Page 57 of Reaching Gavin

Chapter Twenty

There were even moretourists today. The handful of shops in the historic downtown district were all packed. I didn’t see where they could all be coming from. We did our best to stick together as we walked. For the most part, conversation flowed easily, save for a few minutes of bickering here and there between Richard and Rebecca. Despite their arguments, they held hands and stayed close to one another. It was clear they were very much in love, just like Gavin had said. Apparently, good-natured arguments were a Sound family tradition.

Rebecca stopped in front of a storefront and peered inside. “Oh! The gallery has a new artist.” She shooed us all inside.

I didn’t know much about art, except the poor and starving part. As a college student, I could relate to that easily. Rebecca, on the other hand, was greeted the moment she walked in the door with a friendly hug from the gallery owner. “Let me show you Joshua’s work. You’ll love it.”

Rebecca wandered off with the woman while Gavin, Richard, and I studied a few landscapes. Most looked local. Given how beautiful it was here, it wasn’t hard to imagine painters finding inspiration.

“That looks familiar,” I said to Gavin, pointing at a landscape that featured a rocky shoreline and gray skies. I looked down to see the name of the piece and realized it was Olympic Falls. “That makes sense. It’s where I go to school.”

“Do you like it?” Richard asked.

“The painting or the school?”

“Both.”

“I can’t complain,” I told him. “They gave me a full-ride scholarship. I’m a first-generation college student, so that really helped my parents out.”

“A full ride?” He sounded impressed. Elbowing his son in the ribs, he pointed at me. “This one’s a smart one. Keep her.”

“It would help if you didn’t try to scare her off,” Gavin said, in a wry tone.

Rebecca came back over, positively buzzing about the newest artist, whom she proclaimed a genius with watercolors. She lowered her voice conspiratorially and told me, “I know nothing about art. I just buy what I like.”

“Which is everything,” Richard added.

She shot him a look and then turned to her son. “Gavin, take your father, so us girls can be alone. These shops are too full for all of us to be together anyway.”

“And she doesn’t want me to see how much money she spends,” Richard told me.

“Come on, Dad. Let’s go find some coffee.”

The guys left us and we continued to peruse the art. She showed me the new watercolor artist’s work. I had to admit it was striking. She’d already bought three pieces.

“This better,” Rebecca said with a relieved smile, as we made our way to the next store. “I’m not one of those women who has to be with my husband all the time. Of course, we usually are together all the time. You two are young, so it’s natural to want to be with each other all the time.

I laughed at this. “We haven’t been together that long. I guess he’s not sick of me yet.”

I didn’t want her to get her hopes up about us, which she clearly already had.

“Well, just remember, stand your ground. He’ll respect it. If he doesn’t, call me, I’ll knock some sense into him,” she promised me. “I raised him right.”

We spent the rest of the morning ducking in and out of shops. Rebecca was a prolific spender, and no matter how hard I tried to refuse, I kept winding up with more and more shopping bags full of things she had to buy me.

“Imogen doesn’t let me buy her anything anymore. You have to indulge me. My children are too independent,” she said, a streak of pride in her words. No doubt they had gotten that trait from their parents.

It had been a long time since I’d spent the day shopping with my own mom. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed it. Rebecca felt like a surrogate mother.

We passed the Weekend Café which, if the two days I’d seen it were any indication, was characteristically full. There must always be a wait there. After dinner last night, I understood why. “We ate there yesterday. It was amazing.”

“Oh, Gavin’s restaurant?” Rebecca said, looking over to the bustling café.

“I thought it was Thomas’s restaurant,” I said slowly.

“Thomas is the chef, but Gavin owns it.” She spoke matter-of-factly, like this was common knowledge. One look at my face and she realized she had let the cat out of the bag. “He didn’t tell you, did he?”

“Your son is full of surprises.”