Page 13 of Tides of Redemption
Whoever takes over. The possibility I hadn’t dared consider suddenly unfurled inside me. If Mary Anne was retiring…would she sell the gallery? Could Caleb stay under the new management? The thought sent my pulse racing.
“Have you… Has Caleb mentioned anything about it?” I tried to keep my voice casual, but my hands trembled slightly as I handed Todd another roll of tape.
“Not specifically.” Todd shrugged. “But he’s been asking a lot of questions about the local art scene, long-term planning stuff. More than you’d expect for someone just filling in temporarily.”
I nodded, afraid to say more, afraid my hope might be visible on my face. We finished packing the paintings in companionable silence, but my mind was spinning with possibilities.
After Todd left with his carefully wrapped cargo, I tried to return to my inventory sheets, but it was useless. The idea of Caleb staying, of this tentative reconnection between us having a real chance—it was too overwhelming to set aside.
Another knock sounded on the door, and my heart leaped before my mind could temper it. Caleb stood outside, his hair slightly windblown by the sea breeze.
I swung the door wide open, my pulse quickening and butterflies taking flight in my stomach at the sight of him.
“Thought I might find you here,” he said with a smile. “Gallery’s closed, too. Need help?”
I gestured to the events room. “Todd just took the sold paintings. I was about to rearrange what’s left.”
“Perfect timing, then.” He shrugged off his coat, and I caught the comforting scent of his cologne as he passed me.
We worked together, adjusting the remaining paintings to fill the empty spaces. Caleb had an eye for composition, suggesting arrangements I wouldn’t have considered. Our hands brushed occasionally as we held frames steady, each touch sending electricity through me.
“That one should move to where the seascape was,” he suggested, pointing to a painting of the lighthouse. “The lighting hits it perfectly there.”
As we carefully moved it into position, I gathered my courage. “Todd mentioned something interesting,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant. “About Mary Anne retiring.”
Caleb’s hands stilled on the frame. When he didn’t immediately respond, I risked a glance at his face. Something complex passed across his features—surprise, uncertainty, maybe even a touch of dismay at having this conversation.
“Is it true?” I pressed when the silence stretched too long.
“She’s considering it. Nothing’s definite yet.” He met my eyes briefly, then looked away. “I’ve been thinking about…possibilities.”
My heart thundered in my chest. “Possibilities?”
“If Mary Anne does retire, I…” He took a deep breath. “Maybe I could remain as the director.”
The words hung in the air between us, heavy with implication. I set down a hammer, afraid my shaking hands might drop it.
“You’d stay in Seacliff Cove?” My voice came out barely above a whisper.
“I’d like to.” His eyes met mine, genuinely uncertain. “If it makes sense. Professionally, I mean.”
But we both knew it wasn’t just a professional decision. Not after yesterday, not after years of history between us.
“I didn’t want to mention it yet,” he continued quickly. “Nothing’s definite. Mary Anne might change her mind. And I’ve only taken a sabbatical from the Louvre.”
“But you want to stay.” It wasn’t quite a question.
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I want to stay.”
The simple admission unlocked something in my chest. Hope—dangerous, beautiful hope—bloomed there, warming me from within.
“What does that mean for…us?” I hardly dared ask, but I had to know.
He propped the painting against the wall and took a step closer, still hesitant but with more certainty than before. “I’d like to find out. If you would.”
My throat tightened with emotion. “Yesterday wasn’t just comfort during a storm?”
“Not for me.” His voice was soft but sure.
