“Absolutely not,” Destiny said flatly. “I no longer show my work.”
“Just like someone else in the family,” Kathleen scoffed. “Why not? I know you’re good, Destiny. You’ve let me see your paintings.”
“Painting was something I did professionally years ago. Now I merely dabble.”
“The way Ben claims to dabble?”
“Ben’s a genius!” Destiny said fiercely. “Concentrate on winning him over, my dear, and forget about me.”
“Hard to do, when you’re here and he’s not.”
“He’ll come around in time. In the meantime, I’m sure you’ll find something wonderful for the gallery for the holiday season,” Destiny said. “Even at the last second, there are dozens of local artists who’d be thrilled by an invitation to show their works here. Ask one of them. They’ll accept. You’re very persuasive, after all.”
Kathleen gave her a wry look. “I don’t seem to be doing so well with you. Maybe all Carltons are immune to my charms.”
“Maybe you simply need to formulate a new strategy and try a little harder,” Destiny advised. Her expression turned thoughtful. “My nephew has a sweet tooth. Since you bake all those delicious little pastries you serve at your events here, I’m sure you could use that skill to your advantage.”
Apparently satisfied that she’d planted her seed for the day, Destiny glanced at her watch and feigned shock. “Oh, dear, look at the time. I’m late. I just wanted to stop by and tell you how delighted I was to see that review and to tell you again that I’m so glad you were able to join us yesterday.”
“Thanks for including me,” Kathleen said, giving up the battle of wits with Destiny for now. A retreat seemed in order, since it seemed unlikely she’d be able to change Destiny’s mind.
“I really enjoyed meeting the rest of your family,” she added with total sincerity, “Beth and Melanie especially. Chatting with them was very enlightening.”
Destiny gave her a sharp look. “Don’t believe everything you’re told, Kathleen.”
Kathleen chuckled at her worried expression. “Yes, I can see why you wouldn’t want me taking their advice at face value.”
“What did those two tell you?” she asked, clearly ready to defend herself against all charges.
“Nothing I hadn’t already figured out for myself,” Kathleen said. “You’re a clever woman, Destiny. And a force to be reckoned with.”
Destiny squared her shoulders. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said.
“I thought you might,” Kathleen said, her grin spreading. “I’m not entirely convinced they meant it that way, though.”
“Those two have nothing to complain about,” Destiny grumbled. “If it weren’t for me giving them and my nephews a timely nudge, their lives would be very different.”
“I’m sure they would all concede that,” Kathleen agreed. “But may I give you a piece of advice?”
“Of course.”
“Don’t count on getting your way where Ben and I are concerned.”
Destiny looked amused. “Because you’re made of tougher stuff?”
“Precisely.”
“Darling, that only means you’ll fall even faster and harder.”
Abandoning Kathleen to ponder that, she swept out of the gallery, leaving only the scent of her expensive perfume and her warning to linger in the air.
Ben slapped a heavy layer of dark, swirling paint on the canvas and regarded it bleakly. It pretty much mirrored his mood ever since Thanksgiving. Anyone looking at the painting would see nothing but turmoil and confusion. Some fool critic would probably look at it and see evidence of madness, and maybe he had gone a little mad from the moment he’d met Kathleen Dugan. Heaven knew, he couldn’t get her out of his head, which was something he hadn’t expected.
Nor had he been able to paint, not with the delicate touch required to translate nature into art. The fiasco in front of him had started out to be a painting of Canada geese heading north, but he’d messed it up so badly, he’d simply started layering coats of paint over the disaster, swirling together colors simply to rid himself of the restless desire to be doing something artistic even when his talent seemed to have deserted him. Who knew? Maybe he’d discover a whole new style. Looking at the canvas, though, it didn’t seem likely.
He was about to put a fresh canvas on the easel and start over when he heard the slam of a car door. He glanced outside and saw Mack climbing out of his SUV. He figured his big brother had probably come to gloat. One look at the painting in front of Ben and even without an ounce of artistic talent of his own, Mack would recognize that his brother was in a funk. To avoid that, Ben took the still-damp canvas and shoved it out of sight, then grabbed a blank one and sat it on the easel.