“Are you blind?” a boy’s voice chimed in.
“Will,” Natalie scolded.
“What? It’s a reasonable question. Why would she want to come to the bookstore when she can’t read?”
Sosie laughed. Months ago, that would have destroyed her, but now that she’d settled into her new life, it didn’t faze her.
“I can read. Only I do it with my fingers.” She raised her hand and moved her fingers. “I was halfway through the first Harry Potter book when I came here and forgot it at home.”
“I’ll be right back,” Jake said.
“You like Harry Potter?” Will asked.
She felt the bench dip beside her, and a body nudged her over.
“I do. Wouldn’t you love to be a wizard?”
“Sure,” came the young boy’s voice from beside her. “Only I wouldn’t want to live in a closet under the stairs. I lived in my sister’s cardboard box for a while, and I imagine it’s a lot like that.”
Sosie raised her brows. “A cardboard box?”
“It was a tiny house, not a box,” Natalie corrected.
“Don’t let her fool you. It was a box, but I moved here and saved her.”
Baxter’s hand still sat below hers from across the table. “There seems to be a lot of saving going on around here,” she said.
The bell above the door rang again, and a breeze followed the person to their table. “This just came in.” A thunk sounded on the table. “Sorry it took a little longer, but it was harder to get than I thought,” Jake said.
Baxter’s hand pulled out from under hers. “Thanks so much.”
“Oh my gosh, is that Har—”
“Let’s go, young man,” Jake said. “I’m starving.”
“But that’s Har—”
“Now, Will. Let’s leave them be,” Natalie said.
They were gone a few seconds when the smell of waffles passed before her. “Waffle to your left and chicken to your right,” Riley said when she set the plates down.
“Is that Will’s?” The air moved next to Sosie, and there was a thud as something hit the table.
“No,” Baxter said. “That’s Sosie’s.”
She was thoroughly confused. “What’s mine?”
“I’ll be back,” Riley said and dashed away, leaving behind her scent of tropical fruit.
Baxter slid something across the table until he touched her fingertips. “I thought you might miss reading. I ordered you the first Harry Potter book in braille so you could finish it.”
She gripped the edges of the book and pulled it to her chest. “You got me a book?”
He laughed. “Not just any book. It’s Harry Potter.”
“When did you order this?”
“The day Katie told me you left it behind.”
She set the book down and slid from the booth to join him on his side. “And you claim to not be nurturing.” She cupped his cheeks and pulled him in for a chaste kiss. Later, she’d show him how grateful she really was.
“I tell ya, there’s something in this mountain air that hits the heart,” Riley said. “I look at you two and see how you both bloom in each other’s presence.” She tapped Sosie’s shoulder. “Don’t break his heart, or I’ll try to burn down your studio again.” She let out a laugh that filled the restaurant.
“Go for it. By the end of the month, it’s not mine, anyway. I’ve got a new career. Turns out, I’m great at laying tile.”
“I wouldn’t say great,”—Baxter teased,—“but you’re a work in progress,” He slid over, so she had more room next to him. The scrape of her plate sounded against the Formica when he moved it in front of her. “Waffle to your right and chicken to your left.”
She reached to her left to touch him. “I’d never call you a chicken,” she joked. “You were brave enough to take me on.”
Chapter Sixteen
“You’ve got mail.” Baxter walked into the kitchen and kissed Sosie on the cheek while she stirred the pasta sauce. It still made him nervous each time she cooked, but he was getting used to it after a week of home-cooked meals. Besides, she was a good cook, and her pasta was his favorite.
“Who’s it from?”
He glanced at the corner of the envelope. “I think it’s your agent. Theresa Branton, right? This is from the Branton Agency.”
“Don’t open it. It will most likely ruin our dinner.”
“What if it’s a check?”
She laughed. “I haven’t received a check in a long time. You have to sell something to get a check.” She pulled a strand of spaghetti from the pot and held it on a fork. “Come taste this and tell me if it’s ready.”
He slurped the noodle into his mouth and chewed. “It’s perfect, just like you.” He took two plates from the cupboard and set the table.
It hadn’t taken much time to adjust to each other. They seemed to move like a well-oiled engine.
She drained the pasta while he pulled the garlic bread from the oven. She dished up the meal, and he got the parmesan cheese. They sat down to eat.
“You can’t ignore it.”
“Yes, I can. Whatever is in there won’t be pleasant.”
“Rip it off like a Band-Aid.”
She twirled the spaghetti onto her fork. “Fine, read it to me.”
He ran his knife under the envelope flap to open it and pulled out a single sheet of paper. He read through the legalese of it.
“You’re right, it’s not pleasant.”
“What? What does it say?”
“She’s suing you for breach of contract unless you produce ten pieces of original art by next week.”
She slammed her fists on the table, jarring their dinner plates and sending a piece of garlic bread into the air. “I told you it wasn’t good.”
“Come on, Sosie, what can she sue you for? Even you said you have nothing.” He couldn’t imagine what Theresa had to gain from the threat.
“It’s not what she’ll take from me that matters; it's what she’ll take from my mother. The house in Tuscany is in my name. If she sues me, my mother will lose her home.”
