Once they were seated, he leaned forward and looked her in the eye. “What did I say?”
Faith's expression was blank. “What do you mean?”
“I asked about Merle's business and you went all quiet.”
She picked up her menu and peered at it before meeting his eyes. “Maybe we should get this out in the open now.” Setting down the menu, she lifted her chin. “I want a straight answer, Shane. Are you checking up on me? Seeing if I'm somehow taking advantage of your uncle?”
Shane sat back, shocked. “Of course not. Why would I?”
Faith didn't look convinced. “You're the long lost nephew come to town. I'm the one who doesn't belong in the picture.”
“Okay, we just took a wrong turn here.” A waitressed approached but he asked for a few more minutes. “Faith,” he said, lowering his voice, “whatever arrangement you have with Merle is none of my business. I was just making conversation.”
Her steady look told him she wasn't convinced. He raised his brows in a gesture of appeal. “Believe me, please.”
Toying with her menu, she looked away for several moments. When she turned back to him, he sensed vulnerability in her eyes. “So, what is this?”
Shane lifted his shoulders. “Lunch?”
“Why?”
He sent her a quizzical look. “Is it the outside of the norm to be asked to lunch because someone wants to get to know you?”
“I just wonder why it's you of all people. Did Merle put you up to this?”
What answer would satisfy her? Mentioning Merle's hopes probably wouldn't help. Then again informing her of his deepening interest in her probably wouldn't either. “Faith, I asked you to lunch because I want to get to know you. No intrigue.”
She sighed, her expression lightening a bit. “No intrigue? How disappointing.”
Shane released a silent breath, glad he was once again on even ground. He hoped it lasted longer than a heartbeat this time. “Do you know what you want?”
Her eyes held a slight glimmer. “Esoterically or for lunch?”
He laughed softly. “Let's start with food and move on from there.”
“Okay.”
After ordering sandwiches and iced tea, Shane wondered how to ask her about herself without sounding nosy. “So tell me everything about yourself.” Oops.
She sent him a noncommittal smile. “You already know the gist.”
“Then tell me what you did after high school, how you came to John Day from the valley.”
He discerned a stiffening of her shoulders. “I worked at a restaurant and met Merle when he was visiting town. He liked a photograph I took and hired me for a temporary summer project,” resting her arms on the table, apparently composed. “In the valley it's beautiful and lush, but I fell in love with mountains and sunsets in eastern Oregon. I've been here ever since. And working for Merle has allowed me to explore the back country as much as I want.”
Shane regarded her for a moment. Why did he think there was more she wasn't telling him? Then again, he had no right to pry. But her constant hesitation and the measuring of her words only made him more curious.
The waitress brought their sandwiches and iced tea. Shane offered a prayer of thanks and they dug in. Faith seemed grateful her sandwich prevented her from speaking.
“The food is good here,” he said after swallowing a bite.
She nodded.
Shane allowed her a few more minutes of reprieve. “So, tell me about this photograph that got Merle's attention.”
Faith dabbed her mouth with her napkin. “It's of mine and my sister's knees.”
He stared blankly at her for a moment, then remembered something he'd seen. “The photograph in Merle's office?”
She nodded, a slight smile lighting up her careful features. “The way our knees are posed in the photo mimic the placement of three mountain peaks in Sisters, Oregon.”
“I've heard of the Three Sisters Mountains.” He sat back in his chair. “The peaks are traditionally named Faith, Hope, and Charity. Let me guess, your sisters—”
“Hope and Charity, yep. My mother seemed to think it was pret-ty clever.”
“The photograph is extremely clever. And I missed the significance. I just thought it was a picture of three pairs of banged-up, bandaged adolescent knees.”
“Yeah, we were pretty rough and tumble back in the day. We lay on our backs for the photo and the camera was set up on the sidewalk. I timed it, hoping to get a bit of the sun going behind our kneecaps, like a sunset.”
“That's exactly what it looks like now that I think of it.”
“If you compare it side by side with a particular angle of the mountains, it's spot on.”
He shook his head. “That is such a cool idea.”
She snorted softly. “It took an entire roll of film to get that one shot. Imagine me and a set of wiggly twin sisters who thought I was bossy, and a self-timer set on an old Kodak camera I picked up in a thrift store.”
He grinned. “I can easily imagine it. The story is almost as good as the picture. Since you didn't use a digital camera, I'm guessing the color tones aren't a retro afterthought.”
“Nope. It was taken a late summer afternoon and I overexposed the film a little.”
Shane decided to buy a print, assuming Faith would sell him one. “I can easily see why Merle not only hired you but kept you on. Did you take photography in school?”
Again a slight fading of the color in her cheeks. “No. No time. Unless you count the school of hard knocks.”
He laughed. “Yeah, I went there too.” He took a sip of his tea. “You might consider picking up some courses to...keep up with the latest developments in digital editing.”
“Great idea,” she said, then took another bite of her sandwich.
Somehow Shane knew this portion of the conversation was over.
