by Susan Hatler
“Are you nervous?” Jackson asked.
I bit my bottom lip, then remembered that my lipstick had a habit of ending up on my teeth when I did that, so I stopped. “Um, do I look nervous?”
He scrutinized my face. “A little.”
“Then I look less nervous than I feel. Were you able to see anyone’s paintings?”
“The paintings and frames are covered.” He gestured toward a makeshift stage set up in the corner of the room.
My gaze flew to the covered, framed canvases. Small plaques with the contestants’ names spelled out in gold curlicues sat at the side of every canvas display on each individual easel.
I was worried that the easels, not meant for painting but just showcasing the works, might prove to be too flimsy considering the weight of the frames. “You think the easels might break? They look flimsy and the frames are heavy.”
“I’m sure they’re fine.” He gave my hand a reassuring squeeze, which unfortunately did nothing to comfort me. “I’ll get us something to drink.”
I nodded. Jackson gave me a hug and then right over his shoulder I spotted Brian standing next to Chelsea. My heart leapt as I lifted a hand off Jackson’s broad back and waved at Brian. His jaw tightened and he looked away. Huh. He must be nervous, too. Jackson broke off the hug and headed for the bar set up on one side of the vast room.
I stepped toward Brian, my gaze fastened on his. He looked dashing in another suit and a green tie that accentuated his emerald-green eyes. Just as I got close enough to speak to him, Chelsea grabbed his hand and turned him in a different direction. I paused in my tracks, feeling more than a little irritated.
I wanted to talk to Brian, but not with Chelsea nearby. Her red-polished fingernails rested on his arm in a possessive grip as she steered him away. She wore a red silk dress that looked stunning with her raven hair, and her make-up had been applied to perfection. She clearly hadn’t had to wait, after closing time, on a dress shop customer.
I let out a huge sigh and headed for a table laden with hors d’oeuvres. I hadn’t had time to eat either and I was starving. At the table, I ran into a few other people I knew and chatted for a bit. Then one of the women standing there said, “Oh, isn’t that Brian Watts? He’s always been such a kind man. I remember how good he was to his grandmother in her last years.”
I turned my head to see where the woman and her friend were looking and my mouth curved upward. Brian stood next to the stage, talking to a group of young girls—probably the high school artists that were mentioned in the flyer—who were obviously thrilled to be talking to the woodworker (aka: a hot older guy).
Brian gestured to the easel that held Chelsea’s painting and his frame. Then he leaned back and snapped a few selfies with the girls, before they giggled and skipped away. It was so like him to be kind to everyone and include them in the big night. He’d been a good guy like that for as long as I could remember. Everyone who knew Brian became his friend. He was so warm and funny and . . . would never be my boyfriend. So why couldn’t I stop thinking about him in that way?
Jackson returned, handing me a glass of champagne. “This might help with your nerves.”
“You’re a savior,” I joked, taking the glass and letting my eyes scan the room again. I’d never met the other contestants. Well, except for Chelsea. I knew there were four of us, though, and only three would make the first cut tonight. One of my biggest fears was that I’d be cut on this first night, and not go forward in the competition.
My legs turned liquid as I considered the very real possibility that I could be out. My heart lodged in my throat as Susannah Grimes, the emcee, stepped up on the makeshift stage. She waved her hands over her head to try to quell the laughter and lively conversations, and when her attempt failed she grabbed the mic and spoke. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Please gather around. We’re ready to start the competition.”
We all hushed and surged toward the front. I held my breath. Jackson whispered, “Just breathe,” into my ear. It was hard to calm down when I hadn’t been able to talk to Brian. I turned and spotted him just a few people down. He caught my eye and gave me a small smile.
“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, sponsors and contestants.” The mic gave out a squeal of feedback and we all flinched. Susannah tapped the mic. “Sorry about that. Seems to be working now. Tonight, we celebrate our readers, artists, and the community of Blue Moon Bay. This library has been important to us for generations and hosting this competition helps us bridge friendships with artists locally and abroad.”
A thunderous round of applause ensued.
