by Nancy Thayer
“Aw, shucks, ma’am,” Slade said, but Natalie could tell he was pleased by her compliment.
Morgan came down the stairs. “Sorry, guys,” she whispered. “I’m not going. Petey wiped himself out at the Hortons’. I just fed him and got him down to bed. He couldn’t wait to fall asleep. Josh hasn’t answered his phone, so I’ve got to stay here.”
“Natalie’s going to stay,” Slade said.
Morgan blinked.
“I’m tired, too, Morgan,” Natalie said. “I’d like nothing more than to sit here in the absolute silence with a book. And, of course, to keep an ear out in case Petey cries.”
“I can’t let you do that,” Morgan said. “You must be hungry.”
“Nope. Just tired.”
“She’s an artist,” Slade said, sounding only slightly sarcastic. “She vants to be alone.”
“I get that way, too,” Morgan said. “Oh, Natalie, if you really want to—”
Slade’s cell rang. He looked at it, clicked it on, listened, clicked it off. He said, “That was Bella. She got hold of Ben. He’s coming, too.”
Natalie forced a blithe smile. “I really want to stay here. Just let me run home and get a book.” She hurried out the door, nearly falling down the porch steps. So now she’d arranged it that Morgan could be with Ben, and she, Natalie, couldn’t. Oh, well, what did it matter? Ben didn’t seem to notice if she was there or not.
She grabbed up the novel she was reading and one of the library’s heavy art books and headed back to Morgan’s. Morgan was all aflutter with excitement about going out.
“Natalie, you are the best!” She grabbed Natalie, hugged her, kissed her cheek. “I need tonight, I really do.”
“Yeah,” Slade said. “We can discuss sewage.”
Morgan chuckled and gave Slade a light punch on the shoulder.
Slade and Morgan went off, both tall, lanky, and tanned, chatting away, leaning toward each other, and Slade said something as he opened the van door for Morgan, and Morgan laughed, throwing back her head so her long hair tumbled past her shoulders. Morgan is just sexy, Natalie thought. She can’t help herself. Maybe Natalie ought to grow her own hair long like that. Like a damned shampoo ad.
Natalie tiptoed up the stairs and peeked into Petey’s bedroom. The toddler slept in a crib. He was on his stomach, knees up, bum high in the air, wearing light summer pajamas covered with baseballs and catcher’s mitts. He was sleeping soundly, his dimpled hand twitching now and then, his eyelashes curving against his cheek.
He was the most beautiful thing in the world.
She wanted to draw him, just like that.
Her paper, easel, and charcoal were of course at her house. For a moment she debated phoning Dennis to ask him to come over for just a moment while she ran home, but decided against it. Bella’s father had seemed pretty whipped this afternoon. She couldn’t take a picture of Petey; the flash might wake him.
She tiptoed back downstairs and into the kitchen. She spotted plenty of pens and pencils in a cup by the phone book and notepad. The notepad was too small even for a sketch. She searched around until she found where Morgan had neatly stashed the folded brown grocery bags. She fished a pair of scissors out of the utility drawer and cut the bag apart until she had a good-sized piece of paper. She grabbed a black pen and tiptoed back up the stairs.
Downstairs, a door slammed. Startled out of her own private world, Natalie jumped. Fortunately, her pen was not on the paper, so she didn’t mar the drawing.
“Hello?” a man called.
In his crib, Petey shifted, turning over so that he faced the wall. Quietly, Natalie rose and crept away from his door and down the stairs.
Josh was in the kitchen, drinking water from the faucet. He was wearing khakis and a polo shirt. Not really business attire, but perhaps on a Sunday he didn’t need to wear a suit into Bio-Green. When he saw Natalie, he frowned. “Natalie?”
“Hi, Josh. I’m babysitting for Morgan. She went out to eat with the rest of the painting gang.”
“Painting gang?” For a moment, Josh looked puzzled. Then he remembered, and his face fell. He sagged against the sink. “Oh shit. I am in deep trouble now.”
“Why is that?” Natalie was thirsty, too. She wished he’d move away from the faucet.
“I forgot about the painting party. Morgan will be pissed.” He rubbed his face with his hands.
