can. All I have to do is look at Holly’s schedule to see how crazy life can get. ”
Stan followed Daniel across the room with the last of the chairs. Annabelle was helping in the kitchen, so he’d offered to help clear this end of the auditorium. So far, the barn dance had been a huge success.
With the chairs safely stored away, Stan and Daniel walked back into the auditorium.
“Do you think the school has raised enough money to finish the remodel?” Stan asked.
“The ticket sales alone covered what we need. The other fundraising events the students organized will give them an even better lab.”
Annabelle walked toward them with a huge smile on her face. “Guess what happened, dad.”
“You made more than a hundred hamburgers?”
“No, but I must have been close. I just saw Miss Costas. She said I could visit her house to see her paintings.”
Stan looked carefully at Annabelle. “Are you sure she said it was all right?”
“She said that if it’s okay with you, we could visit her tomorrow. Can I tell her it’s okay?”
Annabelle was practically jumping on the spot with excitement. He didn’t want to disappoint her, but he knew Mia didn’t have a lot of spare time. “I’ll take you to her house, but we can only stay for half an hour.”
“That’s great. Thanks, dad.”
Before he could say another word, Annabelle shot across the room.
“She’s happy,” Daniel said.
“I just hope Mia doesn’t mind.” Stan tried to see where his daughter had gone, but there were too many people in the room.
“She wouldn’t have invited Annabelle if it wasn’t all right. You could always ask Mia to dance and find out for yourself.”
“I’ve got two left feet,” Stan muttered.
Daniel pushed him in the same direction Annabelle had gone. “It’s surprising how quickly you learn.”
Stan wasn’t so sure. “If you see Stella, keep moving.”
“I almost feel sorry for her. You need someone to blast you out of your comfort zone.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being cautious.” Stan’s gaze landed on his daughter. She was talking to Mia, gesturing wildly with her hands. If he began a relationship with anyone, Annabelle would be an important part of it, whether it was purely friendship or something more.
Mia smiled and nodded. That was enough for Annabelle to give her a hug.
Whatever plans they were hatching would have to wait until tomorrow. Tonight, they had a barn dance to enjoy.
***
Mia wasn’t sure that dancing with Stan was a good idea. She needed to tell him about her paintings, but being this close to him made her feel like a fraud.
“Is there something you want to tell me?”
She stumbled and Stan pulled her closer. If she didn’t tell him the truth now, he’d find out tomorrow. “I’m not who you think I am.”
“Sounds serious. Who are you?”
Stan’s smile wouldn’t last long once she told him she’d lied. “I’m not a contractor. I don’t know the first thing about managing events. I’m an artist. I paint large, abstract landscapes. If it weren’t for my granddad, I wouldn’t have offered to stage your event.”
“You haven’t worked for Perfect Staging before?”
Mia shook her head. “Not even part-time. Claire and Hannah are my friends. They needed someone to help them.”
“And your grandfather thought you were the best person?”
“My granddad thinks I can do anything.”
Stan’s eyebrows rose. “He sounds like a sensible person.”
“He’s Greek,” Mia muttered. “He’s the most sensible person he knows.”
“Why are you telling me this now?”
Mia sighed. “I need to finish two paintings for an exhibition. Between my teaching job and helping you, I don’t have a lot of spare time.”
“Are you telling me you can’t help with the gala?”
“Not exactly. If I work really hard, I should have the canvases finished in a week. All I need is someone else to be the main contact person for the gala. After next week, I should have more time.”
“I’ll ask my secretary to take all calls. Why didn’t you tell me that painting is more than a hobby for you?”
“It was easier than telling you the truth.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Most people think artists are disorganized and live in a different world from everyone else. The gala is important and so is my friends’ business. I didn’t want to disappoint anyone.”
Stan nodded and changed direction. “I have a confession to make, too. Annabelle told me about your exhibition.”
“How did she know about it?”
“She overheard you talking to your friends.”
Mia stopped dancing. “You knew I was a professional artist?”
“I only found out tonight. Why are you still working at the college if you’re being invited to exhibit in galleries?”
“I like my job at the university.” His steady gaze upset her. He knew she wasn’t telling him the entire truth.
“Annabelle doesn’t need to see your paintings tomorrow. We can see them once the exhibition is finished.”
Mia knew how much Stan’s daughter was looking forward to seeing her studio. “It’s okay. If you arrive around lunchtime, I’ll be having a break, anyway.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.” But that was another lie. She wasn’t sure of anything anymore. Working on the gala had complicated her life more than she thought it would.
