“I’m okay. Although my mom’s sick.”
Nicole stopped at the door, waiting for them to finish their conversation.
“I’m sorry,” he told her. “Is it serious?”
“Unfortunately. It’s cancer again.”
“Oh, Amy.” Ryan sounded truly sympathetic. “I’m so sorry.”
She made a sniffling noise. “Yeah, it’s been pretty hard.”
“Have you been able to spend enough time with her?”
“Well, as you know, she’s in Charlotte, and that’s a four-hour drive one way. I go when I can. But I have to work too. A girl’s got to make a living.”
“I’m sure Nicole will be happy to cover for you—”
“Maybe, but she’s still so inexperienced. I’m not sure I can leave her here on her own too much. Who knows what might happen?”
Nicole bristled at this implication, suddenly regretting that she was lurking in the doorway. She loudly cleared her throat, coming out into the gallery. “Oh, hello, Ryan.” She tried to sound surprised. “What are you doing here?”
“I was in the neighborhood,” he said. “Thought you might want to get a bite of lunch with me.”
Amyra’s smile faded.
“That would be nice,” Nicole said. “I was just getting ready to—”
“I’m taking the first lunch break today,” Amyra said. “I thought you knew that.”
“But my schedule said—”
“Sorry, I thought I told you I changed that. I have an appointment at one.” She went to the counter and removed her purse from beneath. “I really have to go now. Later.”
Just like that, she was gone. Nicole smiled apologetically at Ryan. “Sorry. Looks like I’ll have to pass on lunch.”
“Tomorrow then?” he asked.
“Guess that depends on Amyra.”
“Maybe you can find out when you’re scheduled and give me a call.”
“I can try.” Nicole sighed. “But she can be, well, a little unpredictable. At least with me.”
“She’s probably got a lot on her mind these days,” he said gently.
“Maybe so.” Nicole nodded, remembering what Amyra had just said about her mother. For some reason she didn’t fully believe Amyra, but then she felt guilty. Who would lie about their mother having cancer?
“I only have an hour,” Ryan told her. “And a meeting at one thirty. So I better go.”
“Thanks for stopping by.” As she walked him through the gallery, she quickly relayed the good news from the bank.
“Glad to hear it.” He nodded. “I was a little worried.”
“Me too.”
He paused by the front door. “Oh yeah, I meant to tell you that I looked up the guy online. For some reason the name Finley Stratton stuck in my mind. Turns out he plays pro soccer.”
“So soccer players make a lot of money?”
He shrugged. “I guess so.”
“Maybe the girl is a professional athlete too,” she mused. She waved goodbye and went back inside. It was sweet that Ryan had stopped by to ask her to lunch. Was it just a friendly gesture? If it was something more . . . how did she feel about that?
She smiled as she cleaned the glass on top of the display case. The truth was she felt pretty good about it. The more she got to know Ryan Graham, the more she found herself falling for him. As she knelt down to polish the sides of the glass cabinet, she remembered how Alex had mentioned someone named Cassidy, insinuating that this person might be someone special to Ryan. Who was Cassidy? And why did Nicole care so much?
11
As Nicole put the glass cleaner away, she thought about the display case she’d just cleaned and went back to give it a second look. Upon closer inspection, she realized that the scarf and necklace Amyra had borrowed last weekend were still missing. Nicole bit her lip, wondering how best to handle this. What would Vivian do? She doubted this would happen if Vivian were here. Perhaps Amyra was just playing with Nicole, testing her? Before she could come to a conclusion, the front bell rang.
“Hello?” a female voice called out.
Nicole went to the front of the gallery to see that Camille Stratton had entered. Hopefully she wasn’t here to return the painting. Perhaps they’d gotten it home and decided it really didn’t work after all. Or they realized that they’d blown their budget and couldn’t afford to eat now.
“Hello,” Nicole said. “How are you doing, Camille?”
“You remember my name?” Camille’s face broke into a grin. “That’s so cool. Usually everyone remembers Fin’s name, but not mine.”
