Love Finds You in Humble Texas

by Anita Higman

  The doorbell rang. That would be Wiley. Trudie hurried to the door and opened it. “Hi, Wiley. Hi.” She tried to remain cool, but the effort was useless.

  Wiley stepped back. “My goodness, Trudie. Have you been out in the sun or something?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Makeup. Lots of it.” Well, and Lane’s expensive outfits.

  “Well, makeup looks very good on you.”

  “Thanks. Come on in.”

  Wiley stepped inside and kissed her hand as if he’d happened upon a princess in a fairy tale. “Thank you for letting us come with such little notice.”

  “Did you say us?” Trudie wondered if she’d heard wrong. What could he mean?

  “I hope you don’t mind. My partner came along too. Kat.”

  “Kat?” Trudie’s face started to tingle.

  “Yes, she’s—”

  Before Wiley could continue his speech, a middle-aged woman dressed in black whirled inside her apartment. “You must be Ms. Abernathy. I’m Kat Stone.” She raised her chin, looking Trudie over. Kat had the body of an ironing board, the countenance of a prosecuting attorney, and the voice of a mouse. That is, if mice could talk.

  “Hi.” Trudie reached out and shook her hand. “Ms. Stone, it’s so good to—”

  “Wiley tells me you have some work for us to look at. I have a few minutes.” Kat glanced at her watch. “I don’t normally do this...come to someone’s home. It’s just not kosher. But, well, Wiley convinced me to. What can one say about Wiley?” She patted his cheek. “He’s just Wiley.”

  Wiley smiled, rolling his eyes.

  “Well, let me take you to my studio.” Trudie led them into her spare bedroom, hoping the space would give the right impression. Kat didn’t look like the sort of woman who would tolerate hobbies. It had to be either real work or nothing at all. Trudie held her breath as Kat and Wiley shuffled through her ultra neat pile of watercolors.

  Trudie stepped away from their huddle as they made little comments and little grunting noises. She got the impression their tiny sounds back and forth were private, so she stayed away until they’d made it all the way through the pile.

  Kat spun around and looked at Trudie. “How long have you been painting?”

  “Well, not that long.” Trudie clasped her hands together to keep them from shaking. “But I did paint and sell my work when I was a girl.”

  Kat glanced around the room. “There’s not much natural light in this room. Does that bother you to work in a dungeon?”

  “I would prefer a better place to paint, but this is all I have at present. But I hope to attend a school—”

  “What are these?” Kat’s forefinger pointed toward the floor.

  Before Trudie could stop her, Kat reached down and pulled up a miscellaneous stack of paintings, ones that had been hidden between the worktable and the canvas cart. Apparently they weren’t hidden well enough. “Those were experiments. I’m sorry to say they went—”

  “Upp.” Kat’s arm popped up like a traffic guard to stop all chatter.

  Trudie bit her lip, waiting for Kat to explode with disgust. But she didn’t. She tilted her head and studied them one by one. Wiley looked over her shoulder, and together they made a new kind of grunting sound. She overheard the words “Fauvism,” and “Rousseau,” and “pure color.” When they were finished, they both turned and faced her simultaneously.

  “We have an opening soon, since the artist we were going to feature became quite ill with shingles. So, you may have her date on our calendar. We wanted to bring in something fresh, and this is it.”

  Trudie felt her face go hot. “But I don’t feel it’s my best work. It’s just not what—”

  “Upp.” Kat raised a forefinger and looked her up and down. “So, you don’t want us to feature your work?”

  “No, I do. Of course. It’s just that it’s such a surprise. I wasn’t even going to show you these pieces. I don’t think they’re ready to be—”

  “Well, life is bursting with surprises, isn’t it, Ms. Abernathy? Just when we think we know the shapes and colors of our lives, we see new ones that come from nowhere. You’re an artist. You should know that. Great art doesn’t just jostle us awake. It grabs us by the throat.” Kat made a fist in the air. “It demands that we take another look, experience a new awareness. Great art tells us that there are still things in life that can provoke us and confound us and arouse us. If art gives us even a faraway glimpse into that dimension and ideal, then we have succeeded.” Her hand floated outward as if she’d just completed a grand soliloquy on stage.