The band finished the song they were playing and Stan stepped away from her. “Would you like a drink?”
Mia looked around the crowded room. “That would be great, but there are a lot of people here. The line for the bar will be huge.”
Stan pointed to the other side of the room. “There’s a lemonade stand over there.”
Lemonade suited her fine. She needed to be out of bed early tomorrow and even one glass of wine would give her a headache. “I’ll follow you.”
He leaned down and whispered in her ear. “I’ve got another idea.” Stan wrapped his hand around hers. “You’re so small that we’ll lose track of each other if you follow me.”
She tilted her head and stared into his brown eyes. “I’ve been finding my own way perfectly well up until now.”
“I know you have, but it’s better when someone’s beside you.”
The heat of Stan’s hand fused with hers, sending goose bumps along her skin. “Maybe you’re right.”
He tapped the end of her nose. “I know I am. Let’s get that lemonade before everyone realizes how good it is.”
As they walked around the edge of the dance floor, Mia kept reminding herself that she didn’t have to hold Stan’s hand. But the farther they walked, the more comfortable it felt. It was just as well Claire and Hannah were nowhere in sight. If they saw her with Stan, they’d think something was going on between them.
And it wasn’t. It couldn’t. Not for a long time.
Someone tapped her shoulder. She turned and her smile faltered. “Granddad? What are you doing here?”
Her grandfather looked at Stan, then down at their linked hands.
She let go of Stan’s fingers. “Umm, granddad…this is Stan Lewis, the director of Bozeman Deaconess Hospital.”
Nick’s eyebrows twitched. “You are Mia’s boss?”
Stan didn’t seem the least intimidated by her granddad’s unhappy glare. “Not exactly. We’re working together on the gala for the new neonatal unit.” Stan held out his hand. “It’s a pleasure meeting you. I’ve heard some great things about you from Mia.”
Nick shot a slightly less annoyed look at her. “She is my special girl. Perhaps you would like to tell me about yourself? I have a table at the back of the room.”
Mia knew exactly what her grandfather was doing. He’d want to know every small detail about Stan’s life. He’d keep asking questions until he knew exactly why Stan had been holding her hand.
She needed to keep her grandfather away from him. “We’re on our way to the lemonade stand, granddad.”
“I have lemonade on my table. Come, join Kathy and me. We would enjoy your company.”
“Stan’s really busy. He’s helping his friend with the barn dance.” Stan sent her an amused glance. Mia wanted to tell him that her grandfather meant business. If he thought someone was interested in her, they were given the third degree—Greek style.
Instead of doing what any sensible male would have done, Stan ignored her.
“What about Annabelle?” she asked in desperation. “She might need you.”
“She’s helping Tess in the kitchen. She’ll text me when she’s finished.”
Her grandfather’s smile made Mia groan. Stan didn’t know what he’d started.
“Come, Stan. I will introduce you to my friend, Kathy. We can get to know each other a little better.”
Mia slowly followed her granddad. After tonight, she wouldn’t have to worry about helping with the gala. Stan would run a mile from her and her crazy grandfather.
***
“I like your granddad,” Annabelle said as she opened the door of her dad’s truck. It was after ten o’clock and everyone was going home from the barn dance. “He’s nice.”
Mia handed Annabelle the box of cupcakes that Tess had given her. “He likes you, too.”
“Do you think he meant it when he said I could visit him in his gallery?”
“I know he did. Don’t forget to go into his workroom with your dad. It’s amazing.”
Annabelle pulled on her seatbelt. “This is the best night ever.”
The amused glance that Stan sent Mia made her smile. Nick’s inquisition had turned to delight when Annabelle joined them. They’d talked about Annabelle’s friends, what she was doing at school, her art classes, and the galleries she’d visited.
Stan had earned extra points for taking his daughter to the gallery Nick used to curate in Manhattan.
For Mia, it was wonderful seeing her granddad so happy. She didn’t know if the sparkle in his eyes was because of Annabelle or because Kathy was sitting beside him.
Stan opened her door. “That was better than I thought it would be.”
“Do you mean the barn dance or talking with granddad?”
“The barn dance,” Stan said. “Although Nick had me worried for a few minutes. Does he ask everyone if they have Greek relatives?”
