A Christmas Romance in the Scottish Highlands (Scottish Highlands #6)

Chapter 16

16

ELLA

The Art House was empty of customers when Ella arrived. Still out of breath after her run from The Snug Tea Room, she flipped the sign at the entrance to closed and heaved in a breath. Hot wet tears bubbled down her cheeks as she finally allowed them to flow, letting all her feelings of shame run free.

‘Mae!’ she cried, trying to keep her voice even as she made her way across the gallery.

‘Ella?’ her godmother asked as she appeared from the back room. She was dressed in an immaculate, bright blue suit and her white hair was styled back from her face. She looked cool, curvy and absolutely stunning. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked as she took in Ella’s expression. ‘Come into the back.’ She pointed to the entrance. ‘I’ll shut up shop.’

‘I’ve already done it,’ Ella croaked and then allowed Mae to lead her into an office that was just as elegant and airy as the main gallery. Ella slumped into a white leather chair in front of Mae’s glass desk and Wyatt sat on the floor beside her looking perplexed.

‘I assume you’ve got bad news.’ Her godmother carefully opened her desk drawer and drew out a bottle of single malt and two delicate glasses, before pouring them each a small shot and taking a seat. ‘This is medicinal, designed to loosen tongues and make things seem a little less awful,’ she said kindly, taking out a box of festive chocolates from the drawer as well. ‘From the look on your face, I’m guessing we need these too.’ She ripped off the wrapper and offered the sweets to Ella, plucking one from the box without looking. ‘Are Lucinda or your stepbrothers to blame for your tears?’ Mae asked.

Ella chewed the lump of chocolate – she could barely taste it so swallowed quickly, following it up with a slug of whisky. ‘In a way it’s all three of them. But mostly it’s me…’ Ella finally told her. ‘Am I a total eejit?’ She brushed hair from her eyes and then swiped at her cheeks, mopping up the tears feeling angry. ‘Scratch that, I know I am,’ she said as the picture Alex had drawn swam into her mind. It had been a shock, a moment of awful clarity – one she’d been doing her best to avoid. But now it had all been laid out for her, she couldn’t ignore it.

‘What’s this all about?’ Mae asked gently, picking up her glass and downing her shot before stashing the bottle back into her desk.

‘Clyde and Dane,’ Ella said, glancing above Mae’s desk and taking in the framed drawing of Wyatt that she’d gifted her godmother last Christmas. Her tears started up again. ‘They’re making a fool out of me,’ she croaked. ‘And Lucinda’s letting them. I don’t know if it’s deliberate on her part, but she’s always been?—’

‘Far harder on you than on them; happy to let you take on the responsibility for Magic Mops and do all the work; willing to forgive them for every transgression because they’re her boys ?’ Mae asked dryly. ‘Aye.’ She shrugged. ‘Well, that’s not a secret or a surprise, lass. I’ve been trying to tell you as much for months. It’s got worse since they joined the business.’ She leaned closer. ‘What made you finally see the truth?’

‘I don’t know. I went to see them this morning – they’re off sick again. I had a feeling they were lying.’ She pressed her fingertips into her eyes. ‘I knew it really, I just didn’t want to believe it. Then I saw this sketch…’ Ella sighed, thinking about it again. Had Alex done it to hurt her? Now she’d had a chance to calm down she realised he’d looked upset when Henry had flipped open the pad. And he’d winced each time Hunter had asked a question, as if he’d been just as upset by it as her.

Alex was talented, there was no doubt about that. She’d known immediately that the woman was her. But every stroke of his pencil had made something inside her bleed.

‘A sketch?’ Mae asked, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms. ‘One of Henry’s I assume?’

Ella shook her head. ‘It was Alex,’ she croaked. ‘Henry asked us to draw something or somebody and show the truth.’

Mae’s lips thinned and she shook her head. ‘The man is far too obsessed with showing the truth – as he calls it.’ Her eyes flashed. ‘What’s wrong with softening things or looking at them through rose-tinted spectacles? The truth hurts . That’s why we all enjoy pantomimes and fairy tales. That’s why we celebrate Santa Claus coming at Christmas. It makes us feel good – none of us need to disappear into the rabbit hole called truth .’

