“Are you sure he doesn’t mind us coming here?” Noah clutched his sketchbook against his chest, nervousness and excitement radiating off him. “I don’t want to bother him.”

“When I called him yesterday, he told me he likes to meet young artists. And he said today would be perfect if it rained, because he wouldn’t be opening his taco stand.” Steve swept a hand over the misty, gray setting. “Mother Nature cooperated.”

“I’ve never met a real artist.”

“You’ll like Charley. Everyone does.”

“Are you two friends?”

“Everyone who knows Charley is his friend. I’ve been eating his tacos and shooting the breeze with him for years.” Though not as much lately with Beth living in town and wanting her space.

Noah fingered the edge of the sketchbook. “Is he really famous?”

“In the art world. But around here, he’s just Charley. And I bet he’s going to love the tide pool sketch you showed me while we had our ice cream.” He leaned around to the back seat and snagged the plastic bag he’d brought along. “Why don’t you put your drawings in this and we’ll go in?”

After the boy complied, the two of them jogged toward the door of the studio through the intensifying rain. Before he could knock, a muffled voice called through the door.

“Come on in, Steve. It’s open.”

He gave the entry a quick inspection. No security cameras that he could see, but there must be one in the area. However, it was too wet to linger outside trying to spot it.

“You heard the man. Let’s do this.” He twisted the knob and ushered Noah through the door.

As he stepped inside, Steve gave the high-ceilinged, light-filled studio a sweep. Numerous shelves held books and painting supplies, canvases in various stages of completion were propped against the walls, and a small octagonal window on the far side offered a glimpse of the sea. A faint smell of paint and solvents hung in the air, and classical music emanated from a vintage turntable.

The room was as unique and eclectic as the man himself.

“Welcome.” Charley smiled at them from his seat in front of an easel. “Did you have any trouble finding me?” He set his brush down, wiped his hands on a rag, and stood.

“No. Your directions were excellent.” Steve laid a hand on Noah’s shoulder and introduced him.

The boy was fairly quivering with excitement as he said hello and gave the man’s lair a round-eyed survey.

“I’m happy to meet you, Noah.” Charley crossed to them and extended his hand.

The boy shook it. “Th-thank you for letting us come.”

“It’s always a treat to meet other artists.”

Color suffused the boy’s cheeks. “I’m not a real artist. Drawing is a hobby.”