“Camille is such a pretty name,” Nicole said. “It has a Southern sound to it.”
“You’re not from the South, are you?” Camille said.
Nicole explained she was from Seattle, then reintroduced herself, handing Camille one of the new business cards. “I hope you’re enjoying your Collin Turner painting. It’s such a great piece.”
Camille’s eyes lit up. “Oh yes, it was even more perfect than I’d imagined it would be. I absolutely love it.”
Relief washed over Nicole. “Oh, good.” She chuckled. “I was worried that you wanted to return it.”
“Return it?” Camille looked horrified. “Why?”
Nicole shrugged. “Well, it was rather expensive, and you and Fin . . . well, you’re sort of young. You might’ve changed your mind.”
Camille laughed. “No way. That painting is definitely a keeper.”
“I’m so glad.” Nicole laughed too. “And I didn’t mean to insult you about your age.”
“That’s okay. We get that a lot. I’m only twenty-three, and most people think I should be buried in college debt, but . . . well, my family has been generous with me. Fin is only six months older than me, but he’s done pretty well with soccer. I guess we’re just lucky. Or blessed.”
Nicole had to agree with that. “The truth is some young people don’t appreciate good art. But I think you’ve got great taste. You chose one of the most beautiful paintings in the gallery, at least in my opinion.”
“Thank you.” Camille beamed at her. “But I think I just got lucky with that one. Anyway, that’s why I’m back today.”
Nicole tipped her head to one side. “You want another painting?”
Camille explained that she had inherited her house on Tybee Island. “About a year ago,” she said as they strolled around the gallery. “It was my grandparents’ home, built in the 1960s, so it’s got this really cool midcentury vibe to it. But my grandma had it redecorated in the 1990s, and as much as I loved my grandma, it was all wrong. Pink and green and flowers, you know?”
Nicole nodded. “My parents’ house was built circa 1990. I can imagine it perfectly.”
“I’d been bringing the house back to its roots. It keeps me occupied while Fin is on the road with soccer. I mean, sometimes I go with him, but redoing this house has been my big project. Fin thought it was better than having a baby. We’re too young for that. Anyway, when the house was finished, I knew I needed some art to put on the walls. My grandparents always had original art. I actually sold most of it on eBay, except for a couple of pieces that I love. My plan was to invest my eBay money on art that fits the original house. But I don’t mean modern art. The truth is I don’t really like abstracts and stuff like that. I think they’d look stark in my house. But that Collin Turner painting was perfection.” She paused to catch her breath. “So I need a few more pieces and I was hoping you could help me.” She looked down at the business card. “I didn’t realize you were the manager, but I had a feeling you were just the right person to help.”
Nicole smiled. “I’d love to help you, Camille. What did you have in mind?”
“For starters, I hoped you could come out to the house with me. Actually, my friend Alice suggested this. She and her husband spent a couple days with us. By the way, they totally loved the new seascape. Alice said I should invite you to come see the house and help me pick out a few more pieces. I have to keep it wi
thin my budget, though.”
“Of course.”
“So you’ll do it?”
“Absolutely.” Nicole nodded. “I think it’s a fabulous idea. Plus I’d love to see your home. I adore midcentury houses.”
“Great! How soon can you come?”
“Today if you like.”
“Seriously?”
“Sure.” Nicole glanced at the clock. “The assistant manager should be back from her lunch in about fifteen minutes.”
“Maybe we can look around a little more,” Camille suggested.
“Absolutely.” Nicole was a little surprised at Camille’s enthusiasm for this gallery since a lot of the art had more of an old-world feel to it—not something you’d expect to find in a midcentury home. But there were a number of artists and pieces that would work beautifully. Nicole started to point them out. “It’s hard to say if they’d fit or not.” She pointed at a Collin Turner painting of a sailboat. “But I can imagine this one looking nice in a midcentury house.”
“Me too.” Camille smiled. “Can we take it with us and try it?”