She sucked in a long angry breath, clearly making an effort to calm down. ‘Tell me,’ she snapped.

Ella frowned. ‘It’s difficult to explain,’ she admitted. ‘It just…’ She shrugged. ‘The picture implied that I try to fix everything by cleaning it up, that Clyde and Dane are taking advantage and I put all of that before my art. It was really clever actually.’

She could admit that, now she’d had some space, now her feelings weren’t threatening to overwhelm her. ‘It was brilliant, but I didn’t like what it showed. I know I’m tired, I know I’ve been doing too much, but it’s the first time I’ve let myself admit that my stepbrothers have been making a fool out of me. What’s worse is it’s obvious now that everyone knew.’ Ella sighed. ‘The trouble is, I promised Da?—’

‘To set your family on the right path,’ Mae said sternly. ‘I’ve told you before that you didn’t promise to give up everything so they can live the way they want. Do you really think he’d have expected you to give up on your dreams?’ Mae shook her head, her frustration showing in the jerky movement. ‘Or your talent – wasn’t he so proud when you went to college? He was your biggest cheerleader.’

Ella shrugged.

‘I’m sorry you’re upset, lass, but I’m not sorry you’ve finally seen the truth. Prince Charming deserves a medal as far as I’m concerned.’ Mae paused. ‘Or perhaps a crown would be more fitting.’ Her smile was wry. ‘You’ve been living as Cinderella for real for too long and it’s way past time you wised up and changed something.’

She pointed to the sketch Ella had drawn which was hanging above her head. It was a picture of Wyatt laying in a meadow in the sunshine with butterflies and bees fluttering around his head. ‘You’re talented and you’re wasting it. Living a life you don’t even want. You’ve no idea how many of my clients have admired your picture – I’m talking to a few dozen at least.’ She wafted a hand.

‘Have they?’ Ella asked as Mae’s words seemed to snap something inside her, releasing a flood of warmth.

‘Aye.’ Mae nodded. ‘You’re good enough to make a living at this. You’ve just got to—’ She lifted a shoulder. ‘Learn to put yourself and your art first.’

Wyatt made a woofing sound and got up and wagged his tail making his big body shake.

‘Even the bloodhound agrees,’ Mae joked as someone began to hammer on the door at the entrance of the art gallery. ‘The sign on the door says closed. Sometimes, I wonder if people can read!’ Mae huffed, rising from her chair. ‘Wait there,’ she ordered, disappearing out of the office towards the front of the gallery.

Ella slumped back in her seat and gazed up at the picture of Wyatt again. She’d drawn it on impulse one evening when she’d missed another of Henry’s lessons. She’d been frustrated and Wyatt had been gazing at her with his big reproachful eyes – so she’d just picked up her pencil and started to sketch. She could still feel the way the energy had flowed through her as she’d worked with the pencil. She’d barely slept that night and she’d been so happy with the result that she’d framed it for Mae.

Ella frowned. How long had it been since she’d had the time to find that flow? How many of Henry’s lessons has she missed while she’d been dusting or mopping a stranger’s house in place of her stepbrothers?

‘I’ve no idea what you’re doing here,’ Mae snapped as she marched back into the office, and Ella spun round and saw Henry and Sprout. ‘Haven’t you upset the lass enough?’

The older man sighed and shoved his hands in the pockets of his battered jeans as he stopped and silently looked around Mae’s office before his attention came to rest on Ella. ‘I came to see if you were okay,’ he said, scouring her face and wincing.

‘Where’s Alex?’ Ella asked, glaring behind Henry into the gallery, feeling something pitch inside her chest as she imagined he’d followed.

Henry snorted. ‘In the back room with the McBride sisters and young Hunter, being tortured with pins and scissors I expect.’

‘Seems fitting,’ Mae said lightly.

‘The lad’s got your cardigan with him,’ Henry told Ella. ‘You left it behind and he was reluctant to part with it when I offered to give it to you.’

Ella frowned. There would be no way of avoiding him now.

‘What were you thinking setting them a task like that?’ Mae suddenly barked at Henry, narrowing her eyes.

