“And now you’re trying again,” he says, his smile encouraging. “Good for you. You’re going to be amazing.”
He’s too sweet. “You don’t know that.”
“You were training to be a nurse even though you couldn’t eat for a full eight hours after Colin Woolf’s nosebleed.”
I shudder. “It was a lot of blood. And it was everywhere.”
He smiles as his next patient walks through the door. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
I shake my head as he walks away, and then I get back to work.
***
I look up from staring at the screen where I’ve been updating patient accounts for the past hour and stretch with a sigh and asmile. It feels good to have a job I love without staring down the barrel of a job I’d almost certainly hate.
My phone buzzes on the desk. Noah’s in with a patient, and there’s no one in the waiting room or scheduled for an appointment in the next half hour. I can step away for a personal call.
I take my phone outside and sit on a bench in the sun. The number has an area code I don’t recognize, but it’s not being flagged as spam. I’ve been putting out feelers about art classes at Maple Ridge and potential financial aid options, and I don’t want to risk missing a call.
“Hello?”
“Gentry? Gentry Lendew? This is Holly from Hollyberry Gallery. I’ve got some good news for you.”
My heart leaps in my chest. “Really? What’s—”
“Your painting sold this morning.”
I blink against suddenly stinging eyes. This can’t be real. I must be dreaming. “Are you sure it was my painting?”
“So sure I’m going to be sending you a check for eight hundred dollars minus my commission. The buyer asked about seeing more of your work. How soon can you have something to me?”
“I’ve only been home a week and—”
“Don’t you have anything already completed?”
“Maybe. I’ll look through what I have and see if any of it’s good enough.” I’ll have to dig it out of the back of my closet.
“It’s good enough. Just send it to me. How soon can you get me more new art?”
With money for art supplies and the extra time Dad being here gives me, I don’t have any more excuses not to get back into painting. “A month? Is that soon enough?”
“It’ll have to be. You might also think about setting up a website. And if there’s a gallery closer to home for you, I get first dibs on your work.”
I laugh, feeling suddenly giddy. “I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works. And shipping art isn’t cheap.”
She sighs. “I’ll cover the cost of shipping. But if you really want to go to a different gallery, give me their info so I can coordinate with them.”
“That’s really nice of you, Holly, but you don’t have—”
“Jesus Christ,” Holly says. “Stop playing the ‘I’m not good enough’ broken record. You’re the real deal, Gentry Lendew, and I rarely get the chance to sell anything from anyone at your level of ability. I probably shouldn’t be showing all my cards, but I like you, and I want you to remember how many times I hit you over the head to realize your worth. I have a feeling you’re the kind of person who sticks with people who do them a good turn.”
“I am. Thank you, Holly.”
“Text me your address. I’ll get the check in the mail.”
I hang up feeling like I could float right off this bench and dance on a cloud. I squeal with happiness and hit Levi’s contact number on my phone before I realize what I’m doing.
I hang up immediately, surely before it even rings once, but my happiness dims. I miss Levi. And he’d be so fucking happy for me. He’s the whole reason this is happening.
