According to Design

by Nicole Dennis

  “Child labor,” Collin said.

  Wyatt rolled his eyes and muttered something into his coffee.

  “Why were you surprised when he asked to go to a friend’s place?” Keegan kept his tone low and his hands cupped protectively around the coffee mug. He didn’t want Collin to make off with it as part of his enthusiastic cleaning spree.

  “He never asked to go somewhere. Ever. It shocked me.”

  “I know Lucas from school. How did Collin meet him?”

  “When I took you to Pensacola, Collin hung out with Marissa and Lucas.”

  “Ahh, so they spent time outside of school together.”

  “Guess it worked,” Wyatt said as he lifted his gaze to watch Collin finish.

  Collin turned and held his hands out. “Pans and dishes done. Wiped down the counters and stove. Can I go?”

  “Yeah, have fun,” Wyatt said.

  Collin whooped while he ran to his room to shower and change.

  “Miss having all that energy,” Wyatt said. A yawn escaped at the end. He stretched his head from one shoulder to the other. He propped his chin on a raised hand and looked at Keegan. “Do you have anywhere to be today?”

  “Nowhere special. I planned on grading papers. I left my bag in the car,” Keegan said. “What about you?”

  “I have to work on the Southern Charm project. I finished the exterior signs, but need to complete the frosted glass front door windows. Then I need to figure out the design for the special window that goes right behind the front desk. I have to do something spectacular with it. It has to make a statement.”

  “Can I go with you? I’ll keep off to the side and out of the way.”

  “It’s hot and uncomfortable in the studio.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “Loud music.”

  “Wyatt,” Keegan said.

  Wyatt held up his hands. “Okay. Okay. Yes, you can come with me.”

  * * * *

  After Collin had left, they drove in Wyatt’s Soul back downtown and parked close to the gallery. When they walked in, they found Natalie and two members of her team from Blissful Cloths packing up the last of the chairs. They’d already removed the drapery cloths and pedestals.

  “Wyatt, I didn’t expect you in.” Natalie stepped away to let her team finish and moved toward them.

  “I had some encouragement to get some work done.” Wyatt glanced to Keegan. “Plus, I get some special company.”

  “Oh?” Natalie looked at Keegan with a smile. “Hello, I remember seeing you last night, but we never got introduced. I’m Natalie Brandon.”

  “Keegan Donaghue,” he said and shook her hand. “I’m amazed you remembered me out of the crowd.”

  “Oh, I’m pretty good with faces. I recognize the name. You teach my daughter’s science class. Julie Brandon.”

  “Yes, Julie’s a wonderful student. A keen eye for science.”

  “I keep telling her to do more in the field,” Natalie said. “Teenagers. They want to do everything.”

  “And nothing at the same time,” Keegan said.

  Natalie laughed and nodded.

  “I need to go to the studio. I can’t—” Wyatt paused and shook his head. “Excuse me.”

  “Hold up a moment. What’s wrong?” Keegan grasped Wyatt’s closest forearm.

  “Memories.” Wyatt’s eyes filled with tears.

  “Oh, Wyatt,” Keegan whispered.

  “I’ll leave you two alone. We’ll be done in a few minutes. The gallery will be back to the way it was,” Natalie said and backed away.

  “Thank you for everything, Natalie. It was lovely,” Wyatt mumbled. He broke free from Keegan’s gentle grip and escaped.

  Keegan wrapped his hands around the strap of his messenger bag. Something twisted his gut while Wyatt disappeared into the studio. All the progress accomplished this morning now felt like it had crashed.

  “Did I do something?” Natalie asked.

  Keegan shook his head. “No, just his grief. He’s bottled it up too long. I’ll take care of him.”

  “Go on. I’ll handle everything out here.”

  “Thanks,” Keegan said and left her in the gallery. He entered the studio but didn’t hear the normal blast of music assailing his ears. He set his messenger bag on the first table then walked farther inside.

  Instead of the ring of metal and burst of fire, Keegan found Wyatt curled over on a stool. In front of him was a potter’s wheel with a lump of wet clay spinning slow and steady. The lump remained untouched, just spinning.

