Where We Left Off - Romeo Alexander Page 0,5

normal day, content that he was there.

For better or worse, he was home.

Nathaniel

Leaning forward, Nathaniel let his eyes drift over the details of the painting. The artist’s work had changed so much in the past few years, and he still found himself trying to mentally trace the timeline of each new difference that popped up.

This one was of a small section of beach, at the shoreline. It was hard to tell from the lighting if it was sunrise or sunset. To the left of the picture, half-buried in the sand was a twisted, dirty plastic bag carelessly left behind. Beneath it, creeping out from under the edge of the bag, was a small, reedy growth, clearly trying to find sunlight even as it was strangled by the plastic. Yet from the right of the painting, a hand, smeared with dirt and covered with the grit of wet sand, was reaching down as though to take the bag away and let the plant finally breathe.

Grim reality was the artist, Omega’s, original style, and while it was still there, it came across as less grim and simply more stark. Where once reality had been offered up as an almost oppressive weight, now it was presented with an air of hope and the light of happiness.

Stationed in a far corner of the gallery, he allowed himself to examine the painting contentedly. The handful of other people in the room were all but ignoring him as he stared, leaving him to his peaceful reverie. Whether that meant no one in the room recognized him or simply were locked in their own little worlds didn’t matter much to him, so long as he was left alone.

The soft click of heels from behind told him his peace wasn’t meant to last. It never did.

“Nathaniel Carter, as I live and breathe,” came a bright female voice.

Taking a moment to compose his face to one of friendly interest, he turned around to face her. It took him a moment to recognize the dark-haired woman standing behind him, head cocked slightly as she looked him over.

“Blair Atkins,” he finally said, voice warm. “It’s been a little while.”

“Last I heard, you were supposed to be on the other side of the country for school,” Blair said, clasping a small purse in front of her.

His father would have been proud at how well he managed to not only hide his grimace but instead turn it into a gracious smile. “Yes, a little time off for the summer. Better to come back and see things back home from a more mature and educated perspective before returning.”

That, at least, was the lie he was telling everyone, handcrafted by his father. Dane Carter was not a man who would ever allow a smear upon his family name. If that meant hastily covering up his son’s slipping grades and attendance at an Ivy League school and lying to everyone’s face as to why Nathaniel was back, so be it. After all, the good mayor of Port Dale had to look good to his constituents and financial backers. And if he was going to have a chance at Governor in a couple of years, and as a senator sometime after that, well, nothing could get in the way.

Blair beamed. “Well, I can certainly see sense in that. I imagine it must be interesting, being back after having been gone for so long.”

“Yes,” he agreed, glad it sounded earnest. “It’s been rather nice, seeing the sights of Port Dale. I never quite had the chance when I was younger.”

Blair chuckled, stepping forward to stand beside him and stare up at the painting. “Well, you were a minor. Your father certainly wasted no time shipping you off to get your higher education. At least mine allowed me a little time to enjoy some freedom before shipping me off.”

“That must have been nice,” he told her.

Blair sighed. “Well, there are some benefits to not being a member of what I refer to as the trunk of the tree. Fewer expectations and demands put upon you. Were I my uncle’s daughter, I expect I would have gone through the same treatment as you. Which I suppose was far better than what poor Theo went through.”

Ah right, son of the patriarch of the Atkins family. The last Nathaniel had heard, the man had been trouble for years and had no intention of stopping as an adult. Of course, that had all been gossip while he’d been growing up, whispered behind backs,