Authors: Kate Vale
“I k
now what you mean.” Matt crossed his arms over his chest. “She’s not hurting anymore. A good thing.”
“I guess.” Wes’ jaw worked. “Are you going back to your old law office, now that you don’t have to take care of
Mom?”
“
No. My law practice is here now.” Would Gillian have asked for his help had he been with the big firm? He imagined her seeking out someone else, maybe someone like TJ, with his family-oriented practice.
“You’re sure you want to live over the store, like Gramps used to talk about?”
Matt chuckled. “You remember that? Never thought I’d like it, but there’s no traffic to fight in the morning.”
“I guess not.” Wes reached for a magazine as he sl
ouched into the easy chair. “Want to go out for a long lunch, or do you have other clients to see this afternoon?”
“Let me check.” He descended the stairs to ask Ursula.
A week later
Gillian entered
Cammie’s Closet
, her heart pounding against her ribs. She clutched the box to her chest. The note cards she’d had printed and boxed were neatly arranged. Now that she was here to sell her note cards, she felt like she was selling her children.
Her
children. How could she do this? What if Cammie didn’t like them? What if her customers ignored them? Maybe she was making a mistake. Two customers followed her through the door and jostled her as they passed. She looked around the store for an escape route.
“Gillian! Come on in.
” Cammie waved to her over the heads of the people clustered near the cash register. “I’ve been hoping you’d stop by.”
Caught. Trapped like a rat.
Gillian walked in the direction of Cammie’s office. She sat down in the nearest chair, the box on her lap.
“Let me see what you’ve done with those sketches.”
Cammie plucked a box off Gillian’s lap and plopped it onto her desk. She flipped it open and pulled out one of the small boxes, slipped off the see-through top and dumped the note cards on the table. She’d opened the one with the labels. “Perfect,” she murmured as she glanced at first one and then another of the cards. “Twenty to a box? Four per drawing? These are lovely.” She reached in and pulled out another box, this time of the unlabeled sketches. “Very nice.”
She beamed at Gillian. “I’d like to put them on sale for eight bucks a box. I’ll pay you half that.”
Gillian couldn’t move, stunned at how quickly Cammie had set a retail price and offered her a cut. She’d been stumped about how to price the note cards. Lauren had suggested she ask double what it had cost her to have them made, but now that a price was being offered, her costs had flown out of her head. She should have brought her spreadsheet with her. “Uh. Give me a minute, please. I didn’t think you’d be pricing them that high.” She’d imagined them at a price of about two-fifty a box. But that had been her cost, now that her brain seemed to be working again. Four dollars a box? Hadn’t Lauren said something about getting twice what it had cost her?
“Are you sure
that’s what you want to charge?”
“Absolutely. Most of my
note cards go for ten bucks or higher, but this is your introduction to the market. I’d like to set them up on their own table with a big ‘Introductory Sale’ sign. If they go as well as I think they will, I’ll put them out next month for more. And, if you have some sketches that are picture-size, I’d like to carry them, too. Maybe introduce you with a signing day for them. What do you think about that? I love to help out local artists.”
Cammie’s
enthusiasm washed over Gillian, heating her to her toes. She smiled at the store owner. “Well, okay. I
do
have other sketches you might like. I’ve also been doing some watercolors.”
“Wonderful. Why don’t you bring them in? I open late on Wednesdays—so I can do book work in the morning and ordering. Can you be here by ten?”
“Works for me.” She made a mental note.
Ten. Wednesday. Wow!
Quinn and Bianca were coming over for dinner on Tuesday. She could hardly wait to tell them. She rose from her seat and reached for the box then pulled her hands back and laughed. “I guess they’re yours now. If they sell.”
“I’m sure they will. I’ll call you by the end of the week to let you know how they’re
going.”
Gillian nodded. “Okay.” She felt
as if she floated home. Was this really the start of a new career, her own business? Her cheeks ached from smiling. Who knew that Nick letting her go would lead to this?
