AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Ok, Dad.”
As Knox pulls me away, Mrs. Kendall watching over us, I hope one day Dante will join us, too.
I wake up after another dream from my childhood, this one from when I was only seven years old. It’s no surprise that my dreams are centered around Mrs. Kendall, when the majority of my focus has been on helping with the remodel of her home. It’s only been a few weeks and Knox has already finished gutting the three bedrooms and two bathrooms on the upper floor of the newly named clubhouse. I have to admit, I cried a little when I saw how much was torn out, but Knox is right. The home is old and everything from the insulation to the drywall needs to be redone. Luckily, the structural framework is intact.
Sitting on my parent’s porch, I lift my coffee cup to my lips and stare down the road at Mrs. Kendall’s old house. The thought of calling her house a clubhouse is going to take some getting used to.
As much as I miss Mrs. Kendall, it gives me comfort to see how things are coming along. To see how hard everyone is working on the project regardless of the lives they have outside of Willowcreek. She’d approve of using this place as a community center. Every time I get cranky during the harder parts of the job—or teary seeing hideous 70s wallpaper destroyed beneath a sledgehammer—I just think about all the great memories the new generations will make here.
Who knows? Maybe one day there will be a group of friends, just like me and the gang, working to update the clubhouse for their new generation.
Letting out a heavy sigh, I glance down at my phone sitting on my lap just as it lights up with a new notification. Knox’s name flashes across the screen and the moment I open the message I can’t help but sigh again. He’s going to be late today.
“I guess I can relax a little longer then,” I mumble to myself as I shoot a message back to him telling him to take his time. It isn’t often that I get a moment to breathe, and with the cool air brushing against me this morning, I decide to take advantage of the peace.
One of the great things about my job is that I can work from pretty much anywhere. Which means that long after the clubhouse is done and everyone else is going back to their busy lives, I can stick around and relive the moments I once had here.
Perhaps take advantage of a few other things as well.
My mind once again flitters back to Knox and the excitement in his eyes as he discussed having the murals painted on the walls of the clubhouse. It honestly took me by surprise, and though I came unprepared to paint, I didn’t hesitate to run into town and pick up the supplies I needed to do so.
I mean, it is cheaper than flying back to New Orleans, and when I’m done I can leave the materials here for the kids to use while at the clubhouse.
New Orleans… The thought makes me internally groan. I love the work I’m doing here, but I can’t stop thinking about all the work that I still need to do for my gallery back home.
Thankfully, Mrs. Kendal's old garage is the perfect place for an art studio. My parent’s home is simply too cluttered from all their travels to give me enough room to paint.
Getting to my feet, I stretch my arms out over my head before picking up my coffee cup and taking it back inside. As much as I want to continue being lazy, there is too much to do. And honestly, Mrs. Kendall’s home is calling my name.
The moment I close the front door of the house, my nostrils are assaulted by the scent of debris. Drywall dust, mildew, everything that comes with construction. But mixed with it is something else—fresh paint. I’d recognize it anywhere and I find myself smiling.
The rooms are empty save for Knox’s tools. All the furniture has been moved out, of course, and we’ll be going through it all to see what we keep and what we will donate, but right now it’s all sitting in a storage locker.
Ringing from my pocket draws my attention. Pulling out my phone, I smile, expecting it to be Knox. Instead, my brow furrows slightly as a smirk crosses my lips when I see that it's Stella.
“Hey!” I answer.
“Kylie! Have you heard?” Stella asks, her voice stressed.
“I haven’t heard anything,” I tell her, my stress levels spiking.
What happened? I’m not worried about my New Orleans gallery even though I’m miles away. Max is the best gallerist there is to run the business side of things. He can broker any deal. Stella has so much knowledge about art in every medium that she can talk to any customer for days about it. She knows how to handle all questions and transactions, meaning the two of them can run the gallery just fine, even though they bicker like an old married couple.
Her silence is worrying. I know I can count on them to hold down the fort, which means that it has to be about Stella’s potential studio. “Stella… is there something I should have heard?”
Stella groans into the phone. “The realtor… I was hoping you would have heard something by now, it's been weeks.”
I flinch as I run my fingers through my hair, a bad habit that I still fall into when I’m nervous. It’ll probably be a frizzy mess by the end of this phone call. Stella’s anxiety is palpable through the line, despite the miles and miles of space between us.
“I know you gave him my number as a backup contact, but I haven’t heard anything from the realtor, either,” I tell her, trying to be soothing.
I love working with Stella in my studio. I love her being so close, and for her sculptures to be displayed with my artwork. She’s ready for her own place, though. She’s ready to start building a name for herself, rather than being attached to Kylie Simmons.
Not only that, but she wants so much more than a studio. She wants the gallery, the studio, and a study space for youth artists. She’s worked so hard on putting together a business plan. I’ve been with her every step of the way. Since Stella got approval for funding, it’s just been waiting on the realtor.
I won’t say it, but this is far too long to wait. Stella was promised an answer weeks ago. So what went wrong? Why is there a delay?
I make my way to the kitchen, talking Stella down from her panic spiral as I make a big pot of coffee for Knox and his dad when they arrive. I end up talking with Stella for a bit too long, but she seems like she’s much more optimistic by the end of the call.