After a moment, she spoke up. “So did you go to college right after high school?”
“No, I waited a few years, which also means I've actually only been in the field for four years.”
“Ah.”
He grinned, sensing the direction she was taking. “It's very fortunate that I've met someone with so much back country experience to guide me.”
Faith's face relaxed in a slow smile. “Exactly.”
“It'd be almost criminal to let me wander the hills and valleys alone, beset upon by large game. Think of your guilt if something happened.”
She swept his form with a quick look. “You seem able to handle yourself in the Great Outdoors.”
“True of course, but at the same time I need all the help I can get.”
A wry look was her response, but compared to some of the other expressions he'd been on the end of, it was fine by him.
The rest of the lunch passed without the feeling of having to dodge land mines. He couldn't wait to see her again. Shane watched color bloom in her cheeks as she became more relaxed.
Maybe he wouldn't have to wait long.
***
“Do you want to see my place?”
Faith stopped after following Shane out the door of the restaurant, once again taken off guard by him. “Huh?”
He smiled. “I mean, I could use some help choosing a wall color and that sort of thing for my new house. And I could show you my portfolio.”
It took an effort not to let her mixed feelings show. But he was her boss's nephew and he was trying to be friendly. She could at least return the favor. Looking on her past actions, she realized she'd been as prickly as a hedgehog cactus. He'd made it clear he wasn't after her job, and she didn't believe he was a liar. Maybe it was time to be less suspicious and more welcoming of the man. Shane was simply a nice guy and she'd been so blinded by worry of her job statu
s that she'd treated him without the basic respect he deserved.
“Sure. That'd be great.”
His smile was like the sun peeking past a cloud. She followed him to his Jeep with an unfamiliar feeling of anticipation.
Faith watched him out of the corner of her eye, listening to his banter on the way to his home. At his easy going manner, she realized she'd been all wound up for nothing. Shane wasn't a monster or a threat. In fact—she could even admit—she was attracted to him. Really attracted if she was brutally honest. Not that it mattered, it was just an observation. In a way, he reminded her of a cougar. She could appreciate its appeal while at the same time treating it with respect because it could be deadly.
She smothered a smile. Shane might annoy her to death with general cheerfulness at worst. Plus, he was rather fond of asking a lot of questions. Well, she was good at avoiding them, so no problem there. And he didn't want her job. Why would he? He already had one that paid better. She could've saved herself a lot of angst had she thought that one though a little more.
Photography was his hobby. It was her livelihood. She was more motivated. And that motivation would keep her on her toes, getting the most dramatic shots for Bascombe Productions. Shane just wanted to talk shop—one enthusiast with another like he'd said. No biggie.
Right?
They stopped in front of a small house in a neighborhood with a scattering of homes visible from between fir trees. Plastic toys and bicycles littered the yards of a few of the houses in the vicinity. Somehow she imagined Shane living in a remote cabin made with logs and brawn. Or something.
“I'm renting for now,” he said as he slid from the truck. “But I might end up buying. I like this area. There's elbow room but there are also neighbors.”
Faith sent him a sidelong glance. “I thought you wanted to be a lone ranger or something.”
“I'm already alone most days. It got old pretty fast.”
She nodded in acknowledgment out of politeness, then turned her attention to his small Craftsman style home. As they headed up the steps, she saw it needed some TLC. Peeling paint, bent gutters and a cracked front window. When they went inside she saw immediate potential. Scarred but beautiful fir floors and woodwork highlighted the small but cozy rooms. A leather couch with a matching chair and ottoman filled the living room. The walls—a bland beige color—were void of décor.
Off to the left, she could see into the kitchen. Once again the color 'bland' reigned supreme from the wall to the countertops to the Linoleum floors. Several boxes sat stacked on the floor next to the cabinets. A package of paper plates and a small tower of Styrofoam cups apparently made up his dishware. It wasn't too far below the set of nondescript dishes she used in her own house. Ideas of interior décor cascaded through her mind which confused her as she hadn't had as much inspiration for her own place. Maybe because she knew hers was just a rental. Shane was planning a purchase.
“Your house is great,” she said, and meant it.
Shane put his hands on his hips and surveyed the living room from the hall. “It needs painting inside and out.” He looked her way. “Any ideas on color?”
Faith made a face, striving to squelch several unbidden suggestions. “I'm not an interior decorator. Just pick something you like.”
He raised his brows and laughed softly. “And here I thought you'd immediately have an opinion.”
“It's your house, Shane.”
He put up his hands. “All right, all right. But if inspiration strikes, let me know. I just can't think what would look best, and trust me, with all the woodwork that will have to be masked first, I only want to paint it once.”
She cleared her throat, remembering the real reason for her visit. “You mentioned your portfolio?”
His smile deepened. “You're all business, Faith.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
He gave a small shrug, amusement sparking in his eyes. “You could try socializing a little, schmoozing, rubbing elbows with the locals.”
“I'm the local.”
He grinned.