Gillian
ate a quick lunch and entered her office, now given over almost completely to her sketching. The large window that looked into her back garden poured light into the room. She set up her large easel for another watercolor and pulled out several others to ready them for framing.
The phone rang in the kitchen and she walked over to answer it.
“Quinn. I’m glad you called. You’re still coming over for dinner, you and Bianca?”
“
Yes,” he replied, his voice strained. “We need to talk about this trust you’ve set up.”
“You’re not happy about it? I
was so hoping you would be. Can I call you later? I’m the middle of a painting.” She hung up the phone before her son could ask another question.
Matt peered at the four pictures Ursula had brought to the office. She’d insisted he add some decorative touches to the blank wall in his office. After weeks of inaction on his part, she’d taken that particular bull by the horns and brought him samples. The first batch of too-modern pieces were easy to reject. What he saw now was entirely different.
The
watercolors were representative of the Seattle area, but each was different in its own way. When he glanced at the scene showing a ferry pulling up to a dock, he could almost smell the salty brine created by the frothy waves under the prow of the big boat. The picture of a purple- and pink-tinged, ice-covered volcanic peak had to be of a mountain other than Mount Rainier, its shape not quite as rounded. The artist had labeled it “Baker Alpenglow.” Or maybe the owner of
Cammie’s Closet
had added the name.
Matt stared at the other pictures. The one in shades of green reminded him of his last
bike ride near Snoqualmie Falls before Wes had to return to base. They’d stopped to catch their breath near a huge old-growth tree, its diameter huge compared to the smaller trees through which the trail wound. The picture in his hands was almost a photo image of that old tree. But in the foreground near the corner, easy to miss if one concentrated on the much larger trunk lay a nurse log and next to it a tiny tree, just beginning its life in the forest. The kind of tree one could easily crush with a careless step over the log. The label on this one? “Old and Young.” Nice.
He set the four pictures on his desk and played with how they should be hung on the wall. The last of the quartet
featured a trail that angled out of the greenery of the woods onto a sandy beach. The subtle shadows along the trail reminded him of footprints children might make. Interesting that Ursula had selected these four.
“What do you think?” his
receptionist asked.
He looked up.
“You’ve been standing there long?” She was leaning against the door frame.
“No. Just since I finished the filing and cleaned off my desk. It’s Friday. You know I hate to leave
my desk in a mess.”
“These pictures … the artist really knows the area, don’t you think?”
Ursula’s smile tinged her words. “Cammie told me the artist has lived here all her life.”
“It shows.
What do I owe you?”
“
Cammie said she’d send you a bill. I told her you’d like them. Here’s a hammer and nails so you can hang them. Might as well put them up.”
He chuckled. “Want to make sure I hang them straight?”
“Sure.” She handed him the first picture and then the second. “You might want to bring the third one down just a bit and over to the right.”
“But then it won’t be right under the first one.”
“Exactly my point. It’ll show them off better if they’re not marching in lockstep on your wall. You’re not in the Army, you know, even if your older son is.”
Matt grinned over his shoulder at Ursula. “Ah. I see what you mean. Your way of saying I’m too rigid, too uptight.”
“Did I say that?” She chuckled. “This is a law office. People come here stressed, looking for a solution to their problems. These pictures will help them relax, get them to see that you’re here to
help
them, not make them more nervous.”
“Point taken.” He stepped back after adjusting the final picture as it hung on the wall. “How do they look?”
“Good. Your choice of artwork is excellent.” Her tone suggested she was laughing at him.
“You mean
your
choice, don’t you? By the way, who’s the artist?”
“
Don’t you know? Look in the lower right-hand corner.”
Matt leaned clo
ser to the picture of the ferryboat. Looking like part of the water disturbed by the boat approaching the dock was a swirl of letters. He checked the other pictures. Similar treatments had been used on them as well, but now that he’d seen it on the first print, the name was clearly visible in the other three, burning his fingertips as he touched the edge of the highest picture on the wall.
