Page 35 of Second Round

“It’s going fine,” I said, crossing my fingers. I hadn’t started it yet. First, the project with Wayne’s company had taken all my time, and then everything with Leo had distracted me. Plus, I didn’t even want to sell the house in the firstplace.

“Great, because I’ve got a realtor lined up to come in. Do you remember Andrew Milton? He’s a heavy hitter in West Van. How’s tomorrow workforyou?”

“Not tomorrow,” I pleaded. What excuses could I give? “Look, Brent, I need more time to get the place looking really tip-top. The kids have had a lot ofstuffon.”

“Well, I’ve got the kids this weekend. That should give you lots of time. Actually, that’s perfect, because I’ll get a chance to inspect the place and see if anything else needs tobedone.”

Brent assumed I ate bonbons and took bubble baths while he had the kids. But I wasn’t about to tell him that I had a date. And since when did he get to treat me like anemployee?

“You know, you still have a bunch of stuff here. How about you come and clear thatouttoo?”

“Box it up for me, and I’ll pick it up,” he said. “Look, I’ve got a meeting in two minutes. We can talk later.” He hung up before I could squeak another word ofprotest.

With the motivation of more time with Leo on the weekend, I got busy on the house. The house looked good, but I needed to clear the excess clutter to make the rooms look morespacious.

I switched on HGTV for inspiration and began filling garbage bags and boxes. The work was dusty and difficult, but also energizing. I was in a very unsentimental mood, which was the perfect mindset for getting rid of things. Candlestick holders from Brent’s Aunt Claudia that I’d never liked: toss them! Some items I could repurpose for the family suites, which meant I could make a little moneyaswell.

Sharon dropped by at lunchtime. “Hey-ho! I was in the area, so I thought I’d come by and eat my sandwich in yourcompany.”

“Sure. Did you want a coffee or something to go with that? I already ate a salad, but there arecookies.”

“Don’t worry. It’s nice to relax for a few minutes and get to use a toilet that’s not a port-a-potty.”

“What are you doing?” she asked as she picked her way through the stacks of books and knickknacks. The place was a mess of course, since decluttering meant clutteringfirst.

“I’m practisingThe Magical Art of Tidying Upby discarding everything that doesn’t bringmejoy.”

“Oh, that crazy Japanese book,” she said. “I’ve heard about women who cleared their houses and ended up throwing out theirhusbandstoo.”

“Well, that step’s already been done for me. Brent is the reason I’m even doing this. He thinks that if the place looks open-house ready, we’ll get more moneyforit.”

Sharon opened her lunch box and nodded. “That explains the horrible TV choice.” She hated HGTV since clients who watched it religiously seemed to change their renovation plansdaily.

“Listen, Jackie, I’ve got some great news for you. There’s a restaurant near me, and they have a big gallery space in the back. I was talking to the manager, and they feature local artists. So I signed you up for a show inOctober.”

That statement knocked the breath outofme.

She continued. “You’d actually be doing her a favour. They book these things a year in advance, and some idiot dropped out. But it gives you six months to get ready. You’ve probably got enough paintings right nowanyway.”

“Wow. Do you think I’m good enough?” Everything that happened with Brent had sapped my meagre artisticconfidence.

“Of course. And I had a few photos of your place on my phone, so I showed Darlene—that’s the manager—your paintings and she was keen. It’s more to support local artists anyway. It’s not the Vancouver Art Gallery oranything.”

“Gosh, thank you. This is pretty overwhelming.” It was extremely scary to expose my paintings to the public, butexcitingtoo.

Sharon handed me a business card. “You should go see the space and confirm everything with Darlene. Also, she suggested you get awebsite.”

A website? But I had been considering giving up painting. As Brent had hinted, it was a waste of time. “Okay, seriously. Can I ask you something? Brent said my paintings are devaluing the house and we needed something more neutral. What do you think?” I was over the initial breathtaking pain of his remark, but it was still tough to sayoutloud.

Her mouth dropped open. “No way. He said thattoyou?”

“Yeah. I wondered if I was overreacting, but judging from yourreaction,no.”

“Would you say that to someone? Even if it was true—which is up for debate—painting is so important to you, so why even gothere?”

“Wait. So itistrue?”

“I love your art. It’s bright, cheerful, and fun. But that’s how our personalities are. Someone boring like Brent probably likes more traditional stuff. And I know from doing renos that the majority of people like the same things they see everywhere else.” Sharon pointed to the TV. “Like that kitchen. You get trends in kitchens like grey granite countertop with white cabinets. Before it was oak cabinets withmarble.”

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