“I have the chair that matches it on the next aisle over.”
“Perfect. If it’s in decent shape, I’ll take both. Do you deliver?”
“We can have both there by three this afternoon.”
“1821 Cape Geneva Drive,” Rowan informed her. “Driftwood Cottage. But since you’ve been there before you know the house.”
After paying for the furniture, Rowan sat in the pickup in front of Vanilla Bean Machine, trying to figure out why Gran had sold her paintings without mentioning it to her. It wasn’t that she cared about the landscapes. It was the fact that Gran hadn’t even brought it up in conversation. It was almost as if Lynette Dewhurst became two distinct personalities before passing away. One personality regularly spoke to her granddaughter about the smallest details, like running errands and what she bought at the grocery store. While the second personality kept certain things entirely to herself.
The sound of Daniel’s voice coming from the sidewalk made her jump. “What are you doing sitting out here?”
“You scared me half to death. I brought roast beef sandwiches. I thought we could eat lunch together.”
He leaned in to rest his arms on the pickup’s window frame. “Great idea. But won’t you need to get out of the truck for that?”
“Very funny. I just bought a couch and chair from a person called Keva Riverton.”
“Reclaimed Treasures. Did she buy your grandmother’s sofa and chair?”
“Funny thing about that.” She told him about the paintings.
“Your gran dumped your artwork in a second-hand shop?” Daniel asked disbelief in his voice.
“Artwork is stretching it. More like silly renditions from a teenager. But yeah, that about covers it. She unloaded that crap without a backward glance. Keva told me one sold for two hundred dollars, though. Not, however, the very moody rendition of Collinwood Manor that to this day embarrassingly still hangs there for everyone to see.”
“I’d like to buy that.”
“Don’t you dare. Trust me, it doesn’t go with your décor at home. In fact, it doesn’t go with anyone’s décor unless they’re fond of smarmy gothic soap operas. The funny thing is I painted a ton of coastal scenery back then. Keva told me that three-fourths of my landscapes—the ocean, the shoreline, the beach, dunes, the cove, even Smuggler’s Bay—included boats.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Water, Daniel. Boats and water. How could I so readily paint something back then that terrifies me now?”
He opened the pickup’s passenger door. “Come inside. Let’s hash this out over sandwiches and root beer. I’m hungry.”
She slid across the bench seat before reaching for her handbag and the grocery sack. “Were you headed to lunch?”
“Yep.” He held the door for her and pointed to a tiny table where they could eat. “We don’t have a breakroom, so this will have to do. But if it gets busy, I’ll need to jump up and help Kiki. How’d your meeting go?”
Rowan glanced over at the teenage girl with purple hair standing behind the counter on her phone texting like a fiend. “It looks like you’re safe for now.”
He unwrapped his sandwich. “What about the meeting with the big PR firm?”
“Don’t ask. I received a curt email fifteen minutes ago dropping me as their graphics designer. I don’t blame them. It wasn’t a good fit.”
“You’re certainly taking it well.”
“I am, aren’t I? On the flip side, I just spent a thousand bucks for a Crate & Barrel Avondale couch and chair in olive green that would’ve normally cost me four times what I paid for them.”
“And you’re excited about that?”
“Over the moon, actually.”
“What will you do for a job?”
“I don’t know yet. Any shifts open here? Remember, Kiki plans to abandon you for Big Sur soon.”
He sputtered with laughter. “I’m sure I could find something for you to do. What about the other client you brought with you when you quit?”