Dreams Claimed (Warfield's Landing, #1) (4 page)

“Let me write up the invoice for these. Do you want us to deliver them?” Stevie’s voice drew him back to the present. He needed to get back to Plan A, if he hadn’t overplayed his hand with his impulsive purchase.

“Hi, Nic.” He offered his hand and she took it. “I just recently discovered your work. A childhood friend of mine took dancing lessons, and I always found it fascinating, but your work is giving me an entirely new perspective.” He delivered his most charming smile.

“Hi, Daniel, pleased to meet you.” At that moment, a phone rang.

“Excuse me.” Nic broke contact with him and reached into a pocket on the messenger bag she was wearing. Looking at the screen, she quirked an eyebrow at Stevie and answered it. Oddly, she held it to her ear, but didn’t say anything. Daniel tried to make sense of what he was seeing.

There was silence. No buzz from the caller on the other end. After a short time, Nic ended the call, checked something and pulled a small notebook. She made a note and put the phone and notebook back in her bag.

Stevie asked, “More of those hang up calls?”

Daniel caught Nic slanting her eyes in his direction, signaling something to Stevie as she replied, “Yeah. Still not sure what’s going on.”

Daniel knew better than to ask, but he vowed that he’d find out what was bothering her as soon as possible. He didn’t understand the connection he felt to Nic, but he knew it was there... and it was real. With that promise, he began to implement Plan A.

“I need to get back to the office shortly, but I’d like to buy you a cup of coffee before then... if you have time, of course. I saw a place right down the street.”

Watching Nic’s expressive face, Daniel could see the instant she decided to agree. She was never going to be a successful poker player.

After finishing up the paper work for his purchases and calling the concierge at his condo, Daniel happily escorted Nic into a nearby coffee shop.

D
aniel pushed the gallery door open and guided Nic out.

As they walked down the street, Daniel caught a glimpse of her shoes. They reminded him of the cloth sneakers CeeCee had worn back when they were kids, but these were bright colors and patterns. Reviewing his memory, he realized these were different than the ones he’d seen her in on the Metro.

“Those shoes are amazing. I’ve never seen anything like them.”

Nic laughed. She stopped on the sidewalk and lifted one foot, displaying the shoe. “These are hand painted originals.”

He was fascinated. “Do you paint them yourself? And if so, enquiring minds want to know why?”

She laughed again. “Well... I started wearing these all the time in grad school. They were cheap and I was on a tight budget. One day I had on a new pair, in white, of course, and I dropped a brush filled with paint right on one. Suddenly, I had on one pristine white shoe and one blotchy, fire engine red shoe.”

He winced sympathetically. “Ouch!”

“Exactly.” She shook her head mournfully. “Back then, I’d wear them until they were rags. Since they were pretty new, it meant I’d have months of one white shoe and one blotchy shoe... not a good look.” She shook her head in mock sorrow. “So, being an artist, I did what artists do... I painted them.”

He laughed. “And... these aren’t those same shoes?”

“Oh, no. Those are long gone, but I now paint them as a matter of course. I buy the white canvas slip-ons several pairs at a time. Stevie, you met her back at the gallery, and I have a shoe painting night. She wears them for casual. We order several pairs each, get take-out, eat dinner, and paint shoes... well, I paint the shoes. She does the prep work.” She wiggled a foot. “They make me smile and... the shoes look better longer, too.”

“So, a good solution all round.”

“Yep.”

They’d arrived at the coffee shop. He opened the door for her and she flashed a smile at him.

As they stood in line for coffee, he asked, “What got you interested in painting dancers?”

“I grew up as a dance studio rug rat. Both my mom and my aunt taught dance. My mom died but my aunt still has the school. If I hadn’t started painting, I probably would have been a dancer.”

“Do you still dance?”

She nodded, her green eyes sparkling. “I don’t take many formal classes now, but I take Zumba classes and I do aerobics on a regular basis. Every now and then, I join a practice class with the ballet company I’ve been painting. And, if I’m lucky enough to find a workshop, I’ll take it. All my life, dance has been one of my coping mechanisms.”