A wave of heat hit Mia’s face. “Granddad thinks I should find a good Greek man to marry. He keeps reminding me that I’m not getting any younger.”
“Do you know any good Greek men?”
“No, but it hasn’t stopped granddad from playing matchmaker.” Mia pulled on her seatbelt while Stan got into the truck.
Annabelle leaned forward. “Dad said I can’t date anyone until I’m twenty-three years old.”
Mia smiled. “How do you feel about that?”
“I don’t mind. Mary Lou had a boyfriend at the beginning of the year, but it didn’t last. She said he was too selfish.”
“That’s why you don’t date anyone until you’re twenty-three,” Stan said. “By then, everyone knows the type of person they like.”
Mia glanced over her shoulder.
Annabelle looked confused. “What type of person do you date, Miss Costas?”
She didn’t know what to say. “Umm…well…I like men who are kind and happy.”
Annabelle’s frown deepened. “Is that all?”
“It might sound as though they’re only small things, but they’re important.”
“My dad is kind and happy. You could date him.”
Stan’s foot slipped off the accelerator. “Mia works with me, Annabelle.”
“That’s a good thing, isn’t it? Miss Costas can get to know you because you never go on dates.”
Mia glanced across the truck. For some reason, the blush on Stan’s face made her smile. It was no wonder her grandfather and Annabelle had gotten along so well. They were as bad as each other.
“You don’t have to date someone to be happy,” Stan said.
“Oh.” Annabelle looked at Mia, then back at her dad.
Mia had a feeling she knew what Annabelle was going to say next.
Apparently, so did Stan. “When do you want to visit Mr. Costas’ gallery, Annabelle?”
He couldn’t have chosen better words to divert his daughter’s attention.
Annabelle bit her bottom lip. “We can’t go on Monday because we’ll be at my school’s art exhibition. On Tuesday, Mrs. Dodds is taking me to The Beauty Box for a haircut. What about on Wednesday?”
“I’ll check my schedule when we get home, but I think it will be okay.”
Mia turned around. “You could take some of your paintings to show granddad.”
Doubt clouded Annabelle’s eyes. “He might think they’re too babyish.”
“You’re a wonderful artist. He’d love seeing them.”
Annabelle sat back in her seat. “I could take the ones I painted when we went to Bridger Bowl. What do you think, dad?’
“That’s a great idea.”
Stan stopped for a set of lights, then turned into Mia’s street. She was thankful for the ride home. In more ways than one, it had been a long night—and it would be an even earlier morning.
“What have you planned for tomorrow?” Stan asked.
“Apart from seeing you and Annabelle, I’ll be painting all day.”
“That sounds like the best kind of day,” Annabelle said. “I can’t wait to see your studio.”
“I used to say the same thing to my mom. Spending time in her studio was like being in a different world.”
Stan glanced at her. “Did you paint when you were there?”
“I painted everywhere I went.”
“I do the same thing,” Annabelle said happily. “Dad calls me his little Picasso.”
Stan slowed down, stopping in front of her apartment.
She pulled off her seatbelt and smiled. “Thank you for the ride home. If it’s okay with your dad, Annabelle, you can call me Mia.”
“Dad?”
“It’s okay. But when Mia’s at school, you still have to call her Miss Costas.”
“I’ll remember. Do you want me to send you the photos that Mr. Costas took, Mia?”
“That would be great. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Mia slid out of the cab and waved. “Drive safely.”
“We’ll be here at about twelve o’clock,” Stan said.
“Okay.” She closed her door and watched him drive away. She didn’t know how he managed to balance being a dad with a demanding job, but somehow he’d made it work. Annabelle was one of the nicest eleven-year-olds she’d ever met. She was happy and always willing to help someone else.
Tonight’s exhibition had been a great way to celebrate the end of her first art program at Annabelle’s school. The students and parents had enjoyed themselves, and that was the most important thing.
With a sigh, she walked up her driveway and opened her front door. She thought about her own exhibition, the hours of work still ahead of her.
Neither Claire, Hannah, or her grandfather would be impressed if she changed into her jeans and T-shirt and painted for a few hours. But luckily, none of them were here.
With a happy spring in her step, she rushed upstairs and into her bedroom. She would only paint until midnight, maybe one o’clock if everything were going well.
And then, if she set her alarm, she’d be awake by six o’clock tomorrow morning, eating breakfast between brushstrokes. The only thing that could make life better was an extra month before her exhibition. But hoping for that was no better than wishing on a star.