Chapter 11

“I’m an amateur, nothing more,” Brian protested, ducking his head at Conley’s praise as he took back the drawing pad.

“I disagree. I think you have talent. As much talent as Alistair did. Of course when I told him so he demurred, the same way you are. ‘It’s a hobby, nothing more’ he’d insist and I couldn’t convince him differently.”

Brian worried his lip between his teeth. “I sometimes dream of taking art classes.”

“Well, now you can afford to.”

“In a year, maybe, when I’ve fulfilled the provisions of Grandpa’s will.”

Conley decided now was not the time to argue the point, when Brian was finally starting to open up a bit. “Until then,” he said instead, “keep on drawing, and maybe try your hand at painting. I know for a fact Alistair has a ton of supplies in his studio. I’m sure he’d rather you use them than have to toss them because they…Do oils and acrylics have an expiration date?”

“Probably.” Brian stood, starting to the door. “I might do that, but right now—”