They grabbed a small table and it was his turn. She cocked her head and asked, “So, what do you do?”

“I’m a personal financial advisor.” He shrugged. “It’s a lot of travel and hand holding.”

Her eyes searched his face. “Do you enjoy it?”

Of all the questions he’s been expecting, this one came out of left field. No one had asked him that for a long time... maybe never.

He considered. Finally he said, surprised, “Yeah. Yeah, I do enjoy it. There are aspects that I don’t like and some of my clients can be...” he searched for a word, “needy... But, on the whole I like it. It’s a challenge and I’m helping people. It’s a good fit.”

She nodded approvingly. “I feel for folks who never find that they love...”

“So... how did you get to DC and how long have you been here?”

“I’ve been here about four years... and actually, I followed my best friends here from Richmond, Virginia, when they decided to open an architectural practice. I’ve been in Old Town Alexandria about two years. I moved when I was accepted into the Torpedo Factory, so I’d be within walking distance.” She tilted her head. “How about you?”

“I’ve been here almost ten years and I moved here with my best friends, too. We bought condos in Alexandria, near the King Street Station. CeeCee sold her condo when she got married. Luke and I are still there. Having Luke in the same building meant I could finally get a dog. Bentley spends his time with Luke when I’m out of town.”

“What kind of dog is Bentley?”

“He’s a Golden Retriever. He’s eight now and starting to slow down.”

“Awww. Our next door neighbors had a Golden when I was growing up. I always wanted a dog, but Daddy was allergic.” She finished her coffee and glanced up at the clock. “I guess we should get going. You need to get back to work?”

“Yes, I do, but I’ve been having a great time. I’ll walk you back to the gallery first, though.”

She gathered up her messenger bag and stood while he left the tip on the table. He placed a hand at the small of her back and guided her through the tight maze of tables.

They turned down the alley beside the gallery to get to her van, parked behind the building.

“I’d love to visit the Torpedo Factory and see your studio. If that’s okay with you?”

“That would be wonderful. When would work for you? The weekend?”

“How about Saturday?”

“Saturday is fine. My studio is on the second floor. There are directories and maps all over. I’m tucked away in a far corner so it’s probably best if you look at one of the maps...”

He opened the van door for her saying, “That sounds good. I can follow a map.” He shut the door and spoke through the open window. “I’ll see you Saturday morning.”

He stood and watched as she backed out and headed down the alley.

Whistling quietly, he walked back to the office and considered the case of the mysterious phone call. Something was going on and his instincts told him that his little artist had a problem.

N
ic looked in her rearview mirror. Gorgeous Guy — Daniel, was watching her drive away. Wow. Just... She searched for a word and came back to... Wow. She’d had a long, lean spell with relationships, but now... well, things were looking up. He was coming to see her studio...

She hadn’t planned on anything more than meeting her newest collector. But she’d not only had coffee with him, she’d enjoyed it, AND had invited him to visit her studio? She shook her head in disbelief.

Back in Old Town, she parked the van on the street near her apartment. She was lucky, she managed to snag a spot within 2 blocks of her apartment. All that and she met Gorgeous Guy. Maybe it was time she invested in a PowerBall ticket? Nah.

Did she want to return to the studio? After checking the time, she decided against it. She’d go home, have a leisurely dinner then head out to teach her evening drawing class.

Her phone rang and Nic felt herself tense. In the last two months, since the phone calls started, she’d become the poster child for Pavlov’s training techniques. Her phone rang, her heartbeat quickened, her palms sweat, and her shoulders tensed. Yeesh.

It was Stevie’s ringtone, but that didn’t reduce her reaction. She pulled it out of her bag and double-checked. Stevie. She knew that Stevie wanted to discuss Gorgeous Guy. Daniel, she corrected herself.

“Hey!”

“Hey, Nic. So what did you think? Did you have fun? I am so glad you agreed to coffee. I think he has real potential.” Stevie was high energy and very much a people person... At times like this, Nic had learned it was best to let Stevie go at her own speed. She’d listen, try to keep up, and respond when Stevie paused for breath.