Faith remembered her plan to be friendly, so she tried humor. “I usually only socialize when it could pay off, business-wise.”
Shane shook his head and waved her to the dining room.
The space was separated from the living room by a smaller opening. One end of the room had a large glassed built-in buffet. It was stacked with boxes, as was the large oak table in the middle of the room.
Shane opened the buffet door and pulled out a case. He unzipped it and laid it on the table, then opened the portfolio to the first page. Faith's light mood evaporated like mist in the morning. As he began to explain each photograph in detail, her newfound confidence slid right down to her shoes.
Image after beautiful image met her eyes. He was good. So much better than she that it made her head ache with the ramifications. As her heart pounded out an anxious rhythm, she scrutinized the photos, trying to discern his secret. But she couldn't blame Photoshop or a superior camera. Shane simply had an eye for it. And a way of taking ordinary things out of the norm, of placing them in unexpected, artistic contexts.
An insect on tree bark. The sun peeking past a blue spruce tree. A bird in the snow. Each skewed and fresh. Each image an amazing work of art.
“Of course I have a digital portfolio,” he said, “but sometimes old school is better.”
Faith looked up at him, barely registering his proximity. “These are incredible, Shane. How is it you don't work for National Geographic?”
He smiled, his brown eyes warm. “Thank you, Faith. That means a lot.”
She returned her attention to the images. “Have you shown this to Merle?”
“Not yet. When he comes for a visit, I'll probably let him have a peek.”
“I...I think he'd really be impressed.” She looked up at him. “I'm even sure he'd want to contract projects out to you if not hire you directly—”
“Whoa,” Shane said, putting up his hand. “Like I said, I already have a job. And these images...they're the cream of the crop from thousands of photographs I've taken over the last decade. If I had to come up with something to earn my keep, I wouldn't be able to take the kind of time it took to get these shots.” He surveyed his work. “I like to study my subject first, consider the hidden qualities. Then I like to see if I can draw those qualities out, either by the use of lighting or setting. The result is often unexpected.”
Faith stared up at him, wishing she could understand how to apply that to her own work. What was the missing element that could take her to the next level? How was it someone who didn't need to make it work could put her and a lot of other people in the shade?
He returned her gaze for a moment. “Because of my technique, I could never make it pay. I'm just too slow.”
“Still,” she said, her throat clogging with dread, “you shouldn't hide these away. Enter them into competition or something.”
He stared down at a tight shot of a spider in a web, a broken down barn in the blurred distance. “I don't know. Photography for me is an indulgence. I do what I want the way I want, without scrutiny. Everything else in life is judged, whether it's a job, behavior, or even the way someone keeps their yard. If I were to enter these pictures, people would find some reason to tear them apart and that misses the point entirely.”
Faith frowned. “That doesn't make any sense. Are you saying you're afraid of having them criticized? Trust me, you have nothing to worry about.”
“Not afraid,” he said turning fully towards her. “Maybe protective is a better word. They're something special, just for for me.”
“Huh,” she said, unconvinced.
His circumspect expression transformed into a rueful smile. “It might difficult to understand by someon
e as competitive as yourself.”
Faith swallowed. It was on the tip of her tongue to say she was competitive because she had bills to pay, but she remained silent. She needed to put some time and space between herself and what seemed unattainable—and figure out how not to let it affect how she treated Shane.
Her gaze skirted his as she looked past him toward the rest of the house. “You were, uh, saying something about needing help choosing paint colors?”
It was a lame reprieve, but she needed anything she could get at the moment.
***
By the time Shane returned her to the church parking lot where she could get her car, Faith had a lot to think about.
One. Shane was an amazing photographer who inexplicably, insanely, wanted to remain obscure.
Two. She would cheerfully kill to achieve his level of expertise.
Three. Once Merle saw the photos, it was all she wrote, regardless of Shane's assertions to the contrary. She couldn't in good conscience (cheerful killing aside) remain an inferior employee when a family member had mad skillz that kicked her amateur hiney.
Four. Shane—with his charming, self-effacing personality, rugged good looks, and adorable nesting impulses—was a nigh perfect specimen of a man. So she might as well forget the warm fuzzies she had while pouring over paint samples and laughing at his silly jokes. Perfect men had a tendency to want a perfect woman—not stray refugey kinds of girls without a high school diploma. Not that she was thinking of Shane for herself, of course, but if she was...
Faith felt her shoulders slump as she drove home. Inside her house, she looked around as if seeing it for the first time. Aside from her cluttered work desk, she could've been staying in a vacation rental. She hadn't hung any of her own pictures or decorations—everything was impersonal and nondescript. But at the time she hadn't known how long she'd be staying. Now, Shane was in town for a few weeks and he was already planning to buy. He was picking paint colors.
Faith rubbed her forehead. But he could afford to indulge a sense of permanence. She might lose her job tomorrow—especially if Merle saw what Shane kept tucked away in that golden portfolio of his. If she didn't feel so huffy, she just might want to cry.
Rock and A Hard Place (Cascade Brides Series) Page 6
