CHAPTER SIX
The next day, Stan parked his truck in Mia’s driveway. From the moment Annabelle had woken, she hadn’t stopped talking about visiting Mia’s studio. Now that they were here, even he was curious about what they would see.
After his daughter had gone to bed last night, he’d searched for Mia on the Internet. He’d found a couple of articles about exhibitions where her work had been featured and an interview she’d given to the Bozeman Chronicle. But it was the photos of her paintings that had surprised him.
In one canvas, swirls of color blended together to create a stunning landscape. He didn’t know how she’d painted such an incredible canvas, but he was looking forward to finding out.
Annabelle opened the truck door. “Mia must have seen us coming. She’s waiting on the porch.”
He looked across the yard at the woman who was as breathtaking as her paintings. Her smile reminded him of the setting sun—full of the joy of a day well lived and the promise of another to come.
By the time he’d locked his truck, Annabelle was already standing on the porch, talking nonstop. He had to admire Mia. She patiently listened to his daughter, smiling when Annabelle’s enthusiasm bubbled over into a spontaneous hug.
He stood below them on the bottom stair, grateful to be here and happier than he’d been in a long time.
When Annabelle ran out of words, Mia glanced at him and smiled. “I think I’ll have to show Annabelle my studio before lunch. Is that okay with you?”
“She’s not the only one who’s been looking forward to seeing your paintings.”
“Dad googled you last night. He showed me two of your paintings. They are amazing.”
Mia’s eyebrows rose. “I don’t know whether to be flattered or worried. You might be disappointed when you see the paintings in my studio.”
“I don’t think that’s possible,” Stan reassured her. “Annabelle’s right. You’re a talented artist.” The soft blush on Mia’s cheeks made him sigh. If he were a betting man, he’d almost think she didn’t know how good her paintings were.
Mia waved them through her front door. “My studio is at the top of the stairs.”
Annabelle bounded ahead of them.
“Not so fast,” he warned his daughter. “You might bump into something.”
“She’s okay,” Mia said softly. “The canvases I’m working on are on the far side of the room. The only thing she might upset is Mr. Renoir.”
Stan smiled. “You have a famous artist in your studio?”
“Almost. I found Mr. Renoir behind granddad’s gallery. He’s the scruffiest cat I’ve ever seen.”
“And you still brought him home?”
Mia grinned. “I didn’t have a choice. I fell instantly in love with him.”
Stan had never envied a cat, but he was getting closer by the minute. “He’s a lucky cat.”
Mia’s blush deepened. “We’d better go upstairs before Annabelle wonders where we are.”
Before he forgot, he held out a basket. “We stopped at the French bakery on our way here. We bought croissants and pastries for lunch.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“It’s the least we could do. I appreciate you showing us your studio.”
“I don’t mind. It’s nice to have human company.” She looked inside the basket. “These look delicious. Thank you.”
There was no logical reason for the rush of pleasure her words gave him, but it was there all the same. “You’re welcome.”
“I love your paintings,” Annabelle said from the top of the stairs.
“I’m glad.” Mia left the basket on the hall table and walked upstairs.
As soon as they stepped into the studio, Annabelle was beside them. “Why did you start painting, Mia?” she asked.
“I’m not sure why I started, but I keep painting because I like how my canvases make people feel. My mom was an artist. She used to say that I was born with a paintbrush in my hand.”
“Did your mom teach you how to paint?”
Stan heard the wistfulness in Annabelle’s voice, the longing that was never far away when someone talked about their mother.
“Mom told me I needed to paint what was in my heart before I painted what was in someone else’s. I didn’t take formal lessons until I was twelve years old.”
Stan could see his daughter thinking about what Mia had said. “Your mom sounds like a nice person.”
“She was.”
Mia’s voice sounded almost as sad as his daughter’s. She walked across to a portrait on the wall. Two people stood with their arms wrapped around each other. They were looking over their shoulders, forever smiling at the people watching them.
“This is my mom and dad. They died when I was ten years old.”
Annabelle’s eyes widened. “How did they die?”
Stan’s gaze shot to his daughter. “Mia might not want to talk about—”
“It’s okay,” Mia said quickly. “I don’t mind. Mom and dad were in a car accident. Mom died in the crash and dad died two days later in the hospital.”
Annabelle nodded. “My mom died when I was two years old. She had breast cancer.”
“That must have been a sad time for you and your dad.”
“I was only little. I didn’t understand what had happened.”