“We didn’t finish,” Natalie informed him helpfully. “There’s still a lot of window trim to do.”
Josh went to the refrigerator and took out a cold beer, then slumped in a chair at the kitchen table. “I’ve got to work tomorrow.”
Natalie grabbed a glass and ran herself a long drink of water. “After working all day today?”
“It’s a demanding job,” Josh told her. “Morgan knows that. Knew it when we agreed to move here.” Natalie had put the drawing on the kitchen table, and suddenly Josh noticed it. “Wow. Did you just do that?”
“I did.” Natalie slid into a chair, welcoming the support of the curved back. “I peeked in on him and he was so irresistible.… I didn’t wake him,” she hastened to add.
“He’s hard to wake.” Josh pulled the sketch over closer to him. “This is amazing, Natalie.”
“Thanks.” She loved the way Josh’s face softened as he studied the image of his sleeping son. Something else shadowed Josh’s expression—Natalie couldn’t read it. She shifted in her chair to check the clock behind his back. “I have no idea how late it is. When I’m drawing, I lose track of time.”
“I know how that is,” Josh murmured.
She raised an eyebrow. “Are you writing a publication presentation for Bio-Green?”
“No.” Josh looked up at Natalie, and once again something flashed over his face. His green eyes sparked with a decision. “No, Natalie, I’m not. What I’m writing is a novel.”
Her jaw dropped. “You’re writing a novel?”
He slapped his forehead. “Damn. I shouldn’t have told you. Please don’t tell Morgan. She’ll go out of her mind. I don’t want to tell her until it’s a done deal.”
“And that could be years, right?”
Josh almost squirmed with electric energy. “Wrong. I’m deep into it. I’ve got an agent. He’s seen the first three chapters, and he’s pushing me to hurry up and finish it. He’s got two different publishers interested.”
“My God, Josh! That’s huge!”
Josh lit up at her words, but attempted a modest shrug. “I wouldn’t say huge exactly. For me, it’s huge. For me, it’s a dream come true. But whenever I finish, whatever advance I get for the book, it’s certainly not going to compare with the kind of money Bio-Green’s paying me. And that’s the kind of money that makes it possible to live in a place like this. That’s the kind of money that’s going to pay for Petey’s college education. Do you have any idea how much it costs to send a kid to college? Over fifty thousand dollars! A year!”
“Oh God, money.” Natalie shook her head. “The evil necessity. I couldn’t spend a year painting here if my aunt hadn’t given me her house and a stipend to keep me ‘caretaking.’ I don’t know what I’ll do when she returns from her trip around the world.”
“Where did you live before?” Josh leaned back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head.
“Manhattan. For a couple of years. Boston before that. I took lessons, and I drew when I could, but I spent most of my time working as a waitress, and I lived in a shoebox with cockroaches and slutty roommates.”
Josh laughed. “I’ve been there.” His face went solemn. “It’s fine, if it’s just you and your work. The work is all that matters. If you have a good day, you can sleep on an old mattress in a closet and not care. But once you love someone, and especially once you have a child, the whole game changes. I couldn’t let Morgan and Petey live that way.”
“I see what you’re saying, but, Josh, isn’t there a kind of halfway spot? I mean, this place”—she spread her arms out, indicating the gleaming st
ate-of-the-art kitchen and the modern house around them—“is a palace. Do you guys have to live in quite so much luxury?”
“It’s a long story,” Josh told her, then corrected himself. “Actually, it’s not a long story. It’s very simple. This house is part of the Bio-Green package.”
“You mean they’re paying for it?”
“Hell, no. I mean the CEO of Bio-Green wants me to be a living advertisement for the success of his company. Part of the deal was that I buy a house that would ‘represent’ Bio-Green’s eminence in the scientific race.”
“Ah,” Natalie said. “I see.” She considered this. “Tell me about your novel.”
Josh tilted his head so his eyes scanned the ceiling. After a moment, he said, “I don’t know. I feel kind of bad even telling you I’m working on a book.” He clunked his chair back down on all four legs. “I haven’t told anyone else. It’s just that seeing this drawing of Petey … It’s hard not to tell Morgan. I want to tell her, but I know it’s going to freak her out.”
