by Dawn Atkins
Wade rolled his eyes. "Look it over and give me your analysis by Friday, okay?"
"You got it," she said, glancing guiltily around the table. But no one looked at her with disdain. No one treated her like she was the weak link in the management chain. In fact, Wade had several times used the Wonder Coffeehouse renovation as an example of savvy marketing and trend watching, deferring to her on cost projections and demographics. He didn't act like he'd given her the job, and he certainly expected her to pull her own weight. She'd just have to find a way to get into it more. She tried pinching herself, but that just made her eyes water. She couldn't stop thinking about Max.
Tricking her with Max was something Wade should feel guilty about. If he hadn't dragged Max onto the scene, she'd never have fallen in love with him or gotten her heart broken. She'd be happily figuring cost projections and lovingly digging into strategic planning right now.
But without Max she would have failed with the coffeehouse. That was the worst of it. Wade had counted on Max, not her. Despite her best efforts she'd been babied again.
Pierce caught her eye with a sympathetic smile from across the table. They'd become friends in the past few weeks. He'd begun dating the woman who took the marketing job Wade had intended for Lacey. She was perfect for him. They even had the same personal trainer.
She and Pierce had gone to Alberto's for a Flaming Flan Fantastique for old time's sake, and he'd sheepishly admitted Lacey had been right that their relationship had been held together by habit and inertia. She'd told him she was happy for him, and he'd sympathized about the breakup with Max. Bless his heart, he'd even offered to talk to Max for her. That had been the last thing she needed. Though thinking of the way those two had squared off in the diner did make her smile.
She smiled back at Pierce in thanks.
The meeting concluded and Lacey headed back to her spectacular office with its sleek furnishings and fabulous city view to mope.
She missed the coffeehouse, too, and everything about it. She missed Jasper, Ramón, even Monty Python and that damned two-headed bobcat. The clock on her computer said nine-thirty. Maybe she'd call about that leak in the soda machine. Stuart Paulsen, the temporary manager, would be in by now. Since Lacey hadn't been able to find someone with the right combination of vision, people skills and dedication to take over for her, Wade had asked Stuart, who managed Quixote Con Queso, a successful Wellington restaurant in Tucson, to fill in for a few weeks. Just until Lacey had collected a new set of candidates and found just the right person.
"Hi Stu," she said when he answered the phone.
"Lacey. Oh. What is it?" He sounded irritated. Was she being a pest?
"Just wanted to know if you got the leak in the soda machine fixed," she said cheerily, "or if you need the number of the repair guy."
"The soda machine's fine, Lacey. I told you before you had everything perfectly organized for me. The restaurant's fine. The weather's fine. Everything's fine."
"Oh. Well, then." She knew that was true, and Stuart had told Wade as much, too. She'd done a good job with the coffeehouse, according to everyone. That took some of the sting out of the way things turned out, but not all of it.
Stuart sighed wearily. "You want to talk to Ramón?"
"If he's not in the middle of something."
"Hang on."
She had to cut herself off – stop calling. Still, her heart began to beat harder as Ramón answered the phone.
"Bueno. Lacey, qué pasa?"
"Nada mucho," she said. "How's it going with you?"
"Bien, bien." Then there was a pause. "Same as yesterday," he said, knowing what she wanted to know. "He had coffee around eight. Didn't eat anything. Then he went over to help Jasper with his books. He got a new pair of boots. Very fly. From the bootmaker he's working with. Got them in trade."
"Really? New boots?" She knew this was childish – to grill Ramón for details about Max like a teen girl with a secret crush. "Does he seem okay? I mean … is he…?"
"Over you? No. Chica, he's got it bad for you. He's all grumpy, man. He's getting skinny, too. You should never have left his ass."
"Thanks, Ramón." Why this ritual exchange made her feel better, she didn't know. Ramón had no way to know if Max was over her or not. He just wanted to reassure her.
The truth was, she still loved Max. The fact had grown larger inside her since they'd parted, ballooning like one of those rafts in a sitcom where someone pulls the string in a closet, filling her to bursting, until she could barely breathe.
