The Guest Book by Marybeth Whalen Read Free Book Online Page A

tell stories, Macy. They capture people’s imaginations, draw them in. Which iswhy all that mess about letting you go if you don’t come back at his bidding is just Hank blowing steam. You know that, right?”
    “Don’t be so sure, Avis. Hank makes it clear every chance he gets that he didn’t hire me to paint windows. That he lets me do them as a creative outlet. For me.”
    According to Hank, he could take or leave her artwork. Macy had come to believe most people felt that way about it.
    “Hank’s full of it,” Avis snorted. “Don’t listen to that fool.”
    Macy sometimes wondered about this life of hers, how at twenty-six years old she had ended up with a woman twenty years older than her as a best friend. And yet, she would never trade Avis for a friend her own age. Avis’s perspective and wisecracks had gotten Macy through many challenges.
    Avis had been the one to train Macy her first day on the job, when Macy was still in a state of shock over being left by Chase. Even before she had spoken, Avis’s wide, kind smile had told Macy that this was a person who saw the best in people. It was Avis who discovered Macy’s artistic bent and begged her to start painting signs and, eventually, the large front window of the store. Sometimes when Macy was painting or when a customer stopped to remark on her work, she wanted to hug Avis for making her paint again. She’d all but stopped painting after that last vacation, that last picture she’d left in the guest book.
    “One of these days,” Avis said, “you’re going to waltz in here and tell me you’re quitting because you’ve finally decided to go to art school.” She cracked her illegal bubble gum. “And no one’s going to be happier for you than me.”
    “Don’t I wish.” Macy rolled her eyes like she always did,dismissing the idea of pursuing a dream that seemed to get further away with each passing year. There was Emma to think about and keeping a roof over their heads to worry about and other realities of being a single parent that concerned Macy. More and more, she knew her pipe dream of being a “real” artist was about as likely as Chase sticking around long term. She had resigned herself to the fact that painting the windows of the grocery store and making fancy signs to delight customers was going to be as close as she came to that dream. Instead of her own show in a gallery, she would have the unveiling of the seasonal windows she painted. Instead of reviews from art critics, she would have kind comments from the regulars.
    She put the finishing touches on the beach umbrella she was painting. In the painting, a little girl was digging in the sand by the ocean while two parents rested under the umbrella. She found herself painting what she wished were true. In Macy’s art, her life was perfect. She could draw what she wanted, and there it would stay until the picture got changed because Hank grew tired of it.
    Macy glanced at the clock again. She had been at work for hours, but the time hadn’t flown like she’d hoped.
    Avis sidled up to her. “You leaving in the morning?”
    “Yep. Mom and Max and Emma are packing the car today, getting all the last-minute stuff done. By the time I get home, they’re supposed to have the car ready to pull out of the drive first thing in the morning.”
    Avis smiled at her. “I hope you guys have a blast.” The older woman rested her hand on Macy’s back and looked overher own shoulder for Hank. “Lord knows you’ve got it coming to you.” Avis paused before speaking again. “
He’s
not going to be there, right?”
    “Are you kidding?” Macy said. “My mom and Max wouldn’t stand for it.”
    “Good. I just didn’t want you caving. I know how persuasive he can be,” Avis said, rising up to her full stature of five feet two inches and putting up her fists like a prize fighter. “Remember —you’ll answer to me if you do.” She winked at Macy. “Just don’t waste this time obsessing