He took a breath to calm his frustration. When was someone going to look after Sosie’s best interests? As soon as he considered it, he realized that was his job now.
“Your mother is an adult, she’ll be fine.”
She pushed her plate away. “No, she won’t be fine. She’s a shell of a woman since my father left, and the house is all she’s got.”
“Not true, she’s got Gage and you.”
She palmed her eyes and rubbed. “What good is a blind artist and an alcoholic son going to do her?”
He might have a solution to her problem. “Hear me out. The other day we were talking about your art, right? You mentioned that Theresa needed ten Sosie Grant originals.”
“I don’t have ten canvases to give her.”
“But you do. You have at least that many in the studio.”
She shook her head. “None of which are finished.”
“What if you finished them?”
She let out a growl that could send a guard dog into hiding. “I know you’re a smart man, but you’re not thinking. I tried to finish them, and it was a disaster.”
“You’re wrong. The painting in my living room at the new house is amazing. It’s not the old Sosie Grant art, it’s different, and that might be okay. This is new, and it’s raw and authentic and fabulous. What if you took the collection—”
“Geez, Baxter, it’s not a collection. It’s a bunch of shit that I should toss away.”
“Just give me a chance to explain,” he pleaded. He knew if he could get her to listen to reason, then she might have a solution. “You’re blind.”
“Brilliant observation, now what?”
Frustration pricked at his skin. “You don’t have to be mean; I was only trying to help.”
Her shoulders rolled forward, and resignation settled in her downcast eyes. “I’m sorry. What’s your idea?”
He p
ushed her plate toward her. “You eat while I talk.”
She picked up her fork and began twisting spaghetti again. “Wow me with your plan.”
He smiled. “I will. We both know that you’re afraid of the dark, but your fans don’t. I was thinking about the canvases at the studio. They are all in some stage of completion. What if we lined them up from the least finished to the most finished? On the unpainted area ...” This is what he’d need to sell her. “Make it black and call the collection Out of the Darkness.”
“But I’m still in the dark.”
“Are you?” He leaned back in the chair. “Seems to me you’ve found some light in your life. Whether that’s me or the town or reading or laying tile, you’ve walked through the dark and have found a way to the other side.”
She gnawed on her lower lip, and when it popped from between her teeth, she scowled. “That’s not what people expect from me. It could ruin my reputation as an artist, and that’s all I have.”
He closed his eyes and prayed for strength. “That’s all you have? Really, Sosie?” He slid his chair out and stood. “Who am I to you? What does what we’ve been building together mean to you?”
“You’re everything,” she whispered.
“No, I’m not, and I don’t expect to be everything, but I want to be something. Something more than a soft place to land for a few weeks. Make up your mind. On one breath, you say you need to save your mother’s house, and on the other, you’re worried about your reputation. You’re a blind has-been artist that needs to live in the present and not the past. I thought I was part of that present.” Once the words were out, he wanted to snatch them back but couldn’t.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not a has-been!” she yelled. “My art still sells.”
“What art, Sosie? There will never be another painting if you don’t risk something. You do what you want, but I’m done trying to help.” He turned and walked away.
“Where are you going?”
“Out.” He marched out the door and slammed it behind him. Once he hit the cool night air, he walked down a few stores and entered Bishop’s Brewhouse from the back door.
Loud music and awful voices assaulted him. “Karaoke night. Great.” He found an empty seat at the bar next to Doc, who sipped his nightly mug of beer. In front of him was a napkin with tic-tac-toe squares drawn on it.
“Did you win or lose?”
“Tonight, I’m buying my own beer.”
Cannon set a frosty mug of Budweiser in front of Baxter and left to fill empty pitchers.
“Must be a losing kind of day.”
Doc turned and lifted a bushy white brow. “Trouble in paradise?”
“This mess with Sosie is all your fault, Doc.”
“Now listen here, son, I asked you to give her a bed, but I didn’t mean yours.”
“You’re right. I’m just in over my head, and I don’t know what to do. I can’t make her see reason.”
“She’s blind son, it will take her a while to see anything. I imagine what she can’t see with her eyes, she sees with her heart. Sosie seems like a nice young lady, and it will take her time to accept her new way of life.”
“I get that, but she was doing great, and then something happened today, and it all turned to shit.”
Doc took another drink and licked the foam from his mustache. “What happened?”
He wasn’t sure if he should tell Sosie’s story, but he needed help, and in a roundabout way, it was his story too.
“Her agent will sue her for breach of contract if she doesn’t send ten completed canvases to Denver within the week.”
Doc rubbed at the scruffy white hair on his chin. “Seems harsh to me, but business is business, and so it’s within her right to sue. If Sosie can’t produce what she promised, then she is in breach of contract.”
“But she’s blind. Shouldn’t that account for something?”
“It should, but it won’t. If she didn’t have a clause in the contract to void the deal, should she become unable to create the work, then she needs to produce the art or pay to settle the claim.”
He told Doc about his idea for a new Sosie Grant collection. Doc sipped his beer and listened. “I’d say you’ve come up with a good plan. Something is better than nothing.”