  Trudie swallowed. “I don’t know what to say.”

  Kat tilted her head, appearing stunned. “I think a thank you is considered customary. Don’t you think?” she added in her little mouse voice.

  “Thank you.” Trudie straightened her shoulders. “Both of you.”

  Kat handed the watercolors to Wiley, and he returned them to their hiding place. “You’ll need a few more for the show. So get busy. We’ll be in touch to work out the details. There’ll be an agreement to sign.”

  Trudie nodded. “Yes. That’ll be fine.”

  “I was right about Ms. Abernathy.” Wiley wiggled his eyebrows. “I could see it in her eyes.”

  “Don’t start gloating, Wiley. It’ll only add to your waistline. And it makes you much too loquacious to endure.” Kat raised her arm in a dramatic gesture. “Shall we go?”

  Wiley rolled his eyes, grinning. “We shall.”

  Then Wiley and the woman named Kat marched toward the front door. Trudie fell in their wake, swallowing two lumps—one of awe and one of panic.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Lane sat in her car in front of Mason’s office, feeling drained of her usual vigor. Two weeks had passed since the day of the funeral, and she hadn’t seen or talked to him since then. She prayed the worst wave of grief was over for him. For herself, she only hoped that she could get through her little speech—the one she’d practiced over and over in front of the mirror. The speech Mason would need to hear. She left her car and opened the front door to Wimberley Financial Services.

  “Good morning, Ms. Abernathy,” Lily said from behind the front desk. She quickly set something down and wiped her mouth on a napkin.

  “Hi.” Lane glanced down, curious about what Lily was munching on. It was a protein bar. Hmm. Be careful. Sometimes those things could really pack on the calories, but she also noticed that Lily didn’t have an ounce of fat on her. Well, isn’t that just lovely for Lily? Lane breathed a quick prayer for the young woman. It was a new routine she’d just adopted—to say a prayer for anyone she’d entertained an ugly thought about. Lane noticed the habit was keeping her busy praying for people.

  “Mr. Wimberley has been expecting you.” Lily pursed her lips into a rosebud. “But before you go in, I wanted to ask you a question. Mr. Wimberley told me you were an image coach.”

  “Yes, that’s correct.”

  “Well, you always seem so, well, graceful and put together.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’d like...I think I could use some help. I want to do a really great job for Mr. Wimberley, and sometimes I get kind of, well, tongue-tied. So, maybe I could hire you to help me with that.”

  “I’d be happy to.” Lane pulled a card from her purse and offered it to her.

  “Perfect.” Lily accepted the card, beaming, and then motioned toward Mason’s door. “You may go right in.”

  “Thanks.” If Lily was still concerned about being a good secretary for Mason, he must not have told her his news—that he was making a very profound career change. Lane stepped into Mason’s office and shut the door.

  He rose a bit when she came in. “Hi, Lane.” He smiled and motioned toward the chair in front of his desk. “Please have a seat.”

  Lane sat down and looked around his office, avoiding his eyes. “I like all the plants you’ve added.”

  Mason glanced around at them. “They’re from the funeral.
”

  “Oh. I think it’s nice when people bring live plants as gifts. It reminds us...you know, that your father is still alive. Just not here with us.”

  “It is a good reminder.” Mason folded his hands in front of him.

  They both paused.

  Mason started speaking at the same time as Lane. They chuckled.

  “Ladies first.”

  Lane sighed. “I’m afraid that line makes me nervous now. The last time you said that, I admitted something to you that has since embarrassed me. Or at least I feel requires some explaining. Which is why I made this appointment with you.”

  “You mean what you said in your apartment that day.”

  Lane felt her face color. “Yes, that would be the line I’m referring to.”