His pulse picked up speed as his blood began to race. “Is that why you selected these? Because she
was a client?”
“Absolutely n
ot. I picked them because they’re so good. Cammie says her work is flying out the door. Numbered prints, every one. You got them at a bargain. When the first one hundred are sold, their value is going to skyrocket. Consider yourself lucky when you get the bill.” Ursula laughed as she turned toward the front door. “I’ll see you on Monday.”
Chapter 1
8
“
Gilly, check out this message.” Lauren pointed to the laptop screen. “I think you’ve got a hot one here.”
“Read it to me. I’m still tossing the salad fixings.”
“Okay. Here goes.
My dear Fabulous, y
ou are the woman of my dreams.
Lauren snorted. “He’s laying it on a bit thick, don’t you think?”
I’ve been waiting for someone like you for too many years to count. Been married before, and I’m looking for the love of the rest of my life. Only now I’m not looking anymore. Because I’ve found you.
“Oh, brother.”
Gillian snorted, dried her hands and handed Lauren a salad bowl. “Come on and sit down. We can go back to my messages after lunch.”
“That
site. Have you been doing much with it lately, since you tossed Mo in my direction? Not that I mind,” she giggled.
Gillian
shook her head. “I haven’t been on it in weeks. Too much to do with the wedding and everything.”
“What ever happened to those guys
you went out with before the wedding?”
“They’ve moved on, I guess. I heard from
Wade a couple of times, but he hasn’t invited me for another boat ride. And, I didn’t want to risk another clinch with him.”
“What about Finn, the guy at the glass museum?”
“Not a word. My life is back to usual. Sans men.” She chuckled and concentrated on her salad, relieved Lauren didn’t ask her about Matt. Her last contact with him had left her mentally panting and so tired from forcing herself to concentrate only on the questions she’d had about the trust that she decided to take a nap when she got home. As if that had worked. She hadn’t been able to escape the look of him that kept intruding, his question about going out.
“Earth to Gillian.”
Lauren cleared her throat. “Wonder who you were thinking about, Gilly.”
When Gillian didn’t reply,
Lauren changed the subject. “What’s happening with your drawings? Is Cammie selling your note cards?”
A topic Gillian
was happy
to talk about. “You’re not going to believe this. She not only sold the first twenty, she asked for another fifty! And, she’s carrying my watercolors, too. That afternoon when she hung them was so exciting! People
oohed
and
aahed
, and several sold that day. I’m so glad she put me in touch with that printer who reproduced them as numbered prints.”
“Y
ou’ve got yourself a new career now. Good for you. Are you painting every day?”
“Almost. Some days I go to the park to sketch. Last weekend, I
took a drive over to Carkeek Park and did some charcoals. The water was calm as glass and there were lots of sailboats out. I just love our long summer days.”
Lauren plunged her fork into her salad and waved with her other hand.
“Me too. But let’s hurry up with lunch. I want to go back to that email I read. Maybe that man, whatever his name is, is the next love of your life. Like he said.”
Minutes later, Gillian and Lauren went into the office and opened the laptop. “Here it is.”
I’m guessing you live in Seattle or somewhere nearby. At least I hope so. I would love to
meet you, perhaps for a coffee. Do you prefer Starbucks or Tully’s, or maybe one of the independent coffee places? Please get back to me. I’m counting the minutes. Always and ever, Hal Englemann.
“Hmm. That’s interesting. Most guys use something other than their real name,” Gillian remarked.
“Really? You
have
to email him. Wait. What’s he look like?” Lauren stared at the picture, but it told her nothing. It showed a man bowing deeply, his head covered by a hat and his arms splayed outward, as if he was on stage. Another picture showed a dog, panting goofily in the direction of the camera with the caption, “My dog, Smiley.”