“I don’t see why not.” Nicole lifted it off the wall. “I’ll put some bubble wrap around it.” They picked out a couple more pieces, and Nicole was just wrapping them up when Amyra came into the back room.
“What are you doing with those?” Amyra demanded.
“Getting ready to take them to a client’s house,” Nicole said softly, tipping her head toward the door to the gallery. “She’s waiting for me now.”
Amyra frowned. “You sold those?”
“They’re not sold. We’re just going to try them in her house.”
“What client?” Amyra tossed her purse onto the worktable, then lowered her voice. “I’ll bet it’s one of my clients. Linda Sampson was looking at the sailboat painting just last week. You can’t steal my sales, Nicole.”
“It’s not Linda Sampson,” Nicole said in a hushed voice.
“I’m going to go see.” Amyra marched toward the door. Nicole continued wrapping the last painting, then went out to join them. Hopefully Amyra wouldn’t say anything rude to Camille. To her relief, Amyra was quite congenial. Almost too congenial.
“Well, I’m ready to go,” Nicole announced.
“Heading off on your lunch break?” Amyra asked.
“No, not yet. First I’m going with Camille to try some paintings in her house.” Nicole turned to Camille. “I’ll just load up the art and follow you. Okay?”
“Great.” Camille frowned. “But what about your lunch break?”
“No problem.” Nicole waved a hand. “I’ve got an apple that I’ll munch on in the car, and I’ll get lunch later.”
“I’ve got some really good chicken salad at the house,” Camille offered.
“Sounds good.” Nicole turned to Amyra. “See you later.”
Without further ado, she and Camille were on their way. Nicole tried not to feel smug as she followed Camille’s little hybrid car. She was all too familiar with the “pride comes before the fall” proverb. She didn’t want to wind up flat on her face. Instead, she reminded herself that Camille might not like any of these pieces in her house. That was just fine. It would be fun to see the house anyway. And it was fun getting to know Camille. But having a break from Amyra was the best part of all. Nicole had not been looking forward to spending the whole afternoon with her co-worker.
The one consolation was that Amyra had scheduled Nicole’s day to end at five o’clock. That was because more sales occurred in the evening hours. Vivian had mentioned this, and her notes suggested that she and Amyra should split those hours between them. But since Amyra had created the schedule, Nicole was happy to abide by it.
After a nice drive of about half an hour, they reached Tybee Island. They drove past a number of older, more traditional two- and three-story homes until Camille finally turned into a driveway of a one-story contemporary-style home that backed up to the beach.
“It’s beautiful out here,” Nicole said as Camille came over to help her carry in the paintings.
“I love it too.” Camille led the way up to the house. “I’ve always felt at home here, but I never dreamed my grandparents would really leave it to me.” She set down a painting to unlock the front door. “Fin went fishing today, so we have the house to ourselves.”
Nicole went inside to see maple hardwood floors and a few pieces of contemporary furnishings, but what really caught her eye was the solid wall of windows overlooking the ocean. “Oh, Camille,” she said. “This is beautiful.”
Camille grinned. “Yeah, the view is killer.” She set the painting on a table. “Go ahead and look around. I’ll round us up some lunch.”
“Oh, don’t go to any trouble—”
“No trouble. I have a bunch of chicken salad that needs to get eaten,” Camille assured her. “And I’m hungry too.”
“I’ll get these paintings out,” Nicole said, peeling off the bubble wrap. Walking around, she tried the paintings in various spots and felt encouraged that they looked really great in this house. “Your house is perfect for displaying art,” she announced as Camille set two plates out on the sleek breakfast bar.
“Really? How so?”
“The lines in here are so clean and open. The finishes are so fresh. And the natural light is fabulous. I can see why you’re eager to get more pieces.”
“Exactly.” Camille chuckled. “Although I couldn’t have put it quite like that.”
“But you don’t want too many pieces,” Nicole warned her. “The last thing you want is for the house to feel cluttered.”
