Declan spent Saturday packing. Not that he had much to pack. He'd arrived at the rented cottage the previous Sunday, and the storm that had caused the evacuation of most of the town had hit on Tuesday. Some of Declan's things were still in suitcases; he'd unpacked his art supplies first thing, but had gotten distracted by painting before he'd gotten much else out.
The rental was up on the cottage today, but Declan had managed to find a room at one of the town's bed and breakfasts. Since the place had been full, it had cost him almost double the regular price, but his artwork brought enough income for him to afford it. He'd managed to barter the cost down from what the owners had originally wanted by promising them two free paintings. Even in this out of the way town, the name Declan Morrissey was worth something.
Declan loaded his things into his car for the short drive to the bed and breakfast, then called the cottage's owner to let her know he was ready to leave. She had to inspect the place before the next renters arrived the following morning. "Leave me a note with your address, and I'll send the deposit check," she told him.
"Actually, I'll still be in town," Declan replied. "I'm staying at The Pines. If you could just give me a call when the check's ready, I can come get it."
"No problem. Wish I'd known you wanted to stay; I could have arranged something for you."
"It was a rather unexpected decision."
"What changed your mind?"
"I ran into an old friend the night of the storm."
"Oh, nice. So you decided to stay and reconnect?"
"Something like that." Declan didn't want to go into too much detail. Not knowing how open-minded the woman might be, he wasn't sure he should tell her that he'd encountered his former lover. Especially since that lover was another man.
"Well, good luck with it, and I'll call you after I do the inspection," the woman said. "I assume there was no storm damage."
"Just some small branches and leaves down in the yard."
"Did you take care of them?"
"I didn't know I'd be expected to."
"You should have either cleaned it up or contacted me. I'll see how it looks, but that might mean you get less back of your deposit."
Keeping up the grounds of the cottage hadn't been mentioned in the agreement Declan had signed, but he didn't attempt to argue. He was sure the woman would do whatever she could to avoid having to return his entire five hundred dollar security deposit. "That's fine," he said. "I'll be waiting to hear from you." He flipped his cell shut and put it in his pocket.
With some regret, Declan drove the few blocks from the cottage to the bed and breakfast. The cottage was beside the shore, with ocean views that had truly inspired him, and he'd been alone there. The bed and breakfast had ocean views only from the third floor rooms, which were all taken, and he would be sharing the building with several other people. At least he would have a room to himself. But after years of not having to share space with anyone, he wasn't sure just one room to himself would be enough.
He checked into the B&B and started carting his things up to the small second-floor room they'd given him. There wasn't enough space for everything he had with him; some of it would have to remain in his car trunk. Hopefully the B&B would be a temporary thing.
If it wasn't for Shane, he wouldn't have even been there. Shane, the first man he'd loved. The only man he'd loved, if he was honest. He and Shane had met when they were nineteen, during their second year of college, and they'd been together for ten years. Then a job offer had prompted Shane to move. Declan had refused to go with him, and Shane had seemingly moved on, starting a new relationship and even buying a house with his new lover. A house here, in the town Declan had unknowingly chosen for his week's vacation.
After Shane had left, Declan had thrown himself into teaching and painting. Other than a few dates, he'd put his personal life on hold. He and Shane had kept in touch, though since Shane's letters were mailed from the nearby city where he worked, Declan had never been sure exactly where Shane lived. Declan didn't want to admit it, even to himself, but he had never really let go of Shane. And when he'd seen Shane at the emergency shelter the night of the storm, he'd known that they would try again.
Shane hadn't gotten over Declan either, apparently. He'd said that his feelings for Declan were one of the main reasons he and his new lover had split up after five years together. If Declan had believed in fate, he would have said that fate had brought him to this town and caused the storm so that he could find Shane again. But he didn't believe that. Or so he told himself.
By the time he got his things arranged as well as he could, his stomach was growling. It was mid-afternoon, too late for lunch and too early for supper, but he hadn't eaten at all that day. He went down to the desk and asked, "Where would you recommend eating?"
"There's a nice diner a couple streets over," the man at the desk replied. "Got good food, good portion sizes. Ours is better, of course, but we only serve breakfast. I'd recommend them for other meals. You can also pick up some things at the grocery store; just label it. We have a fridge, a microwave, and a hot plate for guests' use."
"Thank you, I might do that," Declan replied. "I'm not sure yet how long I'll be staying, and eating out could get expensive."
"As long as you're willing to pay our rates, you can stay as long as you like. Sorry we have to charge you so much, but we had to bump someone to give you a room, and we had to refund them half again what they'd paid."
"I understand. Don't worry, money isn't a problem." Though it would be if he hadn't sold any pieces lately. He made a mental note to go to the local library on Monday; surely they would have an Internet connection so he could check his emails and get an update from the gallery that sold most of his work.
"Yes, we've heard of you. My wife did a little research when you offered us your paintings. We'd actually like to talk to you about commissioning you to do some work; if you're interested, we might be able to let you stay free for a while."
"I don't do commissions, but thank you," Declan said. "I'll be back later; I really need to get something to eat."
"Of course. Let us know if you need anything."
Declan walked out the door. He needed peace and quiet, nothing more. Declan was proud of his artwork, but he hated discussing it with others. There were always too many questions and comments, too many people asking whether he'd paint something for them. Or paint them. This was why Declan worked with a gallery; they could handle all the questions, and as long as Declan sent them new work on a regular basis and showed up once in a while for openings, he didn't have to interact with anyone.
