Mia Found (Starting Fires Book 3) (35 page)

Paul was supposed to visit in a week. Unfortunately that was also the week I had my interview in Seacrest. I’d be flying out to meet the curator of the art museum, hoping they wanted to pursue me.

When I’d told Paul not to come, he’d become upset. No amount of soothing could calm him. I’d wanted my visit to be a surprise. Gladys knew I would be gone for a week and Tanya didn’t seem to care about anything these days. Wanting to spend time with him, I’d told him to keep his vacation days. He hadn’t understood. My bailing hurt his feelings. I nearly spilled the beans, but before I could, Paul hung up with a huff.

Our communication had been limited. Five days was all that stood between us, but he didn’t know it. I was at complete odds with what to do. Part of me wanted to spill my secret, but the other part wanted to see his face, full of love and surprise, when I walked up to his door.

After Hank’s band finished playing I went and spoke with him. “Thank you for coming back,” I said. “You really changed the atmosphere. It’s a shame you can’t play every night.”

His smile was tight, almost like he was embarrassed. “Thanks…and I…I owe you an apology. I’m sorry for the way I acted before. I was a little drunk.”

I waved it away. “Don’t worry about it. We all do stupid things when we’re drunk. But…just to be clear, Fontenot, that guy in the parking lot with me, he wasn’t my boyfriend.”

His eyebrows shot up.

“
My boyfriend lives in Florida. Fontenot was just being a douche.”

“
Oh,” he said, deflating a little. “Florida, huh? How often do you see him?”

“
Not often enough. But I’m making a little trip next week to surprise him!” I smiled and Hank returned it.

“
He’s a lucky guy. And you know we don’t have much going on in way of gigs. We could play here as often as you want.”

“
Really? I think that would be great.”

“
Just let me know,” he said, walking away.

“
Wait! How about next weekend? I’ll be gone, but Kiki can probably help out.”

“
No need for that. You tell us where to be and we’ll be there.”

“
Great!” I gave him a thumbs up and he walked towards the bar, grinning and shaking his head.

After checking that everything was still going smoothly, I snuck out and drove home. Tired, I put on my pajamas and snuggled into bed. It was just before midnight. Paul was back in Florida and I wondered if he’d be awake. Taking a chance, I dialed his number.

He answered on the first ring. “Mia? What time is it?”

“
Nearly midnight. I’m sorry. I just made it home and wanted to talk to you.”

“
Midnight? Geez,” he said, yawning then clearing his throat. “What’s up? Anything happen tonight?”

“
Nothing really. But…are you still mad at me?”

He sighed. “No, baby. I’m not mad. You have a life too. I can’t expect you to drop everything for my schedule. Do what you need to. We’ll get another chance.”

“
Are you still taking those vacation days?”

“
Yeah. I think I need some time away from the office. It’s starting to take its toll. I’m gonna get some good sleep. Watch TV. I don’t know maybe go down to the beach.”

It sounded wonderful and I found myself smiling, knowing that I would be beside him when he did all those things. “All right. I’ll let you go.”

“
Bye, Pretty.”

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

THE FLIGHT TO SEACREST was expensive, for me at least. But the view alone was worth it. Driving down the roads told me how beautiful my days would be if I landed this job. The beach was only a few miles from the museum. The weather was always warm and breezy. The little shops all displayed nautical, beach themes. Even the air smelled better. Like salt and wind.

I stepped out of my car and took a deep breath. The art museum was in the heart of the town and I sighed at how quaint it seemed. It would be perfect for me. Not too large to be intimidating. Not too small to be boring. It fit right in the middle and with a smile I walked in.

A tall man in a brown suit met me at the door. “Mia?” he smiled.

“
Yes, sir. You must be Gregory.”

We shook hands and he led me over to his office. It was small and had papers lining nearly every surface. He pushed some out of the way as he sat opposite me at his desk. “Thank you for meeting with us. Your Uncle is a very valued contributor.”

“
Oh, no. Thank
you
for agreeing to do the interview. When he told me about it, I nearly fell out of my chair. It would be a dream to work here.”

His tight-lipped smile didn’t reach his eyes and I made a mental note to cut the butt kissing.

“
What sort of experience do you have?” he asked.

None.
But how could I say that? I took a breath, and tried to be as honest as I could without sounding unexperienced—even though I was.

“
I graduated this year and excelled in all of my Art History courses. I’m also a painter myself and have been selling works on commission. Currently, I’m a designer at a local establishment in my hometown, helping them revamp their image. It’s not exactly what I pictured doing with my degree, but there aren’t many options there. Regardless of what happens, I’m definitely looking for a change of scenery. Something to make me feel challenged and proud.”

“
That’s very admirable,” Gregory said, looking down at the papers in his hand. “The plan would be to bring on an intern to learn and grow under Maxwell, the current director. When the time is right, that intern would be replacing him. All would transpire with his approval. Maxwell is valued. I hate to say it, but if he doesn’t like you, this won’t be an option. I’ll admit that the pay isn’t great and it will be complete hell working for him.”

“
Oh.”

Gregory nodded. “He’s an ornery old man, set in his ways, but also wise. A young graduate like you could learn a great deal from him.”

“
Do I get to meet him today?”

Gregory shifted his head to the side. “That’s unlikely. I’m doing the preliminary interviews and bringing in the best for him to consider.”

“
All right,” I said.

Gregory didn’t like me. It was obvious. His posture was stiff and intimidating. He assessed me with scrutiny and I had the impression that he felt I was too young and inexperienced for this.

“
Let me show you around,” he said.