“I’d like to announce the judges for The Best of Blue Moon Bay competition, the owners of The Rossi Art Gallery in Florence, Italy. Antonio Rossi. Piero Rossi. Dino Rossi. And Cesare Rossi. Let’s give them a warm welcome tonight.”
I clapped my hands, studying the judges, who didn’t seem to be much older than my own twenty-seven years. Piero appeared to be the eldest, possibly in his early thirties. All four were dark-haired, handsome men and I hoped my painting would appeal to their taste in art. We’d soon find out.
The judges held up their hands, saying things like, “Grazie,” and “Thank you so much.”
Susannah waited for the applause to die down, then she said, “Now for the moment you’ve all been waiting for. We’re going to unveil each painting and introduce you to the contestants! First, we have Megan Wallace, artist. Custom frame by Jackson Davis.”
My feet seemed frozen as I realized the clapping was for me. Me! Luckily, Jackson seemed calm, cool, and collected. His hand found the spot on my lower back and he guided me to the stage. We waved to everyone, smiling as the news outlets took our pictures and filmed us. My painting was unveiled, encased in a beautiful burl oak frame. Silence ensued. I began to panic as I heard a few gasps from the audience. Was their reaction good or bad?
I dared to look over at my painting. I’d captured the magical blue waves of the ocean, making them look ethereal. The bobbing books matched the light golden-brown specs in the frame and the readers perched on the books were bright and colorful. In whole, the painting captured the spirit of the Blue Moon Bay library. The ocean had literally taken over the room in that painting and the frame made its rippling effect seem even more meaningful.
Pride filled me. That was my work right there. I’d displayed it for everyone to see. I scanned the audience until my gaze met Brian’s. His smile was huge. He was literally beaming and I could see how proud he was. My heart knocked against my ribs, making me feel dizzy. He gave me a thumbs-up sign that brought a smile to my face.
“Next we have Mike Harper, a local house painter, and the artist. Custom frame by his son, Thomas Harper, who most of you know as the cook down at the diner. However, it seems Thomas loves woodworking as well!”
When their joint effort was unveiled, I gasped. The painting was really beautiful. It was a rendering of the original library, done in pen and ink and dark charcoal paint on a large canvas. The wooden frame appeared to be reclaimed wood, worked until it was bone-china thin and nearly transparent, giving the frame an antique appearance. I loved it. How could I not? I wanted to win, but I had to appreciate the soul in that work.
“Now, we have Kari Smith, artist. Custom frame by her sister, Tabitha Smith!” The announcement brought a fresh round of applause. After the women stepped onto the stage, the painting was unveiled to reveal a pretty landscape that showed Blue Moon Bay under a sunny sky, a small girl reading a book on the beach with one leg crossed haphazardly over the other. The frame was made of a nice polished wood with fancy corners that drew the eye.
The mic squealed again. “Oops, sorry,” Susannah said.
Laughter rocked the room.
“Lastly, we have Chelsea Chambers, renowned local artist. Custom frame by Brian Watts, owner of the charming Inn at Blue Moon Bay!”
Chelsea laced her arm through Brian’s and raced for the stage, waving at the audience and blowing kisses at them. She smirked at
me on her way up. Then her painting was unveiled. Chelsea’s painting was stellar, of course. Her painting showed the renovated library empty at night, a blue moon glowing through the large windows, casting ethereal shadows across the bookshelves. Ocean waves rose high behind the building, completing the scene.
The painting was incredible but, to me, Brian’s frame was the real art in that pairing. A stab of envy hit me. Jackson’s work was stupendous. Amazing and unusual and a real testament to his skill. Brian’s was more subtle and so beautiful that it warmed my heart. The wood practically glowed. It had been hand carved with dolphins and whales and moons. That frame defined Blue Moon Bay. I glanced over at him and smiled. He gave me a small nod in acknowledgement.
“The judges will now take some time to discuss the paintings. While that is happening, please enjoy the music, the hors d’oeuvres, and good company,” Susannah said, cheerfully.
People approached me, praising my painting. I said thank you over and over, and felt more than a little overwhelmed by the compliments.