“You’d think, but she’s not on board.” He tipped back his mug and drank deeply, then set the glass on the wooden bar with a bang and pulled out cash to pay for it. “I should go check on her.”
“Now that’s where you’re wrong. Give her some time to think about what she’s up against. Imagine being her. She probably feels like one of those milk jugs at the carnival. You know the ones that everyone lobs balls at. She’s been dodging balls for months. Might not be bad if one or two hit her. Could knock some sense into the girl.”
Doc was right, Sosie needed to attack this problem on her own. If everyone kept saving her, then she’d never be able to save herself.
“My biggest fear is letting her down. Don’t you think abandoning her when she needs me the most is the same as failing to take care of her?” He slid his empty mug forward and nodded to Cannon to fill it up.
Doc shook his head and sighed. “Seems to me you’re making her problem your problem.” He turned to look over his shoulder. “When you and I sat at that table over yonder, you told me you couldn’t let her stay with you because you weren’t good at taking care of people. Son,” Doc patted him on the back. “Part of caring for someone is knowing when to let them make their own choices. Seems to me like you gave her a good idea. Whether she runs with it or ignores it, is her decision and not your problem.”
Cannon set the new beer in front of him. “You look like hell. Since I don’t see Sosie sitting next to you, I imagine your hell has blonde hair and blue eyes.”
“And she’s as stubborn as an angry goat,” Baxter added.
“Welcome to the women of Aspen Cove. You can’t live with them, and you can’t live without them.”
Doc tossed a five on the table. “My work here is finished. Lovey is making pot roast tonight, and we’re watching Golden Girls.”
As soon as Doc was out of earshot, Cannon said, “Just shoot me if my greatest thrill becomes pot roast and Betty White.”
“How is Sage?” Envy filled the lower half of Baxter’s heart. Most of his friends were married with children, or in Cannon’s case, with a child on the way. “Is she feeling well?”
“Baby is growing. She’s six months along, and every night when I lay my hand on her stomach, I can hardly believe my kid is simmering inside of her.”
“You know what it is?”
He shook his head. “Nope, it’s not like we’d send it back either way. There are few surprises in life these days, but the sex of our baby will be one.”
Life surprised Baxter all the time. Especially since Sosie arrived. “I’m happy for you, man. I really am.”
“What about you? I’m assuming you had a disagreement with Sosie, and that’s why you’re here alone.”
He thought about what Doc said. “I’m giving her time to figure some stuff out.”
“That’s man talk for it’s not safe to go home.”
Baxter chuckled. “I see you have some experience in these matters.”
Cannon rubbed the side of his head. “My Sage has perfect aim, whether it’s a shoe, a glass, or one of those pinecone candles we once had on the table. Had being the important word. But regardless, making up is the best part of the fight. It’s how the little Bishop got in her belly.”
Baxter thought about Sosie and what it would be like to have a child with her. There would be challenges for sure, but nothing was insurmountable. I’d fail both of them. His mind went back to his dead father and his scarred sister.
“I’m not sure I’m cut out to be a father. What if the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree?”
“If that was the case, Bowie and I should have stayed single and kept our pecker in our pants. Don’t forget
that our father was the town drunk. I always thought I’d failed him, when in reality, he failed himself, and in doing so, failed us.”
That hit Baxter in his already bruised heart. He’d been blaming himself all these years for his failures, and not once did he see it as his father’s, but the fact of the matter is, how was a kid supposed to raise his parent?
“He got his shit straight, though, right?”
“He did, and that’s because Sage and Katie thought he was worth saving and made him believe it too. Your aunt helped a lot in his recovery. She filled his hollow heart with love. I’m telling you, man, a good woman can make all the difference in your life.”
Cannon rushed off to fill pitchers and take payments while Baxter ruminated on all the mentoring he’d received that night. Once he finished his second beer, he paid his bill and headed home.
He climbed the stairs, wondering what he would find. Would she be up? Asleep? In his bed? In hers?
“Sosie,” he called from the front door. “I’m back, and I’m sorry.”
Only silence and the hum of the refrigerator compressor greeted him. He went to the kitchen and found it spotless. Garlic scenting the air was the only clue that they had served dinner that night. He moved down the hallway and peeked into her room, thinking she would have climbed into her bed if she was still angry, but it was empty. He passed by the bathroom and expected to find her in his bed, but when he flipped the switch on, only an empty bed and a note greeted him.
Baxter,
You were right.
Sosie
Right about what?
Chapter Seventeen
The tip-tap of her cane on the sidewalk kept her focused on the task at hand. She needed to get the canvases painted. One way or another, she would deliver something, but perspective was always a challenge. She didn’t live like anyone else and didn’t think like anyone else. Her brain was wired differently, or maybe that was her excuse.
A cool breeze blew around her, crickets in the distance sang their night song. Night. It was night, which meant it was dark. She tuned into the sounds around her. There was a laugh nearby, and the lap of water rushed the shore of the lake, the rustling of something in the bushes to her left.
One Hundred Glances (An Aspen Cove Small Town Romance Book 14) Page 12
