Page 22 of Save Me
The next painting was a close-up of a pelican, followed by small colorful beach huts on the beach with surf boards sitting beside them. The next was of a tabby cat lying in the sun.
Each painting was no bigger than his hand yet full of details.
“These are amazing.” He glanced over at her. “Do you sell them?”
She stopped rolling the dough and looked up at him before laughing. “No.”
“Why not?” he asked. “I know for a fact that paintings like this will easily sell around here. Tourists eat things like this up. They’re small enough to get home and remind them of their trip here.”
She tilted her head. “I guess I never thought of it like that. I could only afford the small canvasses.” She shrugged. “So I painted small.”
He pulled out a few more of her paintings. Each one was more impressive than the last.
“You’re quiet over there,” she said, getting his attention.
“Just in awe.” He set the paintings down and moved back over to sit at the bar and watch her as she put the cinnamon rolls into the oven. “If you bake half as good as you paint, the cinnamon rolls are going to be epic.”
She smiled. “What hidden talents do you have?” she asked him, moving over to make a cup of hot tea. “Coffee?”
He shook his head at the offer and thought about her question for a moment. “I used to skateboard and surf.”
“Skateboard?” She nodded. “Long board or short?”
“Both. I had a motorcycle in high school. It was cheaper than a car.”
“When you live in paradise, you don’t need a car,” she said with a smile. “I don’t have one.”
“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask about that. How do you and Emma get around?”
“Key West has these wonderful things called sidewalks and for farther trips, busses,” she joked, and he smiled.
“Groceries?” he asked.
“We have a wagon. The store is only a few blocks away and we enjoy the walk.” Crissy shrugged and then sipped her tea. “Not a coffee drinker?”
“I am, but I’ve been trying to cut back.”
“Health issues?”
“No, just… being proactive. My dad has high blood pressure. Which is why everyone has been bugging him to retire.”
“It must come with the job,” she said. “It can’t be easy being police chief of a whole island.”
He laughed. “It’s a heck of a lot easier than Miami.”
“Everything here is easier than Miami,” she said with a slight sigh.
He hated to do it, but since they had the time without interruptions, he asked. “What about your dad?”
He expected her to look annoyed, but she just shifted and leaned on the counter a little more. “He moved to a property in Copeland shortly after Carl and I got married. I lost track of him for a while.” She paused for a moment. “Until after I was in the news.” Her eyes locked with his. “Then he got in touch with me at the hospital and started asking if I was going to get some sort of settlement. He claimed that if I did, he was due some of it after putting up with my shit for years.”
He felt his anger wake. “Seriously?”
She sighed and took another sip of her tea. “I should have expected it. When I married Carl, my dad asked him for some compensation. You know, since my new husband would be stealing his cook and maid, he expected to be paid for the loss.”
Brock thought about his own father and the stark contrast between the two men. The gentle, kindhearted man who had raised him had never asked for anything from his child, but Crissy’s father had treated her like property. Something to be used and exploited.
“Have you heard from him since moving here?” he asked.
