Page 67 of Lucas (Life in the Brohouse 7)

“A bit,” I say, trying to be modest.

Mom looks through my photographs. I wonder if she’s still angry with me about the Hamptons. I haven’t spoken to her since I yelled at her on the phone. She left a few voicemails, all of them pretty angry with how I spoke to her on the phone. I wonder if we will ever go back to normal. Then again, what is normal?

“Any plans for the summer?” Mom asks, turning away from the photos and giving me another tight-lipped smile.

“I’ll probably chill here,” I say. “Maybe try to work on my art a bit more.”

Mom bobs her head. “That’s nice.” The way she says it makes me think it’s not, but I’m in no mood to fight. I just got over a strange disease and I have customers to tend to. A group heads toward me, my parents step away.

“Let’s get dinner when you’re done,” Dad calls while Mom twiddles her fingers in farewell.

I nod in response, too busy to offer an actual reply. When the customers leave after purchasing two pf my pieces, I turn to Seth, giving him a dark smile, as I ask softly, “When did you call my mother?”

Seth shrugs. “I think it was a couple weeks ago. Maybe three.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Why not?”

I sigh in exasperation and flick my hair over my shoulder. “Because my mother right now hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you, Rachel.” Seth strokes my cheek as my eyes prickle with tears.

“It certainly feels like she does.”

Seth’s mouth opens and promptly closes when we hear, “Excuse me, Rachel, is it?”

I lurch away from Seth and plaster on a bright smile, coming face to face with an older man around her parent’s age. His balding head glistens in the light, his eyes wincing as he smiles back at her.

“Yes, that’s me,” I say brightly while holding out my hand.

“Arthur Becks,” he says while taking my hand and giving it a curt shake. “I’m an art dealer Denver. I’ve passed by here a couple times, and I have to say, you have talent.”

I blink, not quite recognizing the man. I was probably too busy with customers to take notice of him. “Thank you,” I say, my face flushing. I hope it’s only shyness due to his compliment and not the illness coming back to destroy me.

“Here’s my business card,” Arthur says while slipping out an eggshell card from his wallet and handing it to me. “Give me a call some time. I would love to see your other pieces. Perhaps I can find a home for them in an art gallery in Denver.”

I snatch the card from him before he can change his mine. “Yes, of course, thank you,′ I stutter out, watching him dip his head and step back into the crowd.

“That was weird,” Seth murmurs, watching the guy with a puzzled look.

“No.” I smile and fan myself with the card. “That’s exactly why I didn’t want to cancel on today.” Finally, I feel like I am making promise. No strange illness, not even my parents can hold me back from my dreams. I’m taking another step toward my goal and if feels absolutely amazing.

Chapter 28

LUCAS

Thesunisbeginningto dim. Red and orange rays peak through the trees, casting a warm glow upon the vendors packing their wares into trucks. Rachel is doing better. At least, she appears that way, with a bright smile on her face, her head held tall as she overlooks Seth and Alex carrying several of her photographs back to Hunter’s car. The portraits sold really well. I have no clue how much Rachel made, but she looks happy. That’s enough. This morning, she had me worried. I have never seen her so sick before. Hungover, yes. With a cold, yes. But suddenly vomiting, and vomiting that much? No, not at all. I’m glad it was only nerves, but I never want to see her like that ever again.

“What?” Seth scoffs, giving me a dark look. “You going to just stand there while we do all the work?”

Alex chuckles and shakes his head at Seth. “Coming from the one who practically ran away this morning to look at all the stuff.”

Seth rolls his eyes, but doesn’t say anything as he passes me on the way to the car. Rachel saunters toward me, her hands in her pocket, her long curly hair swaying at her hips. “I made $550.”

“Oh, look at that.” I wrap my arms around her, pulling her small frame toward me. She fits perfectly to me, like we are made for each other. “Dinner is on you.”

She swats my shoulder, but she’s laughing. There’s a twinkle in her eye. There’s no drama, no worry about Lori and what my parents might think or do. Rachel’s parents have been civil, at least for the brief time I saw them. Everything feels perfect.

---