Stan stared at the portrait of Mia’s parents. Instead of seeing their smiling faces, he remembered the little girl he’d held in his arms. Night after night, Annabelle had cried for her mommy. It didn’t matter how many lullabies he’d sung or how many cuddles he’d given her—nothing made up for the deep, dark loss of her mom.
“How do you feel now?” Mia asked.
Annabelle looked down at her hands. “Sometimes I feel sad. Who looked after you when your mom and dad died?”
“I stayed with granddad. I spent a lot of time with him before my parents died, but it was different after they were gone.”
“Do you have any brothers and sisters?”
Mia shook her head. “No. It’s just me and granddad in our family.”
“I’ve got cousins,” Annabelle said. “And aunties and uncles. Sometimes we all get together and it’s super noisy.”
“I bet it is.” Mia stood in front of another canvas. “What do you think of this painting?”
Annabelle tilted her head to the side. “I like the blue and gray colors. They’re soft and dreamy. What is it?”
“It can be anything you want it to be.”
“Really?”
Mia pointed to the canvas beside it. “When I start a painting, I have an idea of what I think it will look like at the end. But sometimes, as I’m layering different colors and textures onto the canvas, the painting decides to tell a different story. Both of these paintings were like that.”
“Isn’t that kind of strange?”
“It’s magic,” Mia said with a smile. “My mom was right. If you listen to your heart, your paintings will tell their own stories.”
Annabelle stopped in front of a half-finished canvas. “Dad said you’re working on some paintings for your exhibition. Is this one of them?”
“It is. I haven’t finished the one beside it, either. But the first painting in the series is all done.”
Stan looked around the studio. A large painting sat on an easel on the right-hand side of the room. He walked closer, studying the intricate detail of the portrait. “Is this the first canvas?”
“How did you guess?” Mia asked.
“The same American Indian warrior is in each painting.”
Mia nodded. “Tell me what else you see.”
He studied the colors, the way the brushstrokes gave life to the portrait. Leaning forward, he peered at the painting. “The raw intensity of the landscape reminds me of Montana.”
Mia seemed relieved.
“Am I right?”
She nodded. “The warrior is Chief Sitting Bull. He was one of the great Lakota Indian warriors. I met his descendants last year. I had goose bumps when they told me about his life.”
Stan moved to another canvas. It was half-finished and showed Chief Sitting Bull standing on a ridge overlooking an enormous plain. His gaze was focused on the distant mountains, determination etched into every line on his face.
“What is he looking at?” Annabelle asked.
Mia stood in front of the painting. “In 1876, Sitting Bull and a leader of the Lakota Sioux, Crazy Horse, were part of the Battle of Little Bighorn. More than six hundred soldiers died in the battle, including General Custer. In this painting, Chief Sitting Bull is looking across the Little Bighorn Valley before the fighting began.”
Annabelle’s eyes misted over. “Do you think he felt sorry for the people who died?”
“Life was different, then. The Indian people weren’t treated very well by the American government. A lot of important promises were broken. Come and have a look at the last painting.”
Stan watched his daughter as she slowly walked toward the third canvas. Annabelle was tall for her age, standing almost shoulder to shoulder with Mia. With Annabelle’s gaze focused on the last painting, he could have left the room and she wouldn’t have noticed.
“He has a baby in his arms.” Annabelle smiled at Mia. “He looks happy.”
“That’s Standing Holy. She was Chief Sitting Bull’s daughter.”
Stan’s gaze moved between each canvas. The paintings spanned many years of Sitting Bull’s life. But each captured the essence of the man who led the Lakota tribe through a turbulent time in history.
“They’re incredible.” He hoped Mia knew how much he meant those words. “I feel as though I know who Sitting Bull was and what was important to him.”
Mia rubbed the palm of her hand. “You don’t think they’re too different from my landscapes?”
“They’re completely different, but they add another dimension to your work. You’re a talented artist and a great storyteller.” Mia’s uncertain smile made his heart ache. His daughter wasn’t the only person who needed someone to reassure her. “How long will it take to finish them?”
“About three weeks. I’m hoping to take a few days off work to concentrate on my paintings.”
Annabelle looked worried. “But you’ll still be at school for our workshops, won’t you?”
“I wouldn’t miss them for the world,” Mia said. “The next classes don’t start until after my exhibition.”
Stan looked at the unfinished canvases of Sitting Bull. “Are you sure three weeks will be enough?”