“He says he’s been married before
, Gilly. Why don’t you ask him to explain?”
“Okay.”
Dear Hal, your dog is cute. Were you widowed or divorced? I guess it doesn’t really matter, but you said it had been years ago. I’m just curious. Yes, I live in Seattle. Do you?
“Ask him when he might like to meet
. Maybe suggest a place,” Lauren urged.
Coffee woul
d be nice. Have you a favorite spot? I like the Starbucks near Northgate. Would that be convenient for you?
“I don’t want to see
m too eager, Lauren.”
“That’s good. What you said.
Let’s see if he replies.”
Gillian hit the send button. “Want more tea? It’s warm in here. Let’s
go sit outside.”
She refilled their ice tea glasses and was about to open the slider into the back yard when her computer pinged, alerting her to a new email.
Lauren chuckled. “If that’s Hal, he must have been waiting for your reply. Let’s check.”
My dear Fab. You are indeed the woman of my dreams. The Starbucks at Northgate is one of my favorite places. I’m going
to the mall to buy a birthday gift for my mother. Next Sunday after church. Could we meet at Starbucks around one-thirty? I’ll wear a cowboy hat so you’ll know it’s me. Not my usual garb, but likely to stand out around here. By, the way, what is your name? I’m sure it’s prettier than Fab or Fabulous. Fabrina, maybe? Always and ever, Hal.
PS I’m a widower.
“Are you going to do it? Meet him for coffee?”
Gillian’s breath caught. Should
she try again? Her previous online dates hadn’t ended all that well. But this man seemed nice enough. He had a dog and he was buying a birthday present for his mother. He probably treasured family relationships, a good thing. And he’d answered her question about his marital status.
“I’ll get back to him
later. I scheduled myself for a brisk walk around the park this afternoon.”
Lauren chuckled. “To make him more eager?”
“No. To think about how I want to reply. You know my last two online dates weren’t all that good.”
“
You saw the glass museum and you had a boat ride. What was so bad about that?”
“You know what I mean, Lauren.”
Her best friend waved her hands in the air. “I get it. No sparks. And those nasty comments from Wade. So, make this guy wait until after your walk. My vacuum is calling my name. See you.” Lauren followed her out the slider and detoured to the gate in the fence between their houses.
Gillian strolled over to the park, glad she was in a sleeveless blouse and a pair of shorts. The sun was high in the sky, warming the top of her head and her shoulders. She walked the entire perimeter of the park, moving into the grassy strips when a cyclist rode by. She was about to head for home when she decided to sit on one of the benches near the fountain. A light breeze carried occasional sprays in her direction. The fountain mists felt good on her skin. She stretched out her legs and leaned back against the bench, content to sit, emptying her brain of everything but enjoyment of the day.
“I hope you’re not asleep.”
Matt’s signature voice stirred her. She turned her head in his direction, aware of the blood coursing in her veins, the butterflies that began racing in her stomach, seeking a way out. He wore cycling shorts and a tight-fitting shirt without sleeves. A light sheen of sweat called attention to the muscles of his arms and legs. His bike helmet dangled from his left hand. Her heart sped up.
No more wedding ring.
When had he removed it? A hint of where it had been could barely be seen. What woman wouldn’t be attracted to him the way he looked, the way he sounded?
“Mind if I sit down?” He slid onto the bench a
nd set his helmet between them. “How’ve you been?” His mouth quirked up in a slight grin.
A part of her brain was warning her he sounded too casual, too friendly. Th
at same part was urging her to be nice, to not look this particular gift horse in the mouth, a mouth she remembered all too well when his had melded with hers. “Good. My note cards are selling. I have them in two different gift shops now. You know, the collection that includes my sketch of your hand.”
“
You have a new career.”
She chuckled. “I still consider myself retired, but yes, a new career
, or at least something that keeps me busy. What about you?”
