I'm Not Charlotte Lucas(80)

I moved to the cement planter and sat down, Beth following. “That’s really easy to say, but I can’t make a living on how I feel when I paint.” If I could, I’d be crazy rich right now. At least if the way I felt painting the view of Bellmead the other night was any indication. I’d really, really enjoyed myself then. I’d felt a peace and a completion when finishing that painting that I hadn’t gotten in a long time.

“Why do you need to make a living at all?” she asked.

And the weird thing was, she seemed genuinely confused.

I tried to keep it light. “To pay for my phone bill and all of the ice cream I’ll need to eat to get over this breakup.”

“But why do you need to make a living from it right now?” she pressed. “You live rent free at home and have a savings account the size of Timbuktu. You could do whatever you want.”

The idea of focusing wholly on my art made hope surge in my chest, but it was unrealistic. “I definitely can’t quit my job. I have too many people relying on me.”

“Exactly,” Beth said, her eyes sad. “You have too many people relying on you. If you took away all the obligations you thought you had and just did what you wanted to do, what would it be?”

I stared at her. “I can’t answer that. I don’t even know.”

“You don’t have to answer it now. Maybe just think about it.” Beth pulled me in for a hug. “Love you, Charlie. Call me tomorrow. I’ll come over and bring lots of tacos.”

“No, no tacos,” I said, standing and picturing Liam showing up in my window with a Styrofoam container of tacos when I’d broken up with Andy. “Maybe something else.”

She gave me a funny look but nodded. “Okay.”

We went our separate ways, and I drove home, ready to fall into bed and cry out all my angry tears. I went into the studio and found my Pride and Prejudice paintings stacked up at the end of the room. I didn’t know how Liam got in and out, but I imagined him climbing through the window with my paintings, and it brought something of a smile to my lips. At least he didn’t fall and hurt himself or my Darcy rendition.

I changed into pajamas and climbed into bed, snuggling under the covers when a text rolled in.

The phone lit up with Liam’s name across the front, and my heart did a cartwheel.

Liam: Sorry.

Clutching my phone to my chest, I buried my face in my pillow and cried.





Chapter Thirty-Two


Saturday morning at the bank was utterly swamped. Mom had texted me earlier that morning asking if I could stop by Safeway on the way home to pick up some spinach-and-artichoke dip for a party she and my dad planned to attend that evening at a neighbor’s house, and then she texted again to remind me to get something to dip in it too. Then Mariah texted asking if she could have one of my paintings to gift to her drama teacher at the end of the play next weekend, and I didn’t bother responding.

My gut reaction was to say no, but then the women’s opinions that I’d overheard the night before floated through my head, and I wondered if maybe someone else could appreciate my art, besides Mr. Kirkham. One woman had called one of my pieces breathtaking. I really wish I knew which one she had referred to.

“Hey, Charlie,” Fernando said, poking his head into my office. “Just a heads-up—Barry’s here.”

“Thanks.” I straightened in my chair, righted my blazer, and put my phone into the top drawer of the desk.

When Barry stepped into the room, I rose to shake his hand, and he closed the door behind himself.

“What can I do for you, sir?”

“Just wanted to give you an update,” he said, taking the chair on the other side of the desk. He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at his forehead. “Please, be seated.” He gestured to my chair, and I sat at once.

“I’ll just cut to the chase.” Barry set his briefcase on the floor and crossed one ankle over the other knee. “We want to offer you the position of branch manager.”

My mouth fell open, and I had to make the conscious effort to close it. “What about Todd?”

Barry’s eyebrows rose. “Todd has accepted a position with Bellmead Credit Union. Needless to say, his position here is terminated, and we need to fill the spot. We’d like to fill it with you.”

“Wow, I’m honored to be considered.” I shook my head, trying to clear it. “What about Marissa?”

“Marissa? Oh, the teller? She’ll start on Monday. With Todd’s termination, the investigation is completed. Marissa’s track record as an employee is spotless, so she only got written up, but she’ll keep her job. It would be a different story if their relationship began before she started working here, of course.”

Relief poured through me. It was probably better for their careers and their relationship that they would be working at different branches anyway. Different banks was even safer.

“So, what do you say?”

“Um . . .” My mind shifted into something of a movie reel, flipping between the segments of conversations I’d had over the previous week and the questions put to me by Liam, Vera, Mr. Kirkham, and even Beth. While they’d all had something a little different to say, the main theme running through my head since getting home from the play the night before was whether or not I was happy.