“It has to be,” Mia sighed. “I want to give them at least three weeks to dry before I send them to San Francisco.”
“You can do it,” Annabelle said confidently. “Mrs. Dodds is dad’s housekeeper. She always tells me I can do anything I put my mind to.”
Mia didn’t look any happier. “I’ll remember that. How about we go downstairs and have lunch?”
Annabelle took one last look around the studio. “Your mom would have liked your paintings. They’re beautiful.”
Stan followed his daughter’s gaze. She was right. There was something compelling about each canvas. But the portraits of her parents and Sitting Bull were more than compelling. Each stroke of her brush captured the soul of their personalities, the essence of the life they had led.
He couldn’t do anything to make Mia feel more confident about her work, but he could help in other ways. Even if it meant juggling his hectic workload, he wouldn’t let the hospital gala stop her from finishing her portraits.
***
Mia scowled at Steven Murdoch. She’d just spent the last ten minutes explaining why she needed to take three days off work. With his lips pursed and arms crossed, he wasted no time telling her how inconsiderate she’d become.
Yesterday, after Stan and Annabelle went home, she thought long and hard about her job at the university. She enjoyed teaching and seeing her students reach their full potential. But working with her manager was becoming too stressful.
As soon as she’d arrived at work, she’d booked an appointment to see him. Regardless of what might happen, she needed time away from the university.
She handed her manager the invitation she’d received from the gallery in San Francisco. “This is the letter from the John Williams Gallery. All I’m asking for is three days off work. Without that, I don’t think I’ll finish my paintings in time.”
Steven read the letter. His jaw clenched as he handed it back. “Part of being a professional artist relies on having the right attitude. If you couldn’t meet the gallery’s time frame, you shouldn’t have accepted their invitation to exhibit.”
Her heart pounded. “Are you telling me I don’t have a professional attitude?”
Steven’s eyes narrowed. After fifteen years of working at MSU, Professor Murdoch had learned a thing or two about staying out of trouble. “This isn’t the time or place to discuss any concerns I might have about your employment. I have another meeting I need to attend. Seeing the letter from the gallery hasn’t changed my mind. I’ll expect you at work next week, as per usual.”
Mia looked at the letter. She’d been so excited when it had arrived. When she’d told her grandfather, his smile would have lit the state of Montana for a week. But that had been eight months ago.
With trembling hands, she slid the letter into its envelope. “The exhibition is important.”
“I’m sure it is, but I can’t change the teaching schedule on such short notice.”
The scar on her hand throbbed. She took a deep breath, preparing herself for the words she’d agonized over last night. “You can change the schedule. I’ve seen you do it for other staff, but for some reason, you won’t do it for me.”
“Your request isn’t the same as anyone else’s. If that’s all you wanted to discuss, I suggest we both go back to work.”
Mia opened the notebook she’d brought into Steven’s office. She’d spent more than an hour writing and rewriting the letter she handed him. “This is my resignation. I’ll work until the end of the week.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’ve never been more serious. An opportunity to exhibit at the John Williams Gallery doesn’t come along often for new artists. I like my job at the university, but the exhibition could change my life.” Mia gathered her bag and the invitation Steven had handed back to her. “I’d like to let the rest of the faculty know that I’m leaving.”
Steven stood and followed her across his office. “I think you’re overreacting, but the decision is yours.”
Mia bit back the words she wanted to say. Steven Murdoch would never understand her. “I’ll send a copy of my resignation to the personnel office. If you need me to fill in any paperwork, you can leave it on my desk. I’ll do it tomorrow.” She opened the door and walked into the office she shared with the rest of their faculty.
The beige walls, gray furniture, and overstuffed shelving had been her sanctuary for five years. She didn’t know what the future held, but it couldn’t be worse than where she’d come from.
***
Claire rushed into Angel Wings Café. “Tell me you didn’t resign.”
The cup in Mia’s hand wobbled. “How did you find out?”
“We’re planning Louisa Arnold’s engagement party. She said you announced your resignation at a faculty meeting this afternoon.”
Mia glanced around the café. It was just as well more than half the tables were empty. News traveled fast in Bozeman and a full café would have spread the news at warp speed.
“I couldn’t keep working at the university. I’ve been struggling to finish my paintings for months.”
“We should never have asked you to help with the hospital’s gala.”
“Don’t be silly. I’ve been thinking about resigning for a long time. The exhibition in San Francisco made the decision easier.”
Claire dropped her shopping onto the seat beside her. “What did your boss say when you resigned?”