  Keegan moved around to Wyatt’s side. At some point, Wyatt had changed into a clay-splattered T-shirt. He touched Wyatt’s shoulder. When he got Wyatt’s attention, he tugged over another stool then sat next to him.

  “Didn’t expect this feeling to overwhelm me. Not like this,” Wyatt said, his tone low and soft. “Patrick worked here with me for so long. Then he was gone when he no longer had the energy. Others came and went. Just something about that crazy Irishman that stuck with me.”

  Not saying anything, but letting Wyatt talk through his loss and pain, Keegan remained motionless. He listened to Wyatt talk about the first time Patrick had bounced into the studio, full of energy and talent. Wyatt spoke about mentoring the promising young artist, even introducing him to another friend, Jeremy. To his surprise, the couple had hit it off. There had been something special between Patrick and Jeremy from the very start.

  When he’d finished talking, Wyatt turned to fall against Keegan’s chest, sobbing his grief into Keegan’s shirt as one hand fisted the cloth by Keegan’s waist. Keegan embraced him, holding him close and letting him cry it out of his system. There were no words of comfort to give him.

  * * * *

  Over an hour later, Wyatt felt better, his head clear and his determination strong. He needed to concentrate on his work.

  Keegan supported all of his decisions and returned to the table closer to the door where he’d left his bag. He pulled out the papers to grade while Wyatt worked on the matching front door windows. He also had a plate-glass window sized to fit the space behind the front desk to expand on the smaller designs. Wyatt turned on the music but kept it at a reasonable decibel in deference to Keegan’s presence and so they could talk.

  At times, Keegan wandered over to check out Wyatt’s work. He pointed to one section. “Can you tell me how you did this?”

  “The etching?”

  Keegan nodded.

  A small smile tugged on Wyatt’s lips and he nodded. “How about I teach you to do it yourself?”

  “Me? Oh no, I don’t have any artistic ability. It’s hard enough to diagram a crime scene.”

  “It’s not hard, I promise. The chemicals do most of the work,” Wyatt said as he tugged over another stool for Keegan. “Pull this apron over your clothes and take a seat.”

  “But—”

  Wyatt lifted an eyebrow.

  Without an argument, Keegan sat.

  Wyatt turned to gather different supplies so they wouldn’t disturb his current project. He set another piece of glass in front of Keegan, a special type of etching paper, craft blade, pencils and markers. He added containers of bottles, brushes and tools.

  “First you need to clean the surface,” Wyatt explained while he sprayed the glass and gave Keegan a microfiber cloth to wipe it down.

  “Done. Next?”

  “This is a piece of peel and stick vinyl. We’ll create a pattern from this.” Wyatt held out a marker toward Keegan, who shook his head.

  “You draw something,” Keegan said.

  “What do you want?”

  Keegan thought about it and gave him a few ideas as a project for his science class. He watched Wyatt sketch out the design and modify it until Keegan nodded. With a sharp blade, Wyatt cut out the interior sections of the design they wanted etched on the glass. The rest would remain crystal clear.

  Together they pulled the sticky vinyl from the backing then applied it to the glass. Wyatt gave him a plasti
c square to smooth out all the edges and eliminate any air bubbles. They covered exposed areas with a masking film to protect additional areas from the etching cream.

  Wyatt held out a pair of blue latex gloves. “The cream is full of chemicals that irritate skin so we need these to protect our hands.” He tugged on the powdered gloves and Keegan did the same.

  “Oh, I know all about the benefits of gloves in my business.”

  “Since it’s been so readily available for DIY folks, I use the cream found at craft stores.” Wyatt selected a bottle and shook it. He poured it into a plastic bowl then handed him a soft-bristle brush. “Use the brush to spread the cream all over the design. Apply it in a thick coat and be careful where you place it.”

  Keegan dipped the brush in the cream then painted the design.

  “Now we let it sit for the desired effect,” Wyatt said and showed him the levels of effects on a sample piece of glass Keegan assumed Wyatt used to display the results to potential clients.