As she walked to her apartment, Nic murmured as needed and let Stevie run on. Finally, as she usually did, Stevie asked, “Well? Well?”

With a laugh, Nic answered. “We had a great time at the coffee shop.” She paused and waited for the squeals to stop. “I invited him to my studio on Saturday.”

“That’s wonderful!” Stevie had been in her corner ever since they met a few years ago. “But, what’s happening with the phone calls? Have they changed pattern?”

About six weeks earlier, Nic had started getting hang up phone calls. She hadn’t paid any attention, figuring that they were just butt dials. She’d casually mentioned them to Stevie one night when they were having dinner in Old Town Alexandria. To her surprise, Stevie had been upset.

When they got back to Stevie’s apartment, Stevie had given Nic a copy of “The Gift of Fear” by Gavin de Becker. “This is serious, Nic. It’s gone on for too long to be a butt dial situation. It looks like you have a stalker. Read this book and we’ll talk about it. You might need to hire professionals.”

“I can’t afford to hire someone because I’m getting ‘mysterious’ phone calls.” She air quoted for emphasis.

Stevie gave her a long look. “Of course you can. You have what, ten million dollars in the Secret Stash? You haven’t touched it. Maybe now you need to use it.”

Stevie must have seen the shock on Nic’s face because she softened her tone. “I know that no one but Thomas, Karyn, and I know about the money... and I understand that you’d prefer to never touch a penny, but if you have a stalker, this could very well be a life or death situation.”

Stevie shrugged and continued, “I know The Widow would probably dance with happiness, but I’d be pretty upset if a wild-eyed, wingnut stalker killed you...”

The teasing tone helped Nic past the shock of the suggestion. She offered a compromise. “I’ll read this tonight.” She waved the copy of “The Gift of Fear”. “Maybe they are just a collection of weird coinkydinks.”

“Promise me you’ll read the book right away. There’s a lot of good information about trusting your instincts... and start documenting the phone calls.” She elaborated in response to Nic’s blank look. “If you track the phone calls, where you are, who is around you, what time and what day, we may see a pattern. It might help us identify who is doing this to you.”

She leaned over and gave Nic a big hug. “I don’t want to lose you!”

Nic hugged her back. “Okay. I’ll take this more seriously. I cross my heart that I’ll read the book tonight.”

“The Gift of Fear” had been a real eye opener.

She’d stayed up late that night, reading every single word. With her usual attention to detail, she’d reread it in its entirety a couple of days later.

Now she worked hard to incorporate its practical suggestions in her every-day life and to listen to her instincts. When she was out walking in Old Town, back and forth from her apartment on King Street to the Torpedo Factory, running errands, or just roaming, she stayed aware of her surroundings.

Her biggest challenge was in her studio at the Torpedo Factory. She always got lost in her painting and drawing. She’d had to be creative to combine caution with her need to immerse herself in the process.

She and Stevie had rearranged the furniture, making it more difficult for someone to enter without her knowledge. Her easel was now placed so she could see out the studio’s interior window and into the hall. She kept the door locked and had posted a cute little note that asked people to knock first... She didn’t want anyone to know that she was having problems, so she’d opted to be light-hearted about the request.

She taught night time drawing classes, but now made it a point to leave with her students. Her studio was in a back corner, so she didn’t go back to it once class was over, she just left and went home. Any supplies or examples she’d brought to show the class she returned to her studio the next day.

Rather than walking from her apartment, she drove on the evenings she taught and parked where the students parked. It was annoying, but a minor issue when faced with the alternative.

Stevie’s next comment brought her back to the present. “I wasn’t sure that you’d be happy about meeting Daniel, especially with Unknown Stalker still calling.”

“I probably wouldn’t have agreed to coffee if I hadn’t gotten that call in your office. I’m so suspicious these days... but since he was standing there, I figured he wasn’t Unknown Stalker.”

O
f all the days!

Nic was in a hurry. It was two days after meeting Daniel at Galley 22. She’d had to step in to replace another Basic Drawing teacher for a morning class. She didn’t mind covering for the other teacher, but the timing was less than perfect.