"But why won't you at least try?" I asked.
"Because, it's a waste. You know that story I just told you?"
"About the agent? Yeah, what about it?"
"Well, I've got a hundred just like it. Maybe not as big. But they add up."
I pulled back to get a better look at him. "So you won't even try?"
"Look, I'm not gonna die in a gutter or anything. I'm just saying, it's time to give it a rest."
"For how long?"
"I dunno. Maybe a month. Maybe forever. I'm still working on it."
As far as the endowment was concerned, he didn't even have a month. In only three weeks, Claude would be making the final selections.
Bracing myself, I said, "About the endowment–"
"Forget it."
"Just listen," I said. "Is it that you don't have any interest? Or that you don't want to get your hopes up?"
Joel looked at me for a long time, but said nothing.
I tried again. "Like, just out of curiosity, if you happened to be selected, you wouldn't turn it down or anything, would you?"
"Hell yeah, I'd turn it down."
"But why?"
"Because I don't want any special treatment."
"But I'm not the one who decides," I explained. "Claude, this art critic from Chicago, he's the one with the final say. And it's not like he's gonna give you special treatment."
When Joel said nothing, I tried a different approach. "Okay, about that whole cigar thing, let's say you won the lottery, you wouldn’t rip up the ticket, would you?"
"With my luck? I wouldn’t buy a ticket." He pulled me closer. "Don't get me wrong. I love that you care. But I don't. So just forget it, okay?"
But I didn't forget it. I had a plan, and Joel didn't need to know about it, unless it worked out the way I wanted.
I smiled against his chest. After everything he'd done for me, I owed him at least a chance, even if he wasn't willing to take it himself.
Chapter 61
On the phone, Derek sounded nearly unhinged. "Have you lost your fucking mind?"
Wincing, I held the cell phone away from my ear. I hadn't expected him to be thrilled with the decision, but even for Derek, this was a bit much.
He'd been out of town for almost a month now, and I'd come to appreciate how nice it was to not have him dropping by all the time.
As for Joel, he'd rented a cabin at the same campground where he'd been staying earlier, and we'd spent the last few weeks in utter bliss. We weren't living together, not exactly, but we'd had more sleepovers than I could count.
I loved him, and I was almost positive that he loved me, too – not that either one of us had said it.
On the phone, Derek was still ranting. "I miss one damn meeting, and you do this?" His voice rose. "What the hell were you thinking?"
I didn't bother responding. Instead, I waited, letting him rage to his heart's content. If it made him feel better, that was fine by me. I was happy, even if he wasn't.
I wasn't even worried. There was nothing that Derek could do to change the decision. Once I signed the award letters, the whole thing would be official.
Even now, Claude was finalizing the paperwork for Joel and the other five recipients. Among all of the winners, Joel was by far the best. He had the talent. He had the looks. He had a certain presence that even Claude had picked up on.
True, Joel hadn't presented his work personally, but Claude had remembered him from that whole painting fiasco, when I'd stupidly confused Joel with a stripper.
On the phone, Derek was still going strong.
As I only half-listened, I wondered what he'd say when he learned the rest of it – that I was planning to offer Joel the use of my dad's studio.
No doubt, I'd be facing another tantrum. But for once, I couldn't bring myself to care.
"Hey!" Derek barked. "Melody! You still there?"
Startled, I gave a little jump. "Oh. Are you done?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means you've been ranting for like ten minutes straight."
"I have not."
I glanced at my watch. "Uh, yeah. Actually, you have." I took a deep breath. "Look, I don't mean to be rude or anything, but can we can get this over with?"
"Why? You've got something better to do?"
"Gee, better than listening to someone yell at me? What do you think?"
In truth, I was waiting for Joel to finish oiling the hinges on the upstairs doors. I hadn't asked him to do it, but he'd insisted after some random comment I'd made about how squeaky they were.
I felt myself smile. He was always doing things like that – sweet, thoughtful things that made my life just a little bit better. And whenever I could, I tried to do the same in return.
Derek said, "You know, you're going to be a laughingstock, right?"
"Oh really? Why's that?"
"Oh come on. You gave your pretty boy an endowment."
Joel was pretty. And masculine. And the way it sounded, everything that Derek hated.
I sighed as a sad reality hit home. Sure, Derek was away now, but eventually, he'd be back. And then what? Would I be facing fistfights on the front lawn?
In a last-ditch effort to keep some peace, I said, "If you feel like listening, I'll tell you what happened."
"Go ahead." His tone grew sarcastic. "Unlike you, I've got plenty of time."
I seriously doubted that. Still, I sank down onto the nearest chair and calmly told Derek how I'd found that first painting in the storage unit, along with several others afterward.
I relayed how impressed the selection committee had been, Claude in particular, who predicted that Joel would take the art-world by storm.
When I finished, Derek gave a derisive laugh. "Wow, that was some sales job."
"It's not a sales job," I said. "I'm just telling you what happened."
"I wasn't talking about you," he said. "I was talking about him."
"What are you talking about?"
"Isn't it obvious? The guy's playing you."
"He is not."