  When it came time, Wyatt gave Keegan a dish of warm water and a sponge. “Wipe the design down from top to bottom until all the cream is gone. Get all the cream in the dish.”

  After Keegan finished, Wyatt threw baking soda into the water to neutralize the chemicals and tested the pH balance with a little tool.

  They repeated the procedures on the outer edges of the design. Keegan pulled away the film and vinyl pattern and revealed the exquisite etching upon the glass. He couldn’t believe how well the glass had come out.

  “Not bad. What do you think?” Wyatt asked.

  “I love it. I’ll frame it for my classroom.”

  “Bring it to Marissa. We have a local framer who frames my work,” Wyatt said.

  They spent the rest of their quiet afternoon together in this fashion as Wyatt continued to explain other aspects of his work. After he’d finished with the front glass doors, he wrapped each one carefully with bubble wrap and a thick blanket. He set them in a box that he would take to the Charm.

  Chapter Twelve

  Thanks to Keegan’s support and care, Wyatt managed to finish the Charm’s front door windows and exterior signs. Pleased with the results, he could set up the time to install them. He went to his cramped office and dialed the Charm’s number on his cell.

  “Southern Charm, this is Elise. How may I help you?” the long-time front desk attendant, Elise Jeffries, said in a bright, friendly tone.

  “Hi, Elise, it’s Wyatt McBride.”

  “Wyatt, hello, it was such a wonderful celebration memorial. It was so moving,” Elise said.

  “Thank you. I was hoping I could speak with Samuel.”

  “Samuel isn’t available. Chandler is in his office, would you like to speak with him?”

  Wyatt wondered why Samuel wasn’t available since he’d looked good at the memorial. Of course, Dakota had hovered by his side the entire time. Why wouldn’t Samuel be working today? “Sure.”

  “Let me transfer you,” Elise said and the line clicked a couple of times.

  “Chandler Braddock,” Chandler said.

  “Hi, Chandler, this is Wyatt McBride. I hoped to speak with Samuel about the signs. I saw all of you at the memorial, including Samuel, and thought he would be working today.”

  “Wyatt, yes, I remember Samuel telling me about them. The speech was so heartfelt and it moved me.”

  “Thank you, it came from the heart and a lifetime of memories,” Wyatt said.

  “As for Samuel, Dakota is keeping him tied to their room. He didn’t want Samuel to attend the memorial, but it didn’t fly. Since they returned, he’s not letting Samuel out of his sight or their room. Samuel is getting cranky.”

  “Dakota filled me in about what happened.”

  “Oh, good. Anyway, Dakota insists on not letting Samuel go anywhere without him until the bastard is caught. Of course, Samuel argues with him. So… At the moment, he’s kind of tied up.”

  “Should I dare ask about how he’s tied up?”

  “I don’t even ask. Any time I try, Dakota growls and it isn’t pretty.”

  “That’s grumpy protective Dakota taking over. Okay, guess talking to Samuel is not on the books.”

  “For now, unless something changes. Could I help you instead?”

  “I wanted to let Samuel know the windows for the front doors and the exterior signs are ready for installation. The large window isn’t ready yet. I could swing by and install the rest. I expect Reece would want one of his crew to tag along and dig fence postholes in the right spot so I don’t mess up landscaping. I would also want Sully to help with the windows.”

  “I didn’t think they would be done so soon.”

  “They are and look great, if I say so myself,” Wyatt said with a chuckle.

  “That’s fabulous. Samuel would love to hear about this progress. I’ll find Sully and Reece and talk to them. Perhaps they can help me convince Dakota to release Samuel for a few minutes. When do you want to come over?”

  “Within the hour?”

  “Sounds good. Come first to the Charm and I’ll have everyone meet you either out front or in the main lobby. All of you can make plans from there.”

  “Will do. I’ll be there,” Wyatt said and hung up. He slid his cell phone in his pocket and left his office to find Marissa and update her on his day.

