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So, no wonder he was such a bore he spent the last years working with “headaches” to make his mom’s dying request come true. Not to mention pay off her debt.
His cell rang. He grabbed it. “Hi, Megan.”
“How did it end with Suzy?”
“She didn’t sign the contract, and I don't think she will. You might have a houseguest sooner than you wish.”
“Oh no, you must take her. She loves that cat. My husband is allergic to the poor thing. Plus, our place is small.”
He shrugged. None of this was his concern, but Megan was an old friend. “I did my best. Maybe you can get her to sign the contract. Until she does, legally, I can’t represent her.”
“But I’ll pay you.”
He chuckled softly. Megan did have a heart of gold, especially when it came to her younger sister.
“What?” she demanded. “You think this is funny? I tell you my husband is—”
“He’s allergic, but you can’t hire me to collaborate with your sister. For many reasons, the most important ones are Suzy is an adult and the artist.”
He sat down on the blue velvet couch in the art gallery. The couch was an antique from his grandmother, who had been such a light in his life as a child.
“Her work is brilliant. I tell you—” Megan started.
“I hate to break it to you, but many brilliant artists exist. The ones who make money are the ones who work hard. Suzy didn’t even have a portfolio.”
“But that’s exactly why she needs you. Please. I’m not just asking for her, but let’s not forget about the poor old cat. You wouldn’t want to be responsible for another homeless pet, would you?”
He swallowed hard. Megan sounded desperate and concerned for her sister. Although he certainly didn’t like cats in theslightest, he didn’t want to be responsible for this particular one becoming homeless. Wait a minute. This was on Suzy. Not him.
“It’s her cat. Besides, I can’t just force her to sign up with me, and neither can you. This is her responsibility.”
She sighed. “My husband will just have to suffer with the cat.”
“You do know you will only be enabling her and making your husband miserable at the same time.”
He almost laughed out loud. Look at the pot calling the kettle black. That’s exactly what he had done for years with his mom. Always solving her problems for her.
Maybe she'd still be here if he had let his mom hit rock bottom sooner and lost the art gallery. She might have started taking care of herself.
His mom hadn’t died from cancer but from poor health. It was sad and tragic. She died at age fifty-seven. Her death could have been prevented through diet and exercise. Not to mention medical intervention. By the time she finally went to the hospital with pancreatitis, her kidneys had completely shut down, and then she refused treatment to save her life.
Tears pricked his eyes. He abruptly stood. He had to get out of here. He refused to cry for the woman who had broken his heart his entire life. Even in the end, she refused to prolong her life. She was a selfish person who only cared about her art. Certainly not her only child.
“I’m sorry,” he said, clearing his throat. “I must go.”
He clicked off the phone. His actions were beyond rude, but he refused to show his emotions or cry over his mom. He swung open the back door and strode into the night.
He had no idea where he was going. He just needed to get as far away from his mom’s art gallery as possible.
***
“Are you still here?” Joann asked as the front door opened. “It’s late. Why are you not out on the town or at least home curled up with a nice book and Stinker?”
Suzy turned and smiled at the kind, older woman who owned the art studio. “Just finishing up.”
Joann walked over to Suzy’s easel. Her lips curled upward. “Oh my, this is quite beautiful. I feel right there within the lush trees and sunshine.” She placed her hand on Suzy’s shoulder and squeezed it. “Thinking of your mom, I see.”
Tears filled Suzy’s eyes as she nodded. “This was her favorite place besides the ocean. We even took her there right before she died.”
