“Yeah, and after Dad’s fall and the complications following, this place felt like home to me. Over the years I bought each apartment as it became available until I owned them all. Then I converted the top floor into my studio space.”
“It’s lovely. Family is important to you, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. It’s everything. I just don’t have any left.”
“Well, you’ll build your own one day, assuming you want to get married and have children of your own.”
“I hope to.” He could see that with someone like her.
She looked like she was thinking about something, but he held back the temptation to ask what it was.
“You know,” she finally said, “I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”
“Anything. Shoot.” He sat waiting, and she looked hesitant.
“My niece will be two this summer.”
“Carina’s daughter?”
“Mmhmm. My only niece. I’ve been racking my brain trying to come up with the perfect gift. I know she’s only two, but I want it to be special. You know, something lasting and memorable.”
“Cool. I get it. What were you thinking?”
“I thought you would understand. So here’s my idea, and you can totally say no. I hope this doesn’t offend you. Is there any way, and I know you’re super busy and have important things going on, but could I pay you to paint a mural in Chloe’s playroom?” She gritted her teeth, looking almost sorry that she’d asked.
He could picture working with her on the project and couldn’t think of a better way to spend his time. He loved the idea. He looked her squarely in the eyes and said, “No.”
Surprise registered on her face. “Oh, okay,” she said apologetically. “I know it was a big ask. Just forget I ever said anything.”
“I’d love to paint that mural for your niece, but I won’t allow you to pay me for it.”
“No. Matthew, your work is your career. I have to pay you. Everything has a price and your time is worth something.”
“You’re right. My time has value.” He thought about it for a second. “And I’d like to spend more of it with you, so I’ll do your mural for you, but with your help.”
“What?” she sputtered. “Are you crazy? I can’t paint. I can’t even draw a stick figure.”
“You don’t need to. I’m sure you’ve done a paint-by-numbers before.”
“Who hasn’t? I might even still have my Misty of Chincoteague poster on black velvet that I painted in the sixth grade somewhere in the attic at Mom and Dad’s.”
“I’ll draw it, and I’ll guide you on what to paint. Believe me, you can do this, and—” he held up his finger, asking her to hang on because he could already tell she was getting ready to argue. “And it will mean a thousand times more to Chloe if she knows that her Aunt Whitney painted itwithme.”
She put her elbow on the table and pressed her hand to her cheek, nearly sulking, and even that was endearing.
“We’ll have fun.” He touched her arm. “Come on. Let’s do this together.”
She hesitated.
“I’m not asking you to jump out of an airplane.” He held his hand up, using an imaginary paintbrush to draw a tree in the air. “Just hold a paintbrush.”
“I don’t think it’s going to mean more to her if I help. It’s going to be cool, and that’s what she’ll love about it.”
“It’ll mean more to me,” he said. “I’d like to spend that creative time with you.”
She bit down on her lower lip, smiling but struggling with not getting her way, probably something that didn’t happen very often. “You better not let me mess it up.”
“I won’t. I’ll be your training wheels, your eraser, your whatever you need me to be.”