  “There’s no need to—”

  She put her hand up. “Please. Let me get this out. I’ve practiced it many times. Some months ago when you asked me out, I enjoyed being with you, but I wasn’t sure it was wise for us to go out. I’d learned in the past that business doesn’t always mix with dating. But as I got to know you better...in spite of my own warnings, I...” Her voice faded.

  “You fell in love.” Mason smiled. “There’s no crime in loving someone. I’m deeply honored that you would feel that way.”

  Lane looked at him then, seeing nothing more than compassion in his eyes. “Yes, but as you know, the problem comes in when the other person doesn’t feel the same way.”

  “To say anything but the truth wouldn’t be right.” Mason looked at her. “I’m fond of you, Lane. I respect and admire you. But I’m not in love with you.”

  She nodded. “I appreciate your openness. It makes everything clear that way.”

  “I can see the pain in your eyes, and I’m sorry to have put it there.”

  “But I’m not surprised at what you’ve told me.” Lane fidgeted with her hands, a luxury she never allowed herself to indulge in. “You’re a gentleman in every way. I suppose that was one of the reasons I...well.” Lane crossed her arms to stop her twitching. “It’s funny. Well, not really funny. But I’d convinced myself that you felt differently. I had forced myself to believe a falsehood.” She shook her head. “How can we fool ourselves so deeply?”

  “Easy. People do it all the time.”

  Lane leaned on the arm of the chair. “How do you mean?”

  “Well, I frequently see clients who become very good at fooling themselves. They live like they’re rich when they’re anything but. They’ve told themselves the lie long enough that they start believing it.”

  “Yes, I guess I can see that one pretty easily. But to do it with the heart seems...I don’t know...I guess imprudent is a good word for it.” Lane gave him a smile that she knew was weak.

  “You’re being kind of rough on yourself. Don’t you think?”

  “No.” She shrugged. “Maybe I am a little. But lately I’ve been learning all sorts of new things about myself. Things that aren’t so positive. I guess it’s that season of my life.” Lane wondered if she were being too outspoken with Mason. Perhaps she’d gone too far baring her soul.

  Mason rose and sat on the edge of his desk. “Since my father died, I’ve discovered a few things about myself as well.”

  “Oh?”

  “I found out that I miss my father even more than I imagined I would. And that the transition over to the family business is not quite how I had envisioned it.”

  “Is it harder?”

  “Yes. For me it is.” He took in a deep breath. “These past two weeks have been...illuminating.”

  “What do you think will happen?” Lane was surprised at Mason’s candor.

  “I don’t know. I feel at an impasse in my life. Well, more precisely, I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff without any ropes.” Now Mason was fidgeting with his hands.

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  Mason looked at her. “Pray.”

  “That I know how to do. I’ve done a lot of it lately.” She cleared her throat. “The other reason I came...actually the main reason I came...was to mention that there is a woman named Trudie...who will no longer run from you.” Lane smiled. She tried to make it a genuine smile even though she thought it might have come off a little propped up. “Trudie knew how I felt, and she was being kindhearted toward her younger sister. But my acceptance of her generosity caused a lot of pain. I can see it now. And for that I apologize.”

  “But you did it for love. Hard to be too upset about that, Lane.”

  She smiled again, this time feeling it all the way through her. Time to go. She rose to leave.

  “Thank you for coming today. It must have been hard to say all that.”

  “It was.” Lane chuckled. “And you’re welcome.”

  Mason went over to her and gave her a brotherly hug. “So, are you and Trudie going to the high school reunion coming up?”

  “I’m not sure yet. How about you?”

  He opened the door for her. “Maybe next year.”

  Lane stepped into the front room.

  “Good-bye, Ms. Abernathy.” Lily waved.

  Good-bye suddenly sounded so final. Lane gave her a little wave back. “See you soon.”

  Mason followed Lane outside and opened her car door for her.

  A gentleman always. “Thanks.”

