Chapter 36

MACKENZIE

I 've been standing outside the studio for the last five minutes, contemplating how I'm going to do what I should have done days ago. I wish I'd had the courage to approach Grace earlier, but I needed that time to process. Now, as I gaze through the windows to the woman inside, I feel guilty for making her wait this long to resolve things with me.

She hasn't seen me yet. She's too busy shuffling chairs and equipment around, reorganising the space for the exhibition tomorrow night. She doesn't look up until she hears the tiny bell ring above the door as I step into the room.

"Mackenzie." There's an uncertainty in her stare and I hate that we both feel as though we have to tread lightly around each other.

"Hi," I say timidly.

"I was hoping you would come back." There's a hint of a smile on her lips as she takes a hesitant step closer.

"I'm sorry it took me so long." I shuffle uncomfortably on the spot, the artwork in my hands suddenly heavier.

"What have you got there?" She gestures to the metre wide canvas that sat blank in my room for weeks, now finally finished.

Chewing on my bottom lip, I flip it around in my hands, revealing the project that's taken most of my waking hours to complete.

Her smile widens then she cups her hands over her mouth, nodding in approval. "I see you took Betty's advice."

"Yeah. I guess I did." I huff out a nervous laugh. "It was a bit of an effort getting it here on the bus."

"I bet." Her eyes are glassy as she takes in the brush work, the colours I spent painstaking hours to get just right. "It's wonderful, Mackenzie. Will you put it in the exhibition?"

I nod, placing it up against the nearest wall. "I'd love that."

An uncomfortable silence settles over the room, both of us standing face to face wondering which one of us will be the first to address the situation that hangs in the air between us. I open my mouth to say something, but Grace beats me to it.

"I'm sorry," she blurts. "For not being there for you throughout your life. If I'd have known about you, you would never have spent a single moment feeling alone."

"I know." Her apology has my eyes stinging with tears. "And I don't blame you for any of this. My mother was right."

She tilts her head to the side, a veil of sorrow falling over her features. "She was?"

I nod. "Any kid would be lucky to have you as their grandmother."

Her eyes are misty as she takes another step toward me. "I wish I knew," she weeps. "I would have held you through all the bad times."

I close the gap between us, throwing my arms around her neck as tears begin to stream freely from my eyes. I can't hold them back now, no matter how hard I try. I feel safe in her embrace as I melt into her warmth, her fingers gently stroking my hair.

"I'm glad you finally found me," I whisper.

"Me too," she replies.

I'm not sure how much time passes as we stand like this, but it's long enough for the awkward air around us to dissolve.

My heart swells with hope. That a day will come where I will know all of the things about Grace that I would have already known had we been acquainted from the time of my birth. I have hope for a future where we'll have a normal relationship, but for now, this is enough. This is more than I could have ever asked for.

Grace finally unravels her arms from around my back, taking my hands in hers. "You got any plans for the rest of the day?"

I shake my head, running my thumb along my eyelid to catch the moisture. "Not really. I came to help you set up for tomorrow night."

"I was hoping you might say that." She smiles, then cups my cheeks in her soft, delicate hands. "But first, coffee. I have some lost time to make up for with my granddaughter."

I beam back at her, my head bobbing between her palms. "Okay. I'd like that."

She swings an arm around my shoulder and leads me to the café next door. She orders us two cappuccinos and a slice of the cake of the day, and we find a seat by the window.

Then over the most delicious piece of orange and poppyseed cake with cream cheese frosting, she catches me up on the details of her life and I fill her in on some of mine.

I cry when she tells me about my grandfather's death, and she cries when I tell her about my father and Ethan. I give her the full story on how I came to live in Cliff Haven, about how without Henley's help I don't know where I'd be. I tell her about Kristen, the sister I never knew I had.

Then I tell her about Dylan. She tells me I have a keeper.

When she leaves the table to find the restroom, I find myself lost in thought, staring out at the boats in the marina outside.

I've never been a believer in fate. I'd never had any reason to be. But sitting here in a café with my long-lost grandmother, in a life that doesn't nearly resemble the one I had a year ago, I can't help but wonder where I'd be if Henley hadn't come for me. If he'd never met Kristen.

I can't go down the path of wondering about all the what ifs. I can only be thankful for where I am today, but there will always be a heaviness in my heart when I think of my mum.

"Mackenzie?" Grace's voice jolts me from my thoughts and my head snaps in her direction. She's seated across from me once again, having returned from the restroom. "Are you alright?"

"Yes." I nod. "I was just wondering about my mother. About what she would think if she could see us right now."

"I think she'd be so proud of you."

I squeeze my eyes shut, willing myself not to cry again. I've shed enough tears this week to last a lifetime. "I hope so."

We drain the last of our coffees and head back to the studio. Grace slides the key into the lock and the door flies open with a twist of her wrist, but neither of us take a step inside. We're too preoccupied with the rumbling of an engine behind us as it pulls up to the curb.

Grace cranes her neck, searching for the commotion. "What in the world?"

A familiar woman exits the cherry red Ferrari, her fiery auburn hair ablaze in the sunlight. Her stilettos clack on the pavement as she moves hurriedly toward us.

