Page 52 of Note to Self

“Of course.” My heartstrings tighten again at the sight of Wren’s meagre belongings. At least she will want for nothing now.

It’s another hour before Natalie leaves with promises to keep in touch over the next few days and weeks until we can formally make her ours. Time that, I hope, will pass quickly.

“Slow down, Wren. We’re not going to be late.” I’m sure I didn’t have this much energy when I was thirteen. We weave through the other people in the park and make it to the crossing. “Jabbing the button twenty times won’t make the traffic stop any quicker.”

“We can’t be late for Uncle Merrick’s opening. It’s got your paintings in it.” She rushes into the road as soon as the cars come to a halt.

The new gallery has been Merrick’s dream for years. The one in Calston Cove is an enormous success, thanks to him showcasing so many new artists, through so many mediums from pottery and sea glass art to painters and glass blowers. His gallery is now well respected and sought after by many buyers, bringing more visitors to our tiny town.

The opening of the one in Kensington has not only been a huge investment but also the culmination of so many artists coming together to support his opening. Including me, only I have invested more than my art. When Merrick approached me to offer me a partnership in this, I jumped at the chance. He has made me a lot of money over the past thirteen years. As I have him, apparently.

When we reach the wide glass windows, the one picture I have never sold—the one of me in the rain—hangs to the left.

Wren moans as she looks at the other window. “Daaaad! That’s so embarrassing.”

Merlin takes my hand and laughs. “It’s a beautiful picture, Wren.”

It’s one of her leading her pony from one of the fields. She’s in shorts and a T-shirt and has her head tipped up to the sky, enjoying the sun on her face. The simple smile shows the pleasure and innocence of just enjoying life.

I step up to her and rest my hand on her shoulder. “It’s beautiful because it’s you, and we love you. Let’s go inside.”

Before we can walk inside, someone gasps.

“Trent? Is that you?”

A chill runs through me at hearing the voice of the person I haven’t heard from in years. What are the odds of us being in the same place at the same time, thirteen years after them showing me the door? I turn to face my mother. It’s strange that in my head they haven’t aged, but the elderly woman standing with her hand pressed to her chest like she’s seen a ghost is not what I expected. My father stands upright next to her, his face an iron mask, but his eyes are darting between me and the two most important people in my life. Merlin, holding my hand, and Wren, my arm around her shoulders.

Merrick and Willow stand next to us as an unbreakable wall of support and love.

Merrick’s eyes are on the two people I have no desire to speak to. His eyes flash with anger, and his lip curls up in distaste. Admittedly, my parents look shocked as well, but my mother can’t keep her eyes off the two beautiful girls. Our daughters, the ones she never accepted.

I’m surprised when Merlin speaks. “Take a long look at the grandchildren you will never know.”

My mother’s cheeks turn pink, and more surprisingly, her eyes tear up. My father snaps her out of her gaze and hustles her along.

“Who were they?” Wren asks.

“No one, sweetheart.” I drop a kiss on her forehead.

Merlin squeezes my hand.

Note to self—you owe your husband a blow job for that.