AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The doors open and in flies Caitlyn Brooks, still in her scrubs. Her eyes are puffed over with tears, and she dashes straight to the display, still set up.
Just like Tia, she slaps her hand over her mouth. We all stay back except for Ash, who joins his mom as she looks at every little detail in his paintings.
His mom and he talk quietly for the next twenty minutes, until Kate appears like a ninja from her office.
He introduces his mother to Kate.
“So, how did he do, Kate?” I ask, walking up to them. I know she won’t give him the bottom line, with us around, but she’ll tell us what paintings are left.
“I sold every single painting.”
Ashton’s mouth drops, and I yank him toward me. “I am so fucking proud of you!”
He lets me hold him. After all, this is his dream come true.
26
Ashton
All thirteen watercolors sold.Every single one of them. In one night, after Kate’s commission, she handed me a check for eleven thousand, three hundred and seventeen dollars.
My commission doesn’t include another transaction I hadn’t realized was possible. A gentleman from New York wants to have right of first refusal for each art piece, paying ten thousand dollars for a year for this privilege alone.
After a week, it hasn’t sunk in. People want to display my art, my watercolors, on their walls.
But, tonight, we find our way back to the gallery. This week, I’m in a navy-blue suit, one I bought this time with my commission. Noah is in a muted royal blue suit, and the same cuff links Liam bought him for his first premiere. With this show, the clientele is more influential, and a few journalists for the arts and culture scene in Seattle are in attendance.
But tonight, I’m nervous, in a different way. And it has everything to do with Evelyn James.
“You have nothing to worry about. My mom was under the weather, but she’s fine now. Let’s make an appearance. But, we won’t stay long.”
His parents, along with Liam, are meeting us here, but Noah was firm. We won’t be here longer than an hour.
His charcoal sketches are hung through the gallery. He must have thirty pieces on display, and Kate was clear with the press release, this collection is different than the others he’s displayed in the past.
We walk through the door of the gallery, and Shane stands with champagne flutes again.
Noah won’t drink tonight, and it’s the reason I’m abstaining from alcohol during this part of the night. The reporter for the newspaper wastes no time getting a statement from Noah. Everyone knows this is a once in a blue moon opportunity to get Noah James on record.
Letting go of his hand, I walk the gallery, taking in every picture of me, from my back, to my head, and even a slight profile. The largest picture is one of Tia, Mom, and I around my childhood dining room table with a bottle of wine in front of us. Others range of me at Parson’s Park, near the creek at his grandfather’s cabin, and hiking the trail, me looking out the car window, reading at night, me painting. Every single one is me in some sort of way, in a moment shared between us. There may be others in the pictures, but it’s private fragments of me he’s allowing others to see. I turn around when someone taps me on the shoulder. It’s not Noah, it’s not his touch.
When I twist my body, I’m face to face with Evelyn James.
“These are beautiful, Ashton. And I can see how much my son loves you. You’re quite the muse for him.”
Her voice is tender and soft. But soon, her attention moves to me, and she has tears falling from her eyes. “It’s very nice to meet you, officially this time.”
She opens her arms like she may embrace me but then she closes herself off and extends her arm to shake my hand.
“Thanks, Mrs. James. I hope you’re well after your migraine last week.”
Her face flushes, and when I look upon her, I can’t believe how much Noah resembles his mother. Like my own mother, Mrs. James has aged gracefully. At fifty-nine, she’s fifteen years older than my mom, but I’d never guess Evelyn James is a day over fifty.
“Oh, please, call me Evelyn. And I hope I haven’t run you off yet, dear.” She squeezes my shoulder, but her smile is a little tight. Maybe she doesn’t connect with people easily.
“No ma’am. Not at all.” I look over Evelyn’s head, watching Noah speaking with another person from the press. She turns around and looks at him. She watches her son, she is full of so much pride.
“I’m surprised he’s still talking to them.” She turns her head around, her attention fully on me.