She kept telling herself she'd fallen in love with a fantasy cowboy, not the pointy-penciled accountant who was the real Max McLane. But it didn't help. Even though he'd lied to her, dismissed her dream, didn't respect her, wanted to run her life, she loved him. Even though he'd been a sheep in wolf's clothing every minute they'd known each other, she loved him.
Somehow, it made her feel better to know she wasn't alone in her misery. Luckily, Ramón didn't question this strange dance of grief and regret.
"I gotta go, chica. A batch of chiles need peeling."
"Sure, sure. Thanks, Ramón."
"You should come down and check it out around here," he said. "You made this place tick."
"It wasn't just me."
"Without you … nada."
Maybe Ramón was right. It had been her concept, her plan. But it had also been Max's management and Wade's extra capital. "Hasta luego, Ramón."
Unsatisfied, but determined to do the right thing, Lacey turned back to her computer, willing herself to get fired up about the financial statement she was to analyze. Her eye caught on the photo she'd taped to her monitor. Max had taken the shot of Lacey, Ramón and Jasper the afternoon of the opening. She held the circular saw in one hand and she was laughing. She'd been so happy. She and Max were just hours away from the most fabulous sex she'd ever had in her life. In this picture, she was filled with hope and anticipation and passion and pride. But it had all been a fantasy – her renovating the café her sleeping with a cowboy and Max falling in love with her.
Enough of that. She had to get serious about her new life. This was her future. This was what she'd wanted. What she still wanted. Locking her jaw with determination, she shoved the photo in a drawer, flipped open the folder and got to work.
* * *
"You're going tomorrow night, aren't you?" In his usual abrupt way, Wade had stuck his head into Lacey's office without knocking to ask her the question.
"Going where?" she asked, knowing full well what he meant.
"To Jasper's gallery opening, you goof."
"I don't know, Wade. I'm pretty busy here." She was busy, working to transform a deli she'd convinced Wade would make a great coffeehouse. But that wasn't why she didn't want to go. She was afraid to see Max again. Especially now that she'd finally gotten into the swing of things here.
"Lacey." Wade frowned and came to half-sit on her desk. "This is Jasper's opening. You can't miss it. It's your place. Don't you want to see how things are going?"
"It's not my place, Wade. You know that." The idea still stung that Max had been in charge of the project.
"Not that same argument, Lace. The Wonder Coffeehouse is pure you. What are you working so hard on, anyway?"
"I'm negotiating equipment purchases right now."
He looked over her shoulder a moment. "Ah, you can do that with your eyes closed."
Possibly true. But she was grateful for the day-to-day tasks and the hands-on work at the deli, since it kept her distracted from missing Max, and reminded her of the Wonder Coffeehouse.
"Nice job on negotiating the lease for the expansion space," Wade said. "I couldn't have done better myself."
"Thanks." She studied her brother. Was this another guilt-laced compliment? She was too weary to wonder anymore. She was a little disappointed that even now that she'd settled in she still didn't have the energy and excitement she'd expected. She'd probably been unrealistic about how it would feel to have her d
ream come true.
"So, have you figured out who my spy is?"
"Very funny." He was referring to the fact that for a while she'd been suspicious he'd assigned someone to secretly supervise her on the deli project, like he had with the Wonder Coffeehouse. As far as she could tell, he'd given her free rein, budget and all, with no more than the normal reports he required of any project manager.
"You just don't see it, do you?" He shook his head. "I guess I should be glad. If you knew what you were worth I'd have to pay you more." She wished he wouldn't flatter her like that.
"Well, I better get back to it," she said, wanting him to leave. She felt Wade's eyes on her, but she didn't look up. Then he blew out a breath and stood. She heard him walk to the door. Good, he was giving up on her going to the gallery. She just couldn't face Max right now. She'd visit Jasper later.
She looked up to tell him goodbye and found him staring at her.
"Lacey, go to the opening. I mean it." She'd never seen him look so serious. "Jasper needs you there. Other, um, people need you there."
"I don't know, Wade. It's complicated…"
"I'm only your brother. It's your life, like you're always telling me, but I think you owe this to yourself."
