My face burned as I stared down into the bowl of brown lumps. That had to change. It was going to. Today was the beginning of a whole new life for me. One where I would learn all the things I’d never known.
I stood from the table and crossed to the sink, sending the last of my cereal through the disposal. I grabbed the lunch I’d made for myself from the fridge and slid it into my bag. My hands trembled as I brushed them over my clothes, straightening invisible wrinkles. Not for the first time, I found myself wishing Everly were here. That I could ask her if what I was wearing was okay.
I could just make out my reflection in the large refrigerator. My navy skirt hit at mid-calf, and the white cap-sleeved blouse nipped in at the waist and then flared out again. I thought it looked professional. But when I thought about Laiken, I knew I had to be missing the mark. Her whole appearance seemed like a work of art from the colors of her clothes to her jewelry and the intricate braid she’d woven into her hair like a sort of headband.
With that kind of striking appearance, there was no choice but to stand out. I needed to blend into the background. My clothes helped me do just that.
Forcing my focus away from my reflection, I grabbed my jacket and bag and headed for the door. As I stepped outside, there was a bite to the air that meant we were slipping deeper into fall. I’d need to ask Laiken if pants and boots were appropriate once the snow started.
I loved the crisp white blanket that covered the town for months on end during the winter season, but it was a nightmare to get around in. Especially when your only modes of transportation were a bicycle and your two feet. Today, I opted for my feet. I didn’t want my skirt getting caught in the chain.
I pulled my jacket tighter around myself as I started into town. I continually scanned the sidewalks and the surrounding houses, looking for any place someone might hide. The thing about my father was that he could make a scene but never act on his anger, or he could make a scene and then level the recipient of his rage. It was difficult to tell which way he’d go at any given time. I could only hope that he’d gotten distracted by some other matter and would eventually forget all about me.
The houses slowly gave way to shops and restaurants. The tourist season was fading, but some people were still out and about, peeking in windows or stopping for a late breakfast. I gave everyone I passed a wide berth as I navigated the streets to The Gallery.
As I came to a stop outside, I checked my watch. Five minutes early. That was better than five minutes late.
I tried the door, but it was locked. I shuffled from foot to foot as I waited. While I’d been walking, the anxiety hadn’t had a chance to settle in. But now that I was standing still, it made itself right at home. A million different what-ifs danced through my mind, each one more ridiculous than the one before. What if I said the wrong thing? What if I tripped over myself and knocked a priceless piece of art off the wall? What if a mountain lion crashed through the window and attacked all the patrons?
“Breathe, Addie. Just breathe.”
Laiken appeared from the back room and waved, making her way to the door and unlocking it. “Come in, come in. It’s freezing out there.”
As I stepped inside, the blood roared in my ears, all those what-if scenarios looping through my head again.
A high-pitched bark sounded, and nails clattered on the floor. Gizmo charged towards me, one of the wheels on his wheelchair actually coming clean off the tile. I crouched down with a little laugh. “Hey, buddy.”
Laiken smiled down at me. “He likes you. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a friendly dog, but he’s not usually this enthusiastic.”
Gizmo licked my cheek, and I scratched him behind the ears. “The feeling’s mutual.”
“Come on. I’ll show you where you can put your bag and give you the grand tour.”
I pushed to my feet and followed Laiken, Gizmo keeping pace with us.
“Obviously, this is the showroom. We try to keep exhibits fresh, changing them out every six weeks or so. If you have any interest in sourcing artists, I’d be happy to have you scout for me.”
“I don’t know the first thing about that.”
Laiken paused for a moment, turning to look at me. “You know what you like, don’t you?”
“Sure, but I can’t always tell you why.”
She gestured to a wall. “What’s your favorite piece on that wall?”
That was easy to answer. “The photograph of the woman in the field.”
Laiken’s mouth curved into a smile. “Why?”
I clasped my fingers in front of me, squeezing them tightly as I stared at the painting. The woman’s grief hit me just as it had the first time I’d seen it. Raw and all-consuming. I couldn’t have stopped the words tumbling out of my throat if I tried. “She makes me feel…not alone.”
Laiken’s smile slipped a bit, and I would’ve given anything to take my words back. They revealed a little too much.
“That’s the thing about art,” she said softly. “It can make us feel seen. Understood. At least, that’s my favorite thing about it.”
“I can’t think of anything better than that.”
“Me, neither.” She waved me forward. “The back room has our kitchen, lockers, and storage.”