"Claire? Hey," I say, turning back to Grace. "This is Dylan's sister, Claire."

"Hi, Mackenzie," she replies.

It's not until she flips her Prada sunglasses on top of her head that I notice the worry on her face. "Is everything okay?"

"Not exactly," she replies. "It's Dylan."

"What do you mean?" Panic sets in, my lungs deprived of air as I struggle to take my next breath. "What happened?"

Claire, seeing my distress, waves her hands in front of me. "It's not like that. He's okay. He's just having a hard day."

"Okay," I say. This isn't making me feel any better.

She turns to Grace. "You must be Mackenzie's grandmother."

"Yes." Grace nods, a hint of suspicion in her glance.

"Sorry," I say, realising I hadn't given Grace a formal introduction. "Claire, this is Grace."

"It's nice to meet you." Claire offers a smile, but there's a trace of sadness hidden within it. "I understand that the building your studio is located in has been bought out by the Abbott Property Group."

"Yes." Grace lets out a sigh, a flicker of sadness in her expression.

"What? You didn't mention that before," I say. "What does that mean?"

"It means that all businesses on the premises – " Claire launches into an explanation but is abruptly cut off by Grace.

"It means," my grandmother interrupts. "That I'm going to have to find a new location for the studio."

"But you love this studio."

I remember how Kristen had mentioned that the Abstract Palette had been here since she was a young girl. Grace had been running this studio here for more than half her lifetime. Even before I knew she was my grandmother, I had known it meant everything to her.

"I'm so sorry," Claire says, her tone genuinely sincere. "I only found out just this morning that the contract had been drawn up. Our father has plans to turn this building into a boutique hotel. Dylan blames himself."

"Why would he blame himself?" I ask.

Surely, this has nothing to do with him. He wants nothing to do with his father's company anymore.

"He mentioned that you were here at the studio last week," she explains. "I remembered that this was where the Elmwood building was, and the name attracted our father's interest. He obviously had done some research after Dylan returned to Cliff Haven and sought out the property for the project. Dylan feels that if he'd never mentioned the town at all, you wouldn't be in this mess."

"Oh my god." I can see why Dylan would take responsibility for this but the idea that he's blaming himself has my heart hurting. And so does the fact that Grace will no longer be able to run the studio here. "Grace, what are we going to do?"

"Oh, developers have been sniffing around here for years wanting to turn this place into a cinema, a bowling alley and now a hotel." She casually waves her hand, seemingly unbothered by this news. "The residents have always fought hard to petition against them, but I guess the times are changing. After tonight's exhibition, I'll be closing down the studio."

"But you love art. It's in your blood. It's in our blood." I wait for a frown that doesn't come. Instead, a smile brightens Grace's face. "Why aren't you upset about this?"

"Like I said, this isn't the first-time investors or developers have threatened to take the studio, but this is the first time I feel ready to let it go."

"I still don't understand."

She takes my hand in hers, her demeanour reasonably calm for a person who is about to lose their livelihood. "I'm ready to move on. I've secured a new location. It's a beautiful spot right across from the beach."

"You have?"

"I have." She nods, beaming back at me. "In Cliff Haven."

"In Cliff Haven," I repeat dumbly. "Really?"

"Yes. I'm going to sign the lease tomorrow morning. So, to answer your question, we are going to open up a brand-new studio."

"We?"

She nods again. "That is, if you'd like to help me run it."

My eyes go wide as I stand there in complete shock. "I don't know what to say."

"Say what's in your heart," she tells me.

When I'd moved to Cliff Haven, my priority was to get a job. Any job. I've never had time to wonder about what my dream career might look like. Only now that Grace is offering it right up to me do I realise that being an artist is my ultimate ambition, and to be able to share my love for art the way that she does, that would be a dream.

"I'd love to."

She pulls me in, squeezing me in a hug as Claire's voice breaks through the air. I'd forgotten for a moment that she was even standing there. "This is so not how I thought this conversation would go. I'm relieved though."

I let go of Grace, my focus now on the man that has put me first every time. The man that now needs me to assure him everything is okay. "Where is he? Where's Dylan?"

"I dropped him off near the Cliff Haven marina," she replies. "He said he needed time and space to think about what his next move would be. He doesn't even know that I'm here."

"Wait. What next move?" I ask, stepping toward Claire. "What are you not telling me?"

She breathes out a long sigh. "Dad told Dylan he would drop the Elmwood Building if he came back to the company."

"Don't tell me he'd actually consider that." I can't believe he would go to such lengths to save my grandmother's art studio.

Except I can believe it.

Because he's the quintessential nice guy. The very quality that made me cautious of his character is now the thing that I love about him most.

"Honestly? I don't think he knows what he's doing right now. He was gutted when he saw the documents on the desk this morning," she explains. "He was mumbling something about selling a boat and giving up diving."

"He can't do that. I won't let him." I turn to Grace, my voice laced with concern. "I need to go to him."

"Go," Grace instructs firmly.

"But the gallery," I say. "Will you be okay?"

"I've got it covered," she replies. "Go get your boy and tell him the good news."

"Come on." Claire says, nodding in the direction of the Ferrari behind her. "I'll take you to him."