He shrugged. ‘I didn’t tell the lad to draw Ella,’ he muttered, looking upset. ‘The intention wasn’t to hurt anybody,’ he said quietly. ‘The purpose was for them to draw the truth as they saw it.’ He winced.

Mae’s eyes flashed. ‘I’ve heard that one before,’ she ground out, putting distance between them as she strode to the other side of her desk and sat, her back straight and her chin tilting as she glared at him. ‘Only sometimes the truth does hurt.’ Her eyes burned into Henry’s, and Ella saw him sway on his feet.

‘I still don’t understand why,’ he said faintly, and Ella could hear an ache in his voice, perhaps even a hint of regret. ‘I’ve told you a million times, the truth celebrates what’s there ,’ he insisted, his forehead pinching. ‘It doesn’t hide or pretend; it honours and acknowledges.’

‘Or it eviscerates,’ Mae snapped back. ‘Showing every fault and flaw, every line, wrinkle and extra layer of flesh in pencil and paint for people to study and analyse is cruel.’ The words were delivered with such venom, Henry flinched.

Ella leaned back in her chair as her attention flipped back and forth between the older couple – did they remember she was here?

Her godmother was obviously furious – but not just that, she was hurt. Ella didn’t know all the details of what had happened between them. It had been obvious from the minute their relationship ended that her godmother didn’t want to share. Ella only knew it had something to do with a painting Henry had done of Mae. But now things were falling into place. Ella could only imagine how upset Mae would be if the older man had painted a picture as truthful and detailed as the one he’d done of Aggie. Or as devastating as the one Alex had done of her.

Mae had always been concerned with her looks – perhaps a hangover from her days as a model. She was terrified of her emerging lines, wrinkles and what she often called ‘too much Mae’ . Had her mentor drawn attention to those on canvas, had he shared that with her godmother too?

‘Aging can be beautiful,’ Henry said rapidly, and Ella got the feeling this was an argument he’d already used because her godmother made an angry tutting sound. ‘I simply drew attention to what I thought was worth celebrating. To all the things that I lov—’ He stopped and swallowed. ‘I never expected…’ Henry looked down at his hands. ‘I’ve told you I’m sorry, I’ve no idea what I can do to put it right,’ he said unhappily.

‘Maybe you can’t,’ Mae snapped. ‘Or perhaps you could if you could see beyond your ego and figure it out.’

Henry looked shocked, and Ella thought she could see something clicking in his mind. Then he frowned and shrugged before his eyes rested back on Ella and his expression was blank. ‘I’m sorry that you were upset by Alex’s picture – but even if I could, I wouldn’t want him to take it back.’

He ignored Mae’s curse.

‘I know the truth can hurt, but I also believe it can set us free.’ He shrugged. ‘You’ve been doing lessons with me for almost a year. In the time I’ve been trying to teach you, you’ve missed more hours in my studio than you’ve turned up for. The lad helped me to really see that. I think he did the same for you?’ He raised an eyebrow and Ella nodded.

He drew in a long breath. ‘I came here to make sure you were okay, but I also need to add my weight to what we’ve both realised today. Ella – you have to commit to your art,’ he insisted. He pinched his lips and took a moment to study the picture of Wyatt above Mae’s head.

‘I only have one protégé a year – and that’s Alex this time – which, until you, was always a hard and fast rule, designed to stop me from being pulled away from my own painting.’

His forehead creased. ‘I made an exception for you because you’re so talented and you were keen to learn. But…’ He sighed. ‘If you’re not going to give me your absolute best – I’m going to start thinking that I’m wasting my time. Which means unless you start turning up to my studio every day, I’m not going to be able to teach you anymore, lass.’

‘What?’ Ella blurted as her heart began to beat rapidly. ‘You can’t…’ She stopped because Henry Lockhart could do whatever he wanted.

‘It’s for your own good,’ Henry said quietly.

Ella looked at Mae, her eyes wide, but her godmother just shrugged. ‘For once, I’m in agreement with the old man. I’m sorry, Ella,’ she said kindly. ‘It’s way past time you learned to put yourself first.’

‘I can’t,’ Ella said as her head swam with the promises she’d made to her father. If she did what Henry wanted, she’d be letting her da down. But she didn’t want to give up her art either. She had no idea what to do.