Chapter 4
Oregon's cold early-winter rain soaked through my coat.
I searched every metal bin at two secondhand sorting facilities and recovered only three small paintings.
A piece of wire had gouged a deep line through the paint on one, leaving an ugly scar.
But the portrait of my mother, the one I'd spent six whole months painting, was still nowhere to be found.
The worker sorting the items shook his head.
"Unframed wooden panels might've already been crushed."
I stood in the muddy rainwater, my fingertips purple with cold.
It was eight by the time I got home.
The house was warm.
Grant came to meet me, and my favorite lemon roast chicken sat on the dining table.
Beside it were two neatly arranged sets of brand-new brushes and unopened linen canvases.
He was trying to smooth everything over.
"You must be freezing?"
He reached for my wet coat, his eyes eager to please.
"I bought you new supplies. Eat first. I'll help you look tomorrow."
The sound of chewing gum came from the stairs.
Brooke came down in a silk robe, carrying a glass of Coke with ice.
She glanced at the muddy, damaged painting panels in my hands and snorted.
"Oh my God, Tessa. You actually went digging through the trash?"
She leaned against the banister and inspected her manicure.
"You're filthy, and you smell. You need to clean yourself up."
I ignored her and took out my vibrating phone.
My friend Naomi had sent me a screenshot from social media.
Ten minutes earlier, Brooke had posted an update.
The photos showed the upstairs room packed with shelving, alongside an old picture of my empty studio.
The caption read:
[Best brother and sister-in-law in the world! They offered to clear out their art studio to support my dream of starting a business. So grateful for you both.]
The comments were full of praise for me, calling me understanding, generous, and thoughtful.
Nausea churned in my stomach.
I strode over and shoved the screen in front of Brooke's face.
"Delete it."
Brooke blew on her nails without even looking up.
"Why? I'm saying something nice about you, Tessa."
"A lot of my customers like brands with a personal touch. That post's getting tons of views. It's bringing people to my store, too."
She even curled her lip.
"I'm already using your room anyway. Might as well make the most of it."
I turned to Grant.
"Make her take it down right now and post a correction saying I never agreed to any of this."
Grant glanced at the screen and frowned slightly.
But he didn't reprimand Brooke.
He came over and took my icy hand.
"Brooke's being immature. She exaggerated a little. But she was trying to thank you."
As he spoke, he tried to steer me toward the dining table.
"Eat first. You've been out looking for hours. You must be hungry. I'll make sure she fixes the post tomorrow, okay?"
I pulled my hand free.
I looked at Grant, so eager to placate me, yet still brushing me off, then at Brooke, who had settled on the couch and was chewing her gum as though nothing had happened.
The heat was on, and the smell of roast chicken filled the house.
But I felt cold to the bone.