“Yes, I was thinking that too.” Camille smiled as she sat down. “I’m glad you said it. That just convinces me that you’re the perfect person to help me. You won’t try to sell me pieces I don’t need.”
“And we’ll be careful to stay within your budget,” Nicole promised as she picked up her fork. “This looks yummy.”
After lunch, Camille gave Nicole the full tour of the house. Nicole used her phone to take photos and made some notes regarding what size and type of art might be best in certain spots. The truth was this was all new to her, but she felt like she was getting the hang of it. And she and Camille seemed to have a copacetic understanding.
“I feel like we’re old friends,” Nicole told Camille when they were finally finished. “Like we’ve known each other for years.”
“I do too!” Camille said. “I felt like that when we came in your gallery the other day. Like you took me seriously. We’d been in a couple other galleries, and the people there either ignored us completely or treated us like children. You were the first one to give us some respect.”
Nicole was thankful she’d done that. But honestly, why wouldn’t she treat anyone who walked into the gallery with respect? Wasn’t that what Vivian would do?
By the time they were finished with the tour, it was four o’clock and Nicole was starting to wrap up the paintings they’d brought.
“Oh, I want to keep those,” Camille said. “You don’t need to wrap them up.”
Nicole stopped. “Oh . . . okay.” She stepped away, wondering what Amyra would say if she returned to the gallery minus the paintings and any payment for them. This was awkward.
“Can I just give you my debit card information?” Camille asked. “And you can write it up back at the gallery?”
Nicole considered this. “I think that would be just fine.”
“Or, if you want, I can write you a check.”
Nicole wondered which payment would be less troublesome to Amyra. “It’s probably easier to run your debit card,” she said. “If that’s how you want to handle it.”
“Great.” Camille went for her purse. “I want to hang these before Fin gets home. He’s going to be so surprised. I love the places you suggested for them to go.” She got her debit card, and as Nicole wrote down the numbers and information, Camille wrote down the amounts for each of the paintings. “This puts a dent on my art budget,” she admitted.
“But it’s so worth it.”
“Maybe you should try living with these for a while,” Nicole suggested. “Give yourself some time to make sure you really want more.”
“Okay.” Camille nodded. “But I would like to finish things up in this house before the Fourth of July. We’re having a big party that weekend, and I want it to look perfect in here.”
Nicole glanced around the house. “I’m sure it will.”
“Thanks for your help,” Camille said as she walked Nicole toward the door.
“You’ve got my business card,” Nicole reminded her. “Just give me a call when you’re ready for more art.” She paused. “I probably shouldn’t say this, but if you like, I’d be happy to go with you to some of the other galleries too. I mean, in case we don’t have just the right pieces for your house.”
Camille blinked. “You’d do that for me?”
“Why not?” Nicole smiled. “I want your house to look perfect too.”
“That is so cool.” Camille grinned. “I knew I liked you from the minute I met you. Thanks, Nicole!”
Nicole thanked her as well. As she was driving back to town, she hoped she hadn’t made a mistake offering to go with Camille to other galleries. But somehow she didn’t think Vivian would mind. Especially considering that within just a few days, Camille had purchased four original pieces. Four! Who could question that? Well, except for Amyra. Nicole braced herself for Amyra’s reaction. Whether it would be prompted by jealousy or concern that Nicole had just “given away” three valuable paintings, she felt certain that it would not be good.
12
Even without Nicole admitting she’d left three paintings behind, Amyra was in a snit. Nicole was barely in the door when Amyra called her irresponsible, acting as if she had wasted an entire afternoon on Tybee Island. As if she’d been out sunbathing on one of those gorgeous sandy beaches.
“I’m sorry if you felt abandoned,” Nicole calmly said as she went to the counter to write up Camille’s purchases. “I assumed you were fine on your own, Amyra. I had no problems being here by myself on Sunday and Monday.”
“Well, I was not fine,” Amyra snapped. “At one point I had several customers in the gallery, and I could barely see to them.”
Under a Summer Sky--A Savannah Romance Page 10