  He put his hands on his hips. “See you later.”

  Lane started the engine as she watched Mason walk back inside. Such a fine man. Mason had great taste in everything but cars. She laughed to herself as her eyes blurred with tears. So many tears came that the whole world in front of her became hazy. She hoped soon, very soon, life would be clear again.

  She sat for a moment to regain her composure and to think about all that had transpired. How had it happened? She hadn’t searched for it—love had somehow found her. There’d been no logical pattern to it. Love seemed to be the one thing that could not be organized into neat little bins and shelved away in the closet. Love was random and unmanageable. It was as if her heart had set its own course, and her brain and body had just been along for the ride.

  And even as gentle as Mason had been, his words had been difficult to hear. There was no positive way to spin it, no self-talk to brighten the moment. Sometimes life was just hard. She clutched at her chest, aching with the loss, remembering that even Jesus wept.

  After the tears had done their cleansing, she slowly began to feel better. At least she felt no more despair. Lane pulled out of the parking lot, still contemplating the nuances of love. The idea of compatibility in marriage drifted in and out of her thoughts. Would she have been compatible with Mason? She was no longer sure. But when had she ever met a man who was perfect for her? Only one man had fit that description over the years. Hayden Montgomery.

  Lane glanced at her watch. Since she had a little more time before her morning appointment, she decided to stop by Trudie’s apartment. Lately she had been in the business of making some wrongs into some rights, and so the trend seemed to continue. She would tell Trudie about her little chat with Mason. Maybe it wasn’t too late for them. Maybe they could start right where they’d left off. That’s what she would hope for now.

  Lane parked and then freshened her makeup. After running up the walk she rang the bell. “Come on, Trudie, please be home.” Then she knocked.

  After a few seconds, her sister answered the door. “Lane? What a surprise.”

  “I have some news, Trudie.” Lane smiled. “News you’re going to like.”

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Hayden Montgomery shifted in his chair as the hairstylist finished dusting off the back of his neck. He looked in the mirror. Not bad. He handed the hairdresser a large tip and then rose from the chair. “Take care.”

  “You too, Mr. Montgomery.”

  He walked out of the shop feeling anxious, which was an emotion he wasn’t very familiar with, but the idea of going back to a high school reunion after so many years made his insides twitch. Like he’d eaten to
o many raw oysters. It wasn’t the reunion, though, that had made him buy new cowboy boots, go back to the gym, and get a haircut. It was the woman who’d been on his mind for months—Lane Abernathy. After more failed dating experiences than he could keep track of, he was ready for a certainty in his life. And Lane, his dearest Lane, was a woman who’d cared for him long before he’d come into money.

  Hayden slid into his Mercedes and started the engine, but instead of pulling out of the parking spot, he just sat there tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. Any time he looked back on his life with Lane, the reality of why they weren’t together always surfaced. It’d been a pathetic combination of his father’s influence along with the fact that he’d been a young and crazy fool. But no more nonsense and no more waiting. As they said in Texas, he would take the bull by the horns. Fortunately, an old high school buddy of his had been good enough to let him know that Lane was still single and that she’d probably be at the reunion. That was the best news he’d heard in a long time.

  Lane probably hadn’t given him one thought over the years, but something inside had spurred him on. He had to try, even if it meant rejection. But he would know soon enough what to expect. The reunion was only twenty-four hours away.

  He loosened his bolo and noticed his hands were shaking. He chuckled. Lane was the only woman on earth who could do that to him—make him tremble and smile all at the same time.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Trudie waved good-bye to Lane, shut the door, and then plopped down on a kitchen chair, dumbfounded. Lane had walked away from Mason. Forever. She’d given up the hope that Mason would ever fall in love with her. Trudie let the words gather round her. It was news she’d barely allowed herself to dream about—but any elation stopped cold when she remembered her sister’s eyes. Lane had tried to hide the puffiness with extra makeup and smiles, but she knew. Sisters just knew. Lane had been crying.