“He was surprised. I don’t think he understands how important the exhibition could be to my career.”
“He understands more than you think he does. The John Williams Gallery has one of the best reputations in San Francisco. Your boss didn’t say no because there wasn’t any staff to cover your classes. He said no because of professional jealousy.”
The same thought had gone through Mia’s mind. “It doesn’t matter now. As of next Monday, I’m a full-time artist.”
“Have you told your granddad?”
“No. He invited me to dinner tonight, so I’ll tell him then.”
“He’ll be relieved that you’ve finally decided to focus on painting.”
Mia fiddled with the handle of her cup. “It wasn’t an easy decision.”
“I know, but it’s going to be okay. Your paintings sell for thousands of dollars. The exhibition can only increase your sales.”
A sinking feeling hit the bottom of Mia’s stomach. “What if it doesn’t? It was hard juggling teaching with painting, but at least I was earning a regular income. If I don’t sell any paintings, I won’t earn any money. My mortgage is still high and I have—”
Claire held out her hand. “Stop right there. How long did it take you to sell your last painting?”
Mia’s shoulders slumped forward. “Two weeks.”
“And how much money have you made so far?”
“That’s not the point.”
“Of course it’s the point. You’re worried about financial security. Your grandfather knows what he’s talking about when it comes to talent and you, my friend, have it in bucket loads.”
Tess refilled Mia’s coffee cup and slid another in front of Claire. “Is Hannah joining you?”
“Not today. She’s choosing decorations for an event we’re staging.”
“I’m jealous. Visiting your suppliers must be like stepping into an Aladdin’s cave full of treasure.”
Claire sipped her coffee. “It can be, but it’s also hard work. We want each event to be unique. Finding the perfect materials can be difficult.”
“You do a fantastic job,” Tess said. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help with the catering for the hospital’s gala. If I could have rearranged my bookings, I would have.”
Mia was confused. “What do you mean?”
Tess looked at Claire, then back at Mia. “Stan called me. The caterer was double-booked and had to cancel.”
Claire’s eyes widened. “When did Stan call you?”
“About half an hour ago.”
Mia picked up her cell phone and checked her messages. “He hasn’t called me. Did he say anything else?”
“No, but he sounded worried. I gave him some caterers’ phone numbers. I’m not sure what their Christmas bookings are like, but they’re worth a try.”
Mia didn’t know why Stan hadn’t called her, but that wouldn’t stop her from finding out what had happened. “I’ll call him now.”
He answered his cell phone straight away.
“Hi, Stan. It’s Mia. Tess said the caterer can’t provide the food for the gala.”
Stan sighed. “I was hoping to book another company before you found out.”
She would have smiled if she weren’t so worried. “It’s a small town. Deirdre confirmed our booking with the catering company before she left. What happened?”
“We didn’t pay the deposit. The caterer only had Deirdre’s contact number. When her messages weren’t returned, she took another booking for the same night. I’ve contacted three companies and only one caterer might be available. I’ve got a meeting with them in fifteen minutes. Would you like to come with me?”
“I’d love to. Where are they based?”
Tess handed Mia her notepad and pen. She scribbled the caterer’s address on the paper. “I know that company. Are we meeting Annie Bayliss?”
“You know her?”
“Her company provides the food for the exhibitions at granddad’s gallery. She’s a really nice person.”
“Let’s hope she has a gap in her calendar. Do you want me to pick you up?”
Mia shook her head. “No. I’m at Angel Wings Café with Claire and Tess. I’ll meet you at the warehouse.”
“I’ll bring a copy of the menu. See you soon.”
After Stan ended the call, Mia slid her phone into her pocket. “We’re meeting Annie in fifteen minutes.”
Claire lifted Mia’s bag off the floor and handed it to her. “Let me know what she says. If she can’t help, we’ll come up with another plan.”
“Annie wouldn’t be meeting Stan if she didn’t think it was a possibility,” Tess assured them.
“I hope you’re right.” Mia hugged her two friends and left the café. Just when she thought she’d made her life a little easier, fate intervened and threw a wrench in her plans. But if this wrench came with anything close to the finger food and dessert they needed, she’d take it.
***
Stan showed his ID to the security guard who’d stopped him outside Annie’s business. It was just as well she’d warned him about the additional security. If he hadn’t seen the small sign telling him that her company was based here, he would have driven past the entrance.