“Why?”
Josh shrugged. “We’re not in a very good place right now. She already thinks I spend too much time working. If she knew I was working for Bio-Green and writing a novel …”
The front door opened and closed. Natalie and Josh both jerked in surprise. They stared at each other guiltily. Natalie rolled up her drawing of Petey; she’d show it to Morgan another time.
“You won’t mention this, right?” Josh whispered.
“Right,” Natalie promised.
“Hi, Natalie.” Morgan ambled into the kitchen, giving Natalie a great big smile. She stretched her arms high, swaying her head so that her long hair wafted sensually from side to side. She was a wee bit lit.
Natalie stood up. “Petey didn’t wake up at all. Slept like an angel.”
“He is an angel,” Morgan cooed. Leaning forward, she kissed Natalie on the cheek. “Thanks so much for staying with him, Nat. I needed tonight. I don’t know when I’ve had so much fun with people I like.”
Morgan still hadn’t spoken to Josh, and Natalie was aware of some hidden message in her words about people she liked. Time for Natalie to leave the O’Keefes alone.
“Okay, then, see you tomorrow.” Natalie reached over, picked up her drawing of Petey, and headed for the door.
“I’m off to bed,” Morgan purred. “I’m just exhausted. All that painting, and the heat … and the margaritas.” She laughed and left the room, heading for the stairs.
Natalie shot Josh a funny face. “Bye.”
Josh said, “Bye.” He plunked his elbows on the table and buried his face in his hands. Actually, Natalie couldn’t help thinking, it was an arresting image. That thick red hair going in all directions, the droop of the big, wide shoulders, so expressive of despair or at least discouragement. It was a posture every human being had taken at some time in life …
She forced herself to walk down the hall. By the time she was out the door, Morgan had disappeared at the top of the stairs.
18
Bella, Slade, Dennis, and Brady carried furniture from the Barnabys’ garage and the back of the building into the front of the shop and arranged it where Bella, with Slade’s help, decided. They carefully leaned ladders against the glowing walls, held Natalie’s abstracts and charcoals up, waited patiently for Bella’s decision, hammered in nails and picture holders, and hung the artwork.
Aaron wasn’t there. He was posing for Natalie. That was what Bella wanted him to do, because she wanted to hang that charcoal drawing in Bella’s, too.
In the late afternoon, Brady jumped on his bike and cycled away, legs pumping, to join his friends. Dennis kissed Bella and drove home to take a nap. Slade and Bella stood in the shop, looking around with admiration and excitement. Upon entering the opened front door, the eye fell immediately upon the long carved antique desk Bella had bought from Mr. Wheeler. Above it hung one of Natalie’s abstracts. The combination of new and old was arresting. To the right, against the wall, was one of Louise’s display cases, now arranged with Penny Aristides’s jewelry, glittering beneath the lights. Pieces of furniture stood against two other walls, some paired with an abstract, and by themselves on a wall were two of Natalie’s large charcoal drawings. Louise. And Petey. Matted in white, framed in gold, they were breathtaking.
“It looks good, doesn’t it?” Bella asked Slade.
Slade grinned. “I’ve got a surprise for you. Stay here. No. Go in the back. Sit down at the table and stay there until I call you.”
“Oh, Slade …”
“Trust me?”
She had to laugh. “Okay.” She went into the back.
Actually, it was a relief to sit at the table. Her back ached from hefting furniture and paintings. She yawned. She heard shuffling noises in the front room, and odd thumps she couldn’t figure out.
“You can come in now,” Slade called.
When she entered the large room, she saw at once what Slade had done. The pine floor was now covered with several thick Persian carpets, their deep hues and exotic patterns truly magical.
“I brought them from Boston,” Slade explained. “A friend of mine’s a dealer. Art Hannoush. I said I wanted to try them on commission. I mean, I think you should try them on commission.”
“They’re magnificent,” Bella breathed, kneeling to run her hand over the silky pelt.
“I think they add something to the shop,” Slade said. “They complete it.”
“You’re right. Brilliant, Slade. But you’ll have to help me with the pricing and the commission.”