Suddenly, Brian appeared at my side. “I love your painting.”
“I love your frame.” I reached out and pulled him into a hug, unable to help myself. My face burrowed into his neck for a moment and I breathed in the earthy scent that was all him. Shivers ran down my spine. Then I stepped back, hoping I didn’t appear all flushed.
“Thank you.” He peered down at me with those emerald-green eyes, his hair mussed in an adorable way, as usual. “Do you remember when we used to sit on the lawn behind the inn, right by the ocean and read books together?”
I blinked. Then I swallowed hard. He remembered that? We hadn’t done that since our college years. “I remember.”
“Your painting reminded me of those times, of us, sitting out there on the grass reading the funny parts of our books aloud to one another.”
“I . . .” I fought back tears, suddenly speechless. What I wanted to say I couldn’t say—that I wanted him to see me as a grown woman, not as a sister-type, and that I wanted to be so much more than just friends with him. Looking into his eyes, I sensed emotions storming deep inside. And for a moment, I wondered if he felt what I was feeling, too.
Then he chucked me gently under the chin. “I knew you could do it. I hope Chelsea’s got her A-game on, because she’s going to need it. I think you’re going to win this thing.”
“You do?” I asked, as both disappointment and hope flooded through me. Obviously I’d misread that moment I’d thought passed between us. But Brian thought I had a chance to win? I looked over at the judges, who were all busy tallying up the scores. My nerves went taut. “I have to make this cut tonight first.”
“You will,” he said, his tone deep and sure.
“I’m sorry we argued. I’m sorry I didn’t work with you. I really should have. Your frame is everything.” My pulse quickened. Maybe I should just tell him how I felt. I’d put myself out there with my art, so why not put my heart on the line as well? I opened my mouth—
The mic screeched. Loudly.
We both jumped. Chelsea dashed up, the raven goddess in her red dress. She latched onto Brian’s arm and pulled him toward the stage. “They’re getting ready to announce the winners!”
My face drained of color. Nerves crept up my throat. Brian had just been yanked away from me and he was the one person who could calm me in this moment when my entire future was on the line. Instead, Jackson came to my side and smiled, clasping his hands in front of him. Brian turned over his shoulder and looked at us, his jaw locked tight. I had no idea why he looked so intense. It was so obvious he and Chelsea were in.
The crowd surged forward. Jackson and I were carried along with them and so were Chelsea and Brian. My stomach did major gymnastics as the written results were handed over to Susannah. I tried to breathe, but my chest felt heavy and weighted. Jackson leaned toward me.
“It’s okay.”
No. No it wasn’t. I leaned forward and scanned the crowd, searching for Brian. He leaned forward, too. Our gazes met, his green eyes soft and sweet. Something relaxed inside me with that one look, a comforting feeling that said no matter what happened everything would be all right. But I so didn’t want to be cut. . .
“The first artist and woodworker who have made it to the next round . . . Chelsea and Brian Watts!”
What? She’d used Brian’s last name for both of them. I was excited that Brian was going to the second round, but Susannah made them sound like a married couple. So not something I wanted to stomach right now. Still, I felt proud as he walked by and I touched his arm. He turned to look at me. His eyes were slightly dazed and a huge smile lit his face. I opened my mouth to tell him congratulations but Chelsea gave a mighty tug, hauling him toward the stage.
Applause rocked the room. I had to strain to hear the next words being announced. “Our second winner . . . Mike Harper and Thomas Harper!”
Not me. Oh, no. Only one more artist to be announced. . .
I squeezed my eyes shut. Tears pricked behind my lids, but I blinked my eyes open and focused my gaze on Brian. He stared back at me and his right eye closed in a fast wink that helped steady me. If my name wasn’t called, I felt determined to continue painting. I just wouldn’t be doing it in Italy this year.
“Come on, come on,” Jackson whispered. His little chant surprised me. Up until then he’d been so steady and collected.
Susannah beamed as she opened her mouth again. “And for our last artist and woodworker going to the next round . . .”