He parked his truck and headed toward a woman standing in front of the building. “Hi, Annie. Thanks for meeting me on such short notice. Mia shouldn’t be too far away.”
“I’ve told the security guard she’ll be joining us. Let’s go through to my office. You can tell me about your event before Mia arrives.”
Stan followed her into the building. The interior was just as understated as the exterior. With wooden floors, white-painted walls, and a few plants scattered around the main reception area, there was nothing unusual about the space. “Can I ask you why there’s a security guard at the front gates?”
Annie smiled. “I share the warehouse with my husband’s storage company. The extra security is for his business.” She walked down a corridor and opened a door. “It’s usually a lot busier, but the admin staff have finished for the day. This is my office. Would you like something to drink?”
“No, thanks. I had a cup of coffee before I left work. What would you like to know about the gala?”
“You mentioned that you’re raising money for the new neonatal unit. Tell me about that.”
Stan sat on one of the chairs and opened his satchel. He showed Annie photos of the current facility and the architect’s plans for the new neonatal unit.
“I’m impressed. How far through the building process are you?”
“All of the structural work is complete. As soon as the painters have finished, the flooring contractors will arrive. We hope to have the new unit open by the middle of January.”
“That isn’t far away.”
“Which is why I’m worried about the gala. The grants and donations we’ve received cover all our building costs. The money we raise will be used to purchase high-tech equipment for the unit.”
“And without that money, you won’t be able to help as many babies?”
Stan nodded. “There are other equipment options we could consider, but our children deserve the best care we can give them. I’m confident that the gala will raise enough money, but we need a caterer.”
Annie’s cell phone beeped. She read the text and smiled. “Mia’s arrived and so has my husband. They’ll be here soon. Did you bring a list of the food you want to serve?”
“I’ve got it right here.” Stan opened a folder and handed her the menu. “We can change anything to make it easier for you.”
Someone knocked on the office door.
Annie grinned at the man standing in the doorway. “Come in, Dylan. This is Stan Lewis, the director of Bozeman Deaconess Hospital.”
Stan held out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Same here.” Dylan moved into the office and Mia followed.
Annie wrapped her arms around Mia. “It’s good to see you. I called into Nick’s gallery a couple of weeks ago, but you weren’t there. How’s everything going?”
“Busy. Thanks for seeing us so quickly.”
“You’re welcome. Come and sit down. Stan was about to show me the menu.”
Dylan stepped forward and touched his wife’s arm. “Can I have a quick word with you?”
“Of course you can.” She turned to Mia and Stan. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
While Annie was gone, Mia unrolled a large piece of card. She looked at Stan and smiled, sending his heart rate into overdrive.
“This is the only way I keep track of my life. Everything I’ve done, plan on doing, or want to do is on this chart.”
He leaned forward and studied the calendar. She wasn’t kidding. “You’ve even listed your appointments at the beauty salon?”
Mia touched her long, silky, hair. “My hair grows like you wouldn’t believe. Loretta books up quickly, so I plan ahead and never miss an appointment.” She pointed to the chart. “I copied everything from the files you gave me onto this calendar. Deirdre definitely confirmed the catering. The company was supposed to send you an invoice two weeks ago. I guess they sent it to Deirdre instead. I thought I’d go through all the other bookings and make sure they’re okay.”
“I had the same thought. Gina’s started contacting everyone. We don’t need any more surprises this close to the gala. How do you know Annie?”
“We met at a barbecue. Annie helps Tess and some other friends run The Bridesmaids Club.”
“There was an article in the Chronicle about them. Don’t they match brides and bridesmaids with donated dresses?”
“That’s them. Last year they gave away more than five hundred dresses.”
Stan was impressed. “That must take a lot of time to organize.”
“More time than anyone imagined. They’re thinking of employing someone to help them.”
Annie rushed into her office. “Sorry about that. Dylan’s competing in an Ironman competition next weekend and his flight to Denver has changed.” She glanced at Mia’s calendar. “I’m not the only person who’s busy.”
“I’m about to be less busy. I’ve resigned from my job at the college.”
Stan’s eyes widened. He knew Mia wanted to take a few days off work, but he never imagined she’d resign.
Annie didn’t hesitate to hug her friend. “That’s wonderful. You’ve been talking about resigning for so long that I thought you would never get around to it. When is your last day?”
“This Friday. I hope I’ve done the right thing.”
“Sometimes we need to take a leap of faith to see how truly blessed we are. Don’t worry. It will all work out.”