Even now, Joel still didn't know what I'd done. And he especially didn't know that he'd been selected. He'd been out of town on the day of the big meeting, and hadn't returned until the next night.
Conscious of his crazy superstitions, I was waiting to tell him until I had the final paperwork in-hand. And then, I was going to whip it out with a flourish. "Ta-da! You won!"
In my mind, I envisioned the happy scene. Joel and I would celebrate, maybe even with champagne. And yeah, I might gloat at least a little, because it only proved that I'd been right all along.
Joel's cigar days were long-gone.
On the phone, Derek was saying, "Get real. The guy saw you coming a mile away."
"Don't be ridiculous. He won fair and square. And he would've won even without my involvement." My voice became earnest. "Seriously Derek, he's that good."
"Oh, he's 'good' alright."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means, the guy just happens to ride in on a white horse at the exact time we're awarding the endowments? And he just happens to take up with you – the person who signs the award letters?"
I rolled my eyes. "Oh, please. Did you forget? You're the one who introduced us."
"I did not."
"Yes, you did. Remember? That whole scene in the boardroom? That was your doing. So if you want to blame someone, look in the mirror."
"No, you look in the mirror, because you're the one who did this."
"Sorry, but Claude selected him, not me. I'm telling you, Joel won on his own merits."
Derek gave a snide laugh. "What, the merit in his pants?"
"Oh, that's nice." I took a deep, calming breath. "You know what? I'm done talking."
"Yeah? Well I'm not."
"Fine," I said, "then talk to yourself, because I've gotta go." And with that, I disconnected the call and turned toward the kitchen, only to see Joel standing in the open doorway, w
earing an expression that I couldn't quite make out.
Chapter 62
I stared at Joel from across the room. He still hadn't moved, and neither had I.
Had he overheard? And if so, how much? I cleared my throat. "So, you're done with the hinges, huh?"
He asked, "Is it true?"
I didn't know what to say. I stood, silently, as he strode forward and stopped within arm's reach. His gaze probed mine. "Is it?"
Stupidly, I said, "Is what true?"
"The art thing." His face was utterly unreadable. "You were just messing with Derek, right?"
This wasn't how I wanted to tell him. Stalling, I asked, "How'd you know I was talking to Derek?"
"Not hard to figure out." He studied my face. "What was that? A story to piss him off?"
I didn't know what to say. I hadn't been planning to tell Joel anything at all until the paperwork had been signed. But I didn't want to lie to him either.
Trying not to give too much away, I asked, "What if it wasn't a story? How would you feel?"
He shrugged. "I wouldn’t care either way."
It was a lie.
I could see it in his eyes – a flicker of hope, along with a wariness that would've broken my heart if the news was bad.
But it wasn't bad. It was good. Really good. And suddenly, I was determined to make him enjoy it, whether he wanted to or not.
I gave him a secret smile. "Oh well, if you don't care either way…" I turned, as if to go.
He snagged my hand and tugged me toward him. "You're messing with me."
Laughing, I fell against his chest. "Am I?"
I felt his arms close tight around me. When he spoke again, I heard the hint of a smile in his voice. "Right?"
I pulled back to gaze up at him. In mock confusion, I said, "Wait, I thought I was messing with Derek."
"Derek isn't here," he said. "I am."
Yes. He was. And I was so crazy about him that I couldn’t stop myself from smiling ear-to-ear when I finally announced, "You won!"
He shook his head. "No."
"Yes."
His mouth twitched at the corners. "You're shitting me."
I shook my head. "Nope."
"But how?" he asked.
"Oh come on," I said. "Do you really think I'd let just let it go?" Even now, I couldn’t stop smiling. "You're amazing. So I took the painting you gave me and showed it to Claude at our final meeting."
Joel gave a confused shake of his head. "Who's Claude?"
"You don't remember? He's the art critic who picks the candidates."
Joel's voice grew quiet. "But I didn't apply."
"You didn't have to," I explained. "Thanks to Derek's little prank, your name was already on the list. And, they'd already met you, so anyway…" I gave him a big, happy smile. "Congratulations!"
Joel stared in obvious disbelief. "Just like that?"
Feeling embarrassingly smug, I nodded. "Just like that."
Technically, I might've been oversimplifying things just a little. There was still the matter of the paperwork, but really, that was just a formality. Although Claude was responsible for selecting the final candidates, I was the person who signed the actual award letters. And unlike that sports agent, there was no way on Earth that I'd be backing out.
Feeling insanely happy, I spent the next few minutes going over the basic details. In the process, I also reminded Joel that the award came with a generous stipend. I finished by saying, "So anyway, you'll be getting your first check within the month."
For some reason, this made him frown.
I asked, "What is it?"
He shook his head. "I don’t get it."
"You don't get what?"
"It's a lot of money. How come you don't get any?"
I knew what he meant. The foundation paid generous stipends to six strangers a year, even as the house and everything else crumbled around me.
But things weren't that simple.
I tried to laugh. "Because I'm no artist."
But Joel wasn't laughing. "I'm serious."
Damn it. This was his moment, not mine. Hoping to ease his concerns, I said, "Okay, the truth is, the foundation was set up years ago while my dad was still alive. It was my mom's idea, actually. Anyway, that money is totally separate."
