He could get used to this feeling.
He clicked through television shows, tried to read, dabbled with a painting, and finally went and sat outside and looked at the night sky. It wasn’t easy to see a lot of stars in the city, but with the high-powered telescope, it helped. One day, he’d buy a cabin on the top of a mountain just for such occasions.
The next morning, he went through his mail and made a list of everyone he needed to follow up with. A pile of them had stacked up while he’d been working on the mural.
He pulled up the newspaper article written about the mural he’d painted in Portland, Oregon. Over the years, he’d gotten pretty good at supplying pictures and enough details for the newspapers and online media to pick up the stories. Keeping his name out there was as important as the actual painting.
It was weird, though, how sometimes it was harder to get attention in your own hometown. It was like pulling teeth to get them to accept an article or announcement from him. He crafted a quick email mentioning the young artist he’d brought onboard by name, and details about his mission to refresh cities with art like this mural on the old Foster building. Hopefully, it was just enough to entice the curiosity of someone to run with the story.
He didn’t do much on social media himself. He’d hired a marketing student to help out with that. He felt bad for Whitney. She was so stressed by her situation. Hopefully, it would blow over quickly.
Matthew put on his gym shorts and walked down to the gym to pound out a few miles on the treadmill and then hit the weights. He’d have time to get back to the apartment and take a shower and a quick catnap before going to pick up Whitney.
When he walked inside the building, he heard a low whistle from the desk. He stopped and walked backward. “What are you doing working the day shift, Jack?”
“Mr. Jessup is sick in bed with something. I’m pulling doubles until he’s back on his feet.”
“That’s some long hours. You okay?”
“Nothing to it. Now you, on the other hand, might I ask if you are okay?”
“Why would you ask that?”
“Saw that pretty woman you snuck in through the garage yesterday. You hiding her up there?”
He dropped his head back. “No, Jack. She was only here for lunch, but then you probably know that since you’ve got the cameras right there in front of you.”
“Yeah. That’s true. Can’t believe you let a woman so fine slip away so fast,” Jack said, his chest puffing up. “When I was your age?—”
“She’s a nice lady,” Matthew said. “I was respectful.”
“You can flirt respectfully. You know, show a little interest.” Jack winked. “I liked her on first sight. Gonna see her again? Or did you blow it already?”
Banter with Jack was always amusing, but the old man had good advice. “I’ll have you know I’m seeing her tonight, not that it’s any of your business,” he added.
“Hmmph. You, boy, are my business. I told your daddy I’d watch over you. I’d never let a friend down.” Jack was dead serious, too, but then he let out a hearty laugh. “About time you got a woman to share all that space with you. I’m tiredof defending your honor when people talk about the grumpy hermit on the top floor.”
“Well, they have to have something to talk about.”
“Good luck with her,” Jack said. “If you need some tips, call me. I’m an expert with the ladies.”
Matthew had to admit the old man still had swagger. Women were always stopping in to bring Jack a casserole or visit in hopes of a little of his time. He’d been widowed longer than Matthew had been alive. He doubted Jack had any idea what good dating etiquette was in this decade, but then again, some things never went out of style.
“I’ll keep you posted, old man.” It was a term of endearment, and his friendship with Jack, although full of banter and sometimes boisterous, was a special one.
Chapter
Eighteen
Whitney tugged her rhinestone-studded belt with the turquoise buckle through the loops of her jeans, thankful they were still a perfect fit after all these years. The boots had some scuffs, but she’d used a good old Mr. Clean magic eraser on them, and they looked fine.
She applied a fresh coat of lipstick then twisted in the mirror, adjusting the collar of her heavily starched white blouse so that her necklace made a statement.
She pushed her hair back to keep the blingy, dangling earrings from getting tangled. A diamond tennis bracelet and big turquoise ring rounded out her outfit.
“Go figure,” she said to James, who seemed to appreciate the outfit by blowing a bunch of bubbles at the top of his bowl. “I’m actually looking forward to this event.” She dropped in a few flakes of food for him. How bad was it that the only dish she’d mastered was fish flakes for James?
Matthew texted he was on his way.