Stan watched Mia blink back the tears that gathered in her eyes. There was more to her resignation than he knew, more to her entire life than she’d ever shared with him. A part of him wanted to be the person she could turn to. The person who would be her safe place to fall. Another part was terrified of feeling that way again.
Mia took a deep breath and pointed to their menu. “Let’s talk about the food for the gala. Stan and I have to be at an art exhibition in an hour.”
Stan didn’t say anything.
Mia’s eyebrows rose. “Did you forget about the exhibition at Annabelle’s school?”
“I remembered. I even set the alarm on my watch so that we’re not late.”
“We’d better sit down, then,” Annie said. “You should both know that after Stan called me, I did a little reorganizing of my schedule. If we agree on a menu that can be prepared before the gala, I can help you.”
Stan’s legs nearly gave way. “Thank you.”
Mia’s sigh of relief matched how he felt. “What can we do to make it easier for you?”
With the menu in her hand, Annie ran through the list of options they’d chosen. “All of these items are fine, except for the seafood spring rolls. Could I provide beef canapés with cucumber sauce instead?”
Stan nodded. “I don’t have a problem with that. What about you, Mia?”
“Anything sounds good to me.”
Annie smiled. “I know what it’s like to be left without a caterer. But in your case, it’s worse than it is for most other events. It could have had an enormous impact on a lot of people’s lives.”
Mia opened her notebook. “I didn’t realize how true that was until I started helping Stan. The other day his secretary interviewed a family whose son was in the neonatal unit for two months. He would have died without the care he received.”
“I hope you’re sharing that story with the rest of Bozeman? Sometimes it’s the personal stories that have the most impact.”
“Our advertising campaign starts next week,” Mia assured her. “We’re hoping stories like Samuel’s will sell the gala tickets. Are you able to cater for about 280 people?”
“That won’t be a problem. I’ll call in a couple of favors from people I’ve helped in the past. I guarantee you won’t be disappointed.”
Mia smiled at Stan. “I’ve tasted Annie’s baking. Everything she makes is delicious.”
“How about I send samples to your office on Wednesday morning, Stan? You’ll be able to taste each item and let me know if you want any changes.”
“Sounds great. Can you be there too, Mia?”
“I don’t have any classes on Wednesday mornings, so that should be okay.” She wrote ‘sample food in Stan’s office’ on her calendar. “Could you work out a price for the catering, Annie, and let us know how much it will cost?”
“Sure. You haven’t included any hot drinks on your menu. Would you like me to provide coffee and hot chocolate for your guests?”
Stan glanced at Mia. Her nod was all he needed. “That’s a great idea. There could be a few teenagers there with their parents. They’ll appreciate the chocolate.”
He waited while Annie and Mia added the drinks to their lists.
“I think that’s all I need to know,” Annie said. “Stan’s secretary sent me the details of the gala and the required delivery times. If the number of guests coming to your event changes, let me know as soon as possible.”
Stan stood and held out his hand. “We will. Thanks, Annie. We appreciate what you’re doing for us.”
“I’m happy to help. And it’s even better that I was able to see Mia again.” She turned and hugged her friend. “When you’ve got some free time, come and see me. It would be great to catch up properly.”
“It won’t be for a couple of weeks, but I’ll definitely do that.”
They followed Annie out of the building.
“The barrier arm on the front gate will be down. Just let Arnold know you’re leaving and he’ll let you through.”
Mia gave her friend another hug before Annie said goodbye.
As they walked toward their vehicles, Stan took a deep breath. “I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders.”
“Me, too. We were lucky that Annie could help.”
Stan took his keys out of his pocket. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Sure.”
“Why did you resign from the college now and not in a few months?”
“When you saw my paintings of Chief Sitting Bull, you said that you felt as though you knew who he was and what was important to him. Granddad told me the same thing.” She lifted her chin. “I could have spent another year thinking about what I was going to do and still been no closer to making a decision. It’s time I focused on what’s important.”
“And focusing on your career as an artist is important?”
Mia sighed. “More than you could ever know.”
The alarm on his watch beeped. “We’d better leave. The exhibition starts in forty minutes.”
Mia rushed to her car. “I’ll meet you at the library after I’ve gone home and changed. Annabelle knows where to go.”
Stan frowned as she jumped into her driver’s seat and drove toward the security gates. Mia was like a mini tornado. Each time he saw her he felt as though he was being pulled closer to the center of a storm. And someday, he might be brave enough to tell her.