For Joel's sake, I summoned up a smile. "But that's a good thing."
He didn't smile back. "How so?"
"Well, for starters, it means the money won't get diverted into unrelated stuff." I gave a shaky laugh. "Like a new furnace."
If anything, his gaze grew more troubled. "That money, you should have some of it."
It was a sweet thought. And I loved him for it. But I hated that my own problems were interfering with what should be a happy moment.
I reached for his hand. "Just stop it. This is good news." I gave his hand a squeeze. "We should celebrate."
And so we did.
We made it a night to remember, with champagne on the patio, and mind-blowing sex afterward. That night, as I lay cradled in his arms, I considered how lucky we'd been to find each other.
He wasn't cursed. He was amazing. And it was long past time that good things flowed his way. I fell asleep with a smile on my face and love in my heart, even if I didn't quite have the guts to say it yet.
I knew why. I wanted him to say it back, or even better, say it first.
But would he?
Chapter 63
"You'll need a studio," I said. "You know, someplace to paint."
We were sitting in the breakfast nook, devouring pancakes and bacon. It was the day after I'd given him the good news, and I was still so excited, I could hardly contain myself.
"Yeah, about that," Joel said, "I've been thinking."
I leaned forward. "Me, too."
"You wanna go first?"
I nodded. "I was thinking that you might want to use the studio here. You know, that space above the guest house?"
To call it a space was a massive understatement. The studio was perfect, with an abundance of natural light and a breathtaking view of the water. I told Joel all about it and finished by saying, "But what were you thinking?"
He reached across the table and took my hand in his. "I was thinking you should keep the money."
I wasn't following. "What money?"
"The stipend or whatever you called it."
"But that's for you, to cover expenses."
"Hey, I've got plenty," he said. "Or at least, enough to get us through the year." He gave my hand a gentle squeeze. "Maybe two if we don't get too crazy."
I gazed into his eyes. Us. We. Of all his words, those two were the sweetest.
Still, I had to say, "That money's for you. Not for me."
"Alright," Joel said. "We'll call it rent."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, I'll rent the studio and pay you for it."
"But you don't have to pay me," I said.
"I want to." He gave my hand another squeeze. "Now, say yes."
I considered all of the problems this would solve. I could replace the furnace, or at least have it repaired. And then, there were all those little things that I'd been putting off – like a new winter coat and more food in the pantry.
It would all be so nice.
And yet, it wouldn't be fair. I shook my head. "No way. That's for your own expenses, just like I said."
"Yeah. Expenses." Joel grinned. "Like a studio."
We went back and forth beyond the point of ridiculousness. In the end, we simply agreed that we'd work it out one way or another. But one thing we settled for certain. Tomorrow, we'd begin moving all of his painting supplies into the studio. And then, we'd move Joel into the guest house below.
The guest house was my idea. No one was living there, anyway. Even when Aunt Gina visited, she stayed in the main house with me, not out there by herself.
The way I saw it, the arrangement would be the perfect win-win. Joel would be living right there, below his studio, so he
could paint whenever inspiration struck.
As for me, I'd have Joel within walking distance, or heck, hollering distance if the windows were open.
At last, everything was falling into place.
Later that same day, I finally heard back from Aunt Gina. We'd been playing telephone tag for the last few days, and I was eager to catch up.
Thirty seconds into the conversation, she blurted out, "Oh, my God, you had sex."
I almost dropped my phone. "What?"
"You did, didn't you?"
We'd barely said hello. How on Earth could she tell? I asked, "What makes you say that?"
"Aha!" she said. "I was right, wasn't I?"
I didn't know what to say. "Uh…"
Normally, I talked to Aunt Gina at least once a week. But the last few weeks had been so crazy that most of our correspondence had been by text. All this time, I hadn't mentioned Joel at all – partly because I didn't want to jinx anything, and partly because it didn't feel like a text-kind of conversation.
But now that things were going so well, I was dying to tell her all about him, except this wasn't quite the way I envisioned it.
"So, who is he?" She gave a little gasp. "Oh, my God. Was it the cowboy? Please say it was the cowboy."
"What cowboy? Oh wait, you mean the stripper?" I had to laugh. "No. Definitely not."
"So, who then?"
I was still laughing. "Hey, I haven't even said you were right."
"You don’t have to say it. I can tell."
"But how?"
"You're laughing. And you've got a rosy glow."
"But you can't even see me."
"Yeah, but I can hear it."
Feeling suddenly naked, I wrapped my hoodie tighter around my torso.
As if hearing the motion, Aunt Gina said, "You can run, but you can't hide."
I had to smile. I missed her like crazy. And now, she lived five hours away. "Actually," I said, "there is someone I want you to meet."
"Oh yeah? So, it's serious, huh?"
It felt serious, but I still didn't want to jinx it. So I only said, "Well, actually it's a little soon to know."
"Is he cute?"
I considered her question. Joel wasn't cute. He was something else – something infinitely better, sexy and dangerous – and yeah, insanely beautiful. Still, I said, "Yeah. He's cute."
Something Tattered (Joel Bishop Book 1) Page 24