Gregory stood and I followed him around the small museum. While he gave me the tour, he questioned me on my areas of interest, even quizzing me on my knowledge as we walked. “What do you think of this one, Mia?” Or “This was an interesting period, wouldn’t you say?”

My knowledge was good, but we both knew I had much to learn and I stumbled through a few explanations. His patronizing smile did little for my confidence and the more we walked, the more my palms began to sweat. This dream was ending before it even began.

At the last room, his phone rang and he excused himself to take the call. Once I knew he was out of earshot I muttered, “Idiot,” under my breath. This job was perfect and I was ruining it.

I couldn’t stand in the dark gallery any longer and stepped into the hallway. The light was brighter here and I took a breath as I stared out the window.

The sun was nearly set and I couldn’t wait to see Paul. If this had been a bust, he’d make it better. He’d soothe all my self-doubt and remind me how talented I was—that I had a future with or without this.

“
Shit,” someone muttered, catching my attention. “Utter shit.”

I peered around the wall and saw an office with the door open. From my angle, I could see a pair of old hands working on the desk, picking up and discarding prints.

My feet moved before I could stop them and within seconds, I was standing in his doorway. The man had white hair mixed with gray and black. His maroon sweater reminded me of Mr. Rogers and I smiled. The office was modest, but cleaner than Gregory’s. Not a piece of paper was out of place. My eyes scanned, searching for a name plaque, but came up empty. He was analyzing a print of
Spring Frost,
one of my favorite paintings from the Australian artist, Elioth Gruner.

“
That’s one of Gruner’s best,” I said. “The farmer is my favorite. His ability to paint life always astounded me.”

“
A Gruner lover, eh?” he said, not even bothering to look up.

“
Yes–”

Faster than I thought possible, he stood from his chair. “Well, Gruner is shit.”

I didn’t control the contortion of my face and he dared me to refute him.

“
Excuse me,” I said, “But Elioth Gruner is not… he’s not...sh...shi...” It was ridiculous that I couldn’t even say the word now. I wasn’t really even the one saying it. I was just quoting this mean, old man. “Well, he’s certainly an artist to be admired.”

He cackled, but not in a way that made me feel like I should join him. Still grinning, he walked around his desk, grabbing a cane. “Follow me, Miss Barns.”

I narrowed my eyes at his retreating back.
Barns? He did that on purpose.

“
Are you Maxwell?” I asked following him back into the gallery I’d just left.

His only answer was single, loud clack of his cane.

Ornery, old man? Set in his ways? This was Maxwell, all right.

He brought me back through the modest, but well-loved rooms, not giving me a chance to speak or offer input. Anytime I paused to analyze a painting or sculpture, he hurried me on with another clack of his wooden cane.

Many of the rooms he brought me to, Gregory hadn’t and by the time we made it back to Maxwell’s office, I was completely turned around. He fell back in his chair with a thump and clacked his cane to indicate that he wanted me to sit, though the sound lost its intimidation on the carpet.

“
Fresh out of school, I’d wager,” he said as I claimed the only chair in his office. “Have big dreams of running your own museum. Looking to get something nice on your resume so you can move on to bigger and better things.”

I took a calming breath, knowing that I’d ruined this chance. “I graduated in May. And truth be told, I don’t know what I want to do or where I want to go. All I know is that art is my life. I love it. I live it. I breathe it. I’m not happy if my hands aren’t involved in it some way.”

“
You’re from Louisiana,” he said. “Why would you even want to be here? What’s Seacrest to you?”

I looked down to my lap and studied my fingernails. Knowing that I’d already squandered this brought me courage, and I answered him honestly.

“
It’s nothing to me,” I said. “I don’t know anything about your town. I don’t hold any pride for it. The truth is I want this job because the man I love lives forty minutes away. I want this job so I don’t have to love him through a phone. But I could also love your town. There’s beauty here. There’s peace. I don’t know if that’s enough for you. I hope it is, but if it isn’t...” I shrugged, slapping my hands on my thighs. “I don’t know. I guess I’ll figure it out.”

Maxwell was silent, studying me intently from behind his desk. “Thanks for coming Miss Burns. Gregory will see you out,” he said in dismissal.

With tears brimming my eyes, I did as he said, finding Gregory at the front entrance still on his phone.

He held a finger up when he saw me, and I waited for him to finish his call. For whole minutes he made me wait, giving me a patronizing smile when done. “We have several more interviews to conduct, but you’ll hear from us.” He opened the door and I left with a giant hole in my heart.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

I LET MYSELF CRY on the journey to Paul’s.
It’s okay,
I told myself as I wiped the back of my hand across my eye. This wasn’t meant to be, but something would turn up. It had to. I’d been graduated for nearly five months. Sooner or later a decent job had to present itself.

It was Friday and close to 6 p.m. Seacrest wasn’t far from Paul, and when I turned down his street my heart danced in my chest, but the excitement quickly fizzled out. My grand idea of surprising him fell flat. Five cars were sitting in his driveway. I parked on the street and walked towards his house, feeling out of place and uncomfortable.
This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.

Before I made it to his front door, voices carried over from the backyard. The gate was pushed open and I took a breath as I walked towards it. For only a moment, I eavesdropped but couldn’t make out what was being said. Over the chorus of voices, Paul’s carried. He sounded happy and light-hearted. Was I imposing?

Feeling insecure, I swallowed a knot in my throat and pushed the gate open. My feet moved slowly across the grass until his gazebo was in view. Paul was sitting on the bench, Liza beside him. Together they drank from the wine glasses she’d bought him as a housewarming gift. Her smile was full and genuine. His was hidden behind the rim of his glass. They weren’t touching, but only a little inch separated them.