"It's too hard right now."
"Sometimes you've gotta suck it up and do it." He smiled, then returned to his normal brusque tone. "Besides, you need to kick some butt at the coffeehouse. Stu's blowing it with the staff. He's no Lacey Wellington."
"I'll think about it," she said, her heart already beginning to pound. For the first time in years, she thought Wade might actually be right.
* * *
Chapter 12
«^
All the way to the gallery, Lacey's stomach clutched and her palms sweated. She'd decided Wade was right. She should face things – face Max. And she owed it to Jasper to support him. She was excited to see the gallery, it was true, and anxious to see the coffeehouse again. It was just seeing Max that made her nervous. Though she secretly couldn't wait to see him.
She knew he'd be at the opening. He'd been helping Jasper with the business side of the gallery. Though he'd been a half-assed cowboy and a lame handyman, Max knew his way around a spreadsheet. According to Jasper he had several clients he was helping. He'd set up some kind of consulting service. That was good. More up his alley than construction work, that was certain.
She arrived a half hour after the open house had begun and the Wonder Coffeehouse parking lot was jammed with cars. Clusters of people stood outside the gallery entrance, and she could see the coffeehouse was crowded, too. Her heart swelled with pride. She'd helped make this happen.
She saw with delight that the Quonset hut had been transformed from a temporary-looking warehouse to a happening place. Its corrugated surface had been painted to look like a blue sky filled with fluffy clouds and whimsical renditions of some of Jasper's sculptures. Against the pink and purple sunset, the place looked like something designed by Disney – fantastical and sweet.
The lush dusk held a soft breeze that lifted Lacey's hair the way her heart lifted just being here. It was like stepping out of a smoke-filled bar to cool mountain air. Like stripping off panty hose after a broiling walk across a mall parking lot. Like crawling through a cave and coming out to a wide sky. Like coming home.
That was it. It felt like home. She wanted to hug the place – the gallery, the coffeehouse, even the Amazatorium – put it all in a huge sack and carry it with her. She had the terrible thought that Max might have been right. Maybe she did belong here. She'd been happy here. Really happy. Even hard at work on the deli, she didn't feel anything close to this feeling in Phoenix. The sight wavered before her eyes and she realized her eyes were filled with tears.
No, no. She'd made her decision. She'd live with it. Blinking away the tears, she headed for the gallery entrance, eager to congratulate Jasper and braced for her first sight of Max. What would she say to him?
Inside, country club types in flashy cocktail clothes mingled with young hipsters in funky costumes and brightly colored hair. Everyone sipped champagne from plastic flutes and the place hummed with cheerful conversation. Manny Romero and his lederhosen-clad trio were playing in the back.
The gallery looked great. Huge skylights made the place feel open and airy. The studio area was separated by a lighted glass barrier. Among the newer sculptures, she spotted familiar pieces that Jasper had spiffed up. The totem of appliances was taller and burnished brightly. The farm implement couple had been placed in a frame of barn-red wood. Art hung overhead, suspended on wire – a giant milk carton with ears and an udder, a barber pole transformed into a rocket. The effect was of bright metal, whimsical shapes and colors, fun and fantasy.
Then she spotted Jasper. He wore worker overalls, with a red-white-and-blue bandana tied over his head in gangster style. He looked like he did every day, except the overalls were clean and he'd let his gray hair flow freely down his back instead of tying it in a ponytail. When he caught sight of Lacey, he called her name and strode toward her.
"Uncle Jasper," she said, hugging him when he reached her.
"I'm so happy you made it."
"The place looks fabulous. How's it going?"
"Great. I've already sold three pieces, and when I wouldn't sell the Eiffel Tower, an architect commissioned me to make another one. He has some downtown renovations he wants me to consider building pieces for. Unbelievable."
"That's great."
"I'm actually going to make some money, looks like. Hard to believe." He shook his head like someone who'd just won the lottery.
"Don't sound so surprised. You're a wonderful artist. Why shouldn't you make money?"
"It's all kind of surreal," he said. "Anyway, did you see it?"