“I scheduled a break for myself today. It was too nice to sit inside the office when I had no appointments scheduled.
I’ve been meaning to call you. About dinner.”
She angled her head away from the sunlight, wishing she’d thought to bring her sunglasses.
Matt sat forward. “Is that better?”
“Yes. Thanks.”
“So.” He shifted on the bench. “Are you free?” He stopped talking and seemed to suck in a lungful of air then coughed. “Tonight? Or would tomorrow be better? For dinner? Or should I conclude you’d rather not?”
Gillian
shaded her eyes the sun. Matt seemed nervous. Was he unsure she would say yes? She watched his right foot creating little puffballs of dust as it patted the ground in front of the bench.
“Tonight would be fine.” She chuckled. “My social calendar isn’t nearly as full as it used to be when I was working.”
Matt draped one arm along the back of the bench, close enough that she could feel its warmth. “Oh?”
“
The few times I’ve gone out have mostly been with online dates.” Why had she mentioned those dates? And not Mo? But she preferred to think of him as a friend. Only a friend.
Matt’s forehead furrowed slightly.
“After Nick fired me, I signed myself up on one of those online dating sites. Something Quinn encouraged. I’ve met a couple of men that way. Saw them in person, I mean.”
Matt’s lips seemed
to thin as he peered at her, his eyes squinting slightly when he removed his sunglasses. “I think you said something about that.”
“
Yes, well …” She recalled how embarrassed she’d been when Quinn had shown up at the glass museum to check out Finn and that day on the boat. “Actually, nothing happened—when I went out with them.”
No sparks, either. Even after Wade kissed me. Especially
after
he kissed me.
Matt shuffled his feet.
“People on those dating sites aren’t always honest, Gillian. To be safe, you should get enough information to check them out
before
you decide to meet them.”
“
My son said something similar.” She glanced at the ground.
Matt
picked up his helmet and placed it on the other side of the bench as he shifted closer to her. “You’re a beautiful woman, Gillian. Why do you need to go online if you were looking for male companionship?”
She hoped her cheeks weren’t as re
d as they felt. It would be too obvious to fan herself, so she forced her hands to remain in her lap. “If we’re going out to dinner tonight, I should be going.” She stood up. “To get ready. Mind if I ask where we’ll be eating? So I’ll know what to wear?”
“I
know a little place near the Arboretum. Nice views. Quiet.”
She nodded. “I think I know the place.”
Matt was about to stand up when a cocker spaniel, its leash trailing on the grass behind him, trotted over to their bench. Matt reached down and patted the dog, who took the attention as an invitation to sit on the man’s feet. He remained silent, seeming to concentrate on scratching behind the dog’s silky ears, its tail thumping against the leg of the bench, little moans of pleasure telling Gillian how much the dog enjoyed Matt’s attentions.
“Then I’ll see you at seven.”
His words brought her back to their plan for dinner, an event that was now generating a clenching stomach, a heart that was bouncing against her ribs, sending her blood into all corners and crevices, crevices that were demanding more such attention. She wondered idly what Quinn would think of her having dinner with Matt, her attorney.
Former
attorney, Matt had said when he’d first asked. She sighed.
Matt
placed his hand on her arm. “Does your son approve?”
“What?”
“That you’re going to dinner with me.”
“I
never mentioned it.” She pressed her lips together and straightened her back. “I don’t need his approval, Matt.”
Matt’s lips quirked up on one side. “I guess I assumed since he kn
ew about your online dates that you would have told him …”
“No, I didn’t.” She hoped her words were firm. The
electric shocks that had first skittered up her arm at his touch continued to send tingles straight through her heart into her core. She pulled her arm away and those corners and crevices whose messages she had been trying to ignore screamed their objection. Why was Matt the only man who generated such a reaction? Even when they were just sitting in the park, talking?
He
watched as a young boy ran up to the dog, now sprawled next to Matt’s feet, and grabbed the leash.