  * * * *

  Impressed by all the changes to the Charm since he’d last visited with Collin and his parents in late August, Wyatt enjoyed the smooth drive down the now-paved and lined road. This had to be his favorite part since those horrendous potholes were killers on tires and undercarriages. He parked next to the Charm in the redone driveway. All of the wild out-of-control vegetation had been removed from the property and replaced with a manicured landscape. Reece had even taken the landscaping all the way to the main road to keep a smooth inviting entrance. Still, he’d retained native Florida plants to keep with the surroundings and protect the land and wildlife. This time there was a winding path leading away from the Charm and power tools and voices drifted back from the area. Wyatt wondered what was happening back there.

  Instead of investigating further, he got out to walk around to lift the box from the back seat. With care, he carried it to the porch. He tapped a free finger against the plain glass, knowing his etched work would rest there, his work forever entwined with a vital part of their small community. As he opened the door, he read the taped sign—

  Due to safety reasons, enter Delights by the back porch.

  According to the chef’s whims, a limited menu is available.

  A grand reopening scheduled for December.

  Please see the website for further details.

  A little in shock at all the changes, Wyatt stopped to take everything in. They’d completely redesigned and opened the front entrance to be more inviting for guests to both the Charm and the restaurant, Southern Delights. A glance to the side showed him the hostess station in front of the double doors with the frosted etched glass inserts he’d created. Behind the U-shaped counter, the opening in the wall waited for his window project. He realized an office was on the other side of the wall. He walked over then carefully placed the large flat box on the desk.

  “Damn it all, Dakota, I’m perfectly capable of getting up and moving around. I made it through the memorial and I can get through today,” someone said in a raised tone along with multiple steps on the stairs.

  “You weren’t capable back in the clinic when I was falling apart at hearing how you couldn’t fucking breathe!” Dakota snapped back.

  “Dakota, please, I can’t stay locked in a room. I won’t give the bastard that kind of power over me. Wyatt is on his way with the signs I ordered. I’m damn determined to see this project to the finish,” Samuel said.

  “You shouldn’t overdo anything. You need to rest.”

  “Dakota, I swear. If you don’t back off, I’m gonna kick your ass. You’re also sleeping in another room because I’m tired of hearing whining and protesting. No mor
e!”

  Someone snickered next to Wyatt and yanked his attention away from the interesting argument. He turned to see Sully and Reece moving through the hallway that wound back toward the kitchen and back offices. Reece shook his head as Sully continued to snicker.

  Chandler nudged Sully’s side with his elbow to stop him. “Hello, Wyatt.”

  “Good to see you again, Chandler.” Wyatt waved to the adorable accountant since he knew Chandler didn’t welcome another’s touch, other than Sully’s. He smiled and shook hands with Sully and Reece.

  “Good to see you, Wyatt. Beautiful memorial. Patrick would have loved it,” Reece said.

  “He wanted raucous Irish tunes, but I think Cal did a much better job with his voice and an acoustic guitar.”

  “As always, it’s amazing to hear him play and sing. Wish he could have stayed longer, but he had to get back to California and work,” Reece said.

  “I know. I wanted to hang out with him a little longer. Next time,” Wyatt said.

  “Don’t know if Patrick wanted only coffee and tea at his memorial,” Sully said.

  “Hell no, he would have preferred Guinness, Bailey’s, and Jameson Whiskey available for everyone,” Wyatt said. “Typical Irishman, but I believe he enjoyed what he saw.” He pointed toward the staircase. “How long has that argument lasted?”

  “Since the day Samuel came home from the clinic and Dakota frog-marched him upstairs to their room,” Sully said. “It got a little worse after the memorial and Samuel returned almost falling asleep on his feet.”

  “He’s wanted to kick Dakota’s ass about, what—” Reece turned to Sully and asked, “six times now?”

  “More like a dozen.” Sully glanced at the end of the staircase. “Though the kicking him out of bed is a new one.”

  “You’re right, that is new. Guess Dakota’s hitting the wrong buttons.”

  “Or Samuel is getting strong and Dakota doesn’t want to let him go.”

  “True.” Reece shrugged and smiled when the arguing couple appeared around the opposite side where the staircase rose through the middle of the old Southern style B&B. “Hey there, Samuel, Dakota finally let you out to play with us?”