"See what?"
At her quizzical look, he took her arm. "Come here." He led her to the reception desk, beside which stood a five-foot sculpture of stylized wings emerging from strips of steel twisted like flames. An overhead spot created flashing prisms around the sculpture, which was entitled "Lacey's Phoenix." Underneath the title, it said "Dedicated to Lacey Wellington, who made my dream real."
"Jasper," she said, tears springing to her eyes. "I can't believe you did that … I mean, you shouldn't give me that much credit. You did all this, not me." She gestured at the amazing art, the buzzing crowd.
"You gave me the courage. You bought the hut. You suggested the gallery. You were always there for me. You believed in me, Lacey. I wouldn't be here without you."
"But all I did was help you. The project was yours. I—" She stopped as her words echoed in her ears. All I did was help you. That was exactly what Max had said about his work on the café. But she hadn't believed him. She'd insisted, like Jasper was doing right now, that he was the one who'd succeeded, not her. But Jasper was clearly wrong.
Had she been wrong, too?
She thought about what Wade had said about her work on the new coffeehouse and how he had asked her advice over the past two months, told her to help Stu with the staff. Maybe he hadn't been complimenting her out of guilt. Maybe he'd meant it. You just don't get it, do you? Maybe she did deserve more credit than she'd allowed herself.
She looked into Jasper's kind eyes, moist with emotion. "I'm honored and humbled, Uncle Jasper." She hugged his bony shoulders, then stepped back.
"Now, go find Max and put him out of his misery," Jasper said.
"What?"
"He's a good man, Lacey, and he's been mopin' around here like a bad boy at Christmas."
She didn't even try to act like she didn't care. Her mind was already racing with new thoughts, new possibilities. She had to talk to Max about what he'd done for her and why.
"He went that way. Turn left at the totem pole." Jasper pointed toward the back of the gallery.
Lacey searched the huge room with her eyes, past a Plexiglas bathtub filled with blue water and rubber duckies and a trio of green-haired twenty-somethings sipping champagne. Then she sa
w him, standing between the giant ice-cream cone and the Eiffel Tower made of barbed wire. In her eyes, he seemed to glow in soft-focus.
She ran to him as best she could through the milling crowd, weaving and dodging until she stood before him, breathless and nervous.
He looked thinner than when she'd last seen him. And sadder. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt and khakis … and no cowboy hat. This was the real Max McLane, the former accountant, not the cowboy. She was happy to notice that didn't change how she felt about him one bit.
"Lacey." Max's eyes lit at the sight of her, then they seemed to tug at her, full of longing and lust, like he wanted to cherish her and undress her all at once.
"Max." She felt hot all over, and more alive than she'd ever felt in her life. She wanted to fly into his arms, but she fought the impulse. They had to talk first. "Tell me again why you took over the coffeehouse renovation. I think I'm ready to listen."
"Why I what?" His eyes searched her face, puzzled but hopeful. "Okay. Well, Wade asked me to do him a favor, and—"
"Not that part. The part about wanting to help me."
"Oh. Yeah. Sure. My job was to help – get extra funding and watch the budget and—"
"But it was my idea and my work, right? No matter what Wade or you did?"
"Of course. The Wonder Coffeehouse is your creation. Your success. Nothing Wade and I did changed that."
For the first time, she heard him. Really heard him. Without feeling insecure or defensive or betrayed. "And it doesn't matter what Wade thinks or you think about what I did," she said slowly, tears filling her eyes. "It only matters what I think about what I did. All this time I've been fighting to earn Wade's respect, when all along the respect I needed was my own."
Max smiled, soft and slow, and nodded. "Exactly." His eyes held her, warm and full of love. "You know, you always had my respect, Lacey."
"Really? You weren't just humoring me?"
"Humoring you? Are you crazy? You're amazing. You're smart and determined and good with people. You turned this place around on a dime and still helped Jasper with his gallery. Look at how you found work for Ramón and his family. Lacey, you're a wonder." His face was filled with such love and pride, she wondered how she ever could have thought he would tell her how to run her life.