“You got it.” Slade bent down to comb out the fringe of a rug with his fingers. “So are these where you’d like them? The positioning okay?”
Bella went outside and walked through the door, trying to see the room with a fresh eye. “Perfect,” she decided.
“When’s the grand opening?” Slade asked.
“This Saturday. I’ve got an ad in the paper, and Dad’s friend is coming out to take some photos and do a write-up.”
“Cool.” Slade studied the room. “You know, don’t you, that it takes about three years for a new business to show a profit?”
“Now you tell me,” Bella joked. “Of course I know. And I know expensive inventory like this doesn’t move fast. Still, oh, Slade, I’m so excited! Saturday evening, I’m having a champagne celebration here, and Penny Aristides will bring her husband and her gang, and Morgan’s promised to bring Josh’s boss and his wife, and they have money out the ying yang, and maybe they’ll bring friends. Of course, Dad and Mom have invited a lot of their friends—and you’ll come, won’t you, Slade? I know it’s a drag, driving back and forth from Boston, but it would mean so much to me if you’ll come.”
“Would it?” Slade asked. He was standing just three or four feet away from her, but his look was so intense, it was as if he were touching her.
“Would it what?” Bella’s mouth went dry.
“Would it ‘mean so much’ if I came?”
“Well, of course.” She answered immediately, and she could hear the cheerful, good-hearted friendliness in her voice, the spontaneous tone she’d use with anyone. She saw the light change in Slade’s dark blue eyes; she saw his mouth turn down scornfully.
She stepped toward him, reached out, put one hand on his arm. “Slade. That was thoughtless of me. You know I never could have gotten to this place without your help. I can never thank you—”
He jerked his arm away. “I don’t need and I certainly don’t want your indebtedness.”
“That’s not what I meant!” she protested.
Slade strode around her to the door.
“Stop it, Slade!” Bella ordered. “Just stop it. Wait! Give me a chance to get my thoughts together, will you?”
Slade stopped. Turned. Looked straight at Bella. His eyes met hers. He said, “Okay. How long do you want me to wait?”
Bella’s voice trembled. “Slade, you’re a playboy. Natalie told us about you. You don’t want to settle dow
n. It’s not your style.” He didn’t respond, but continued to keep his gaze focused on her. She swallowed. “Whatever I feel for you …” Oh God, this was hard! Never before had she been the first to declare her feelings. Not with Aaron, not with her early boyfriends. As she spoke, she realized she was admitting, aloud, in words that could not be erased, the truth. “Slade, I do feel something for you. It isn’t simply lust, although of course lust is there in the mix.” She knew she was blushing fiercely. “But, Slade, I don’t know you. I can’t trust you. You’re like—like a falling star. So brilliant, but moving away while I watch.”
Slade’s voice was low. “Bella. You know me.” He seemed completely open, honest, and vulnerable. “For you, I could stop. I could stay.”
His words paralyzed her. She whispered, “Slade—”
“Oh, good! You’re here!” Shauna Webb strode through the open door, her arms full of Bubble-Wrapped porcelain. She didn’t seem to notice Slade leaning against the door, or the tears in Bella’s eyes. “God, these are heavy, but I wanted to show you as many as possible, and I didn’t want to package them up in boxes—that takes forever. Where can I put them? Oh, I’ll just set them on this table.” She leaned over the barley twist leg table and gently laid down her burdens.
Slade crossed the few steps to Bella. He touched her cheek with the palm of his hand.
“It’s okay,” he whispered. “We’ve got time, Bella.”
Bella thought she’d faint from wanting to wrap herself around him. At the same time, a neon sign flashed Danger through her mind—and she didn’t know if that made her want to run toward Slade or away.
“So I thought when I saw the abstracts,” Shauna was babbling on, “this would be the perfect place for my new sculptures. Because they really are selling in Northampton, but I need more than one venue, and this will be perfect.” Carefully, she peeled away the Bubble Wrap, exposing a rounded white something. She lifted it up and set it on top of the antique desk. “What do you think?”
Bella and Slade approached it, bent down, and peered at it. It was shaped rather like a very large …