“Megan Wallace and Jackson Davis!”
A bolt of electricity zapped my chest and I stared at Brian. She’d called my name. I’d seriously made it through the first round of the competition? For real?
“Great job,” Jackson said, leading me toward the stage.
I stopped next to Brian. His head turned my way and my belly filled with butterflies as I took in the deep smile resting on his mouth. “I told you you’d be here,” he said.
Then he leaned over and kissed me! Right there in front of everyone.
Okay, it was just a kiss on the cheek. But, it didn’t matter where he’d kissed me. Those tingles double-timed themselves up my spine, but before I could think of a single thing to do or say he turned and walked away. My hand crept to my cheek and I stood there, speechless, with my heart pounding against my ribs.
Brian had never kissed me before, not even on the cheek. Did he mean that in a congratulatory way? If so, then why hadn’t he kissed Chelsea. I mean, hello? She was his partner for crying out loud. For the rest of the night, I glowed on my win.
And I glowed on Brian’s kiss. If only I knew what it meant.
Chapter Five
The Mexican restaurant, Frankie’s Fiesta, was one of our favorite gathering spots downtown and I was so looking forward to our girls’ lunch. I approached the bright red door, which opened before I could reach the handle. The hostess welcomed me into the jam-packed lobby, and I told her I was meeting friends. She directed me to the booth that Wendy and Janine had luckily secured. Otherwise, it would’ve been a long wait.
I walked across the tiles, my pink sandals tapping merrily along the way. Wendy and Janine sat on one side of the booth and I slid into the other. “Olivia couldn’t make it?” I asked.
Janine shook her head. “No, she took the afternoon off and went for a sail with Brody.”
“Good for her. She needs some time off.” I turned to the server to order a glass of iced tea. The waiter appeared to be a frazzled mess. He jotted our drink orders down while nodding, but his eyes kept going to the other tables and I could see clear panic written there.
I leaned forward, eager to start a conversation with my friends, but not sure how to approach it. I needed some advice and quick. Brian’s kiss on the cheek at the art competition last Friday night had basically killed my ability to sleep. I kept replaying that simple brush of his lips against my cheek over and over. I’d finally concluded he hadn’t meant anything by it. Because, hello? He
’d rushed off afterward.
I had to get over Brian. I just didn’t know how to do that. I’d had bad dates before and I’d been hurt, but I’d never had to work this hard to get over someone. I was at a total loss as to what to do. To make matters worse, I couldn’t just come out and say my crush was Brian, either. The fact that he was Wendy’s brother just made my feelings all the more complicated.
“Are you okay?” Wendy touched my arm, making me jerk out of my thoughts. “You look a little flustered.”
I fidgeted in my seat. “Well—”
“Here you go.” The waiter reappeared beside our table. He plunked our glasses down in front of us and then asked if we were ready to order.
“I haven’t even looked at the menu yet,” I said, my throat beyond dry. I stuck a straw in my drink and took a long pull, while trying to buy some time to figure out how to answer Wendy’s earlier question without mentioning Brian. The liquid hit my throat in a fiery burst of flames. My eyes watered and then I choked. “What is that?”
The waiter shifted back and forth. “Uh, you didn’t order the Long Island Iced Tea?”
“Just iced tea.” I shook my head and shoved the glass toward the center of the table. I had a website to finish designing today. I couldn’t afford to drink at lunch or I’d be worthless the rest of the day.
Wendy eyed the drink in front of her like it was a snake. “Is mine really a lemonade?”
“I must’ve mixed up the drinks. I apologize.” The waiter grabbed the glasses and dashed off.
Wendy giggled. I did, too.
Janine turned her head to watch him go. “I hope he doesn’t give that drink to anyone else.”
“They’re in for a surprise if he does.” I opened the menu and browsed my usual favorites. “I think I’ll go with the shrimp and crab on romaine salad, hold the guacamole. I ate way too many cookies last night.”
“You haven’t dropped cookies by the inn lately.” Wendy said the words absently as she ran her finger down the menu. “I’m going to go healthy today as well.”
