Unmasking Love: A Holiday for Romance

by Peggy Bird

  • • •

  Trace knew who it was. Only one phone call could be so important that she’d take it in the middle of her victory speech. When she came back into the house, she’d be the newest deputy district attorney for Multnomah County. Shit.

  In less than five minutes, she was back. Trace was surprised. It hadn’t taken her long to make the arrangements for returning to her old office. Although maybe she’d told Jeff What’s-his-name she’d call him back to work out the details. He could see from the huge smile on her face that she was happy about the new job. Happy about leaving Ashland. And him.

  “So,” he said, when she returned to him, “when’s he want his new deputy D.A. to start?” If there was a bandage to be ripped off, he was damn well going to do it himself.

  She looked surprised at the question. “End of the month, I think.”

  “He doesn’t give you very much time to get things wrapped up here. Maybe dinner and the theater this weekend isn’t such a good idea. You should probably start packing. I’ll help.” It killed him to do it, but if this is what she wanted, he had to support her.

  She'd picked up her glass of champagne and taken a sip. “You’ll help do what?”

  “Pack. Like I said.”

  “Why would I be packing?” A funny smile played across her face. He wasn’t quite sure what it meant. The smile and the comment confused him.

  “To move. To Portland. For your new job. The one you just accepted.”

  The smile became a grin. “I don’t even know if a job was about to be offered. Before he could say anything beyond hello, I told Jeff I’d thought long and hard about it and have decided to stay here.”

  “You decided to … why? I mean, you were so intent on making amends.”

  “I was. Until I realized I didn’t need to. I’ve found whatever redemption I need here. I’m happy in Ashland doing work that matters with people who matter to me.”

  “When did you decide all this?”

  “Tuesday evening. When I had dinner by myself and was congratulated by half the people in the restaurant for doing good work. I knew I was where I wanted to be.”

  “Tuesday? You decided three days ago? Exactly when were you going to tell me?”

  “Tonight, after the party, I was going to drop by and do it in person. And don’t look so offended. I haven’t seen you since Tuesday, have I?”

  “No, I guess you’re right. I’m not offended. Just surprised.” He touched her arm, wanting more than anything to hold her, but not sure she’d like such a blatant show of affection in front of all her clients. “This isn’t because you feel like I pressured you, is it?”

  “I’m not denying you’re a huge part of what makes me happy here. But you didn’t force me into the decision. Surely you know me well enough by now to know I’m not easily pushed. Even by you.”

  He gave into the urge to hold her by putting his arm around her shoulders, then bent his head and whispered for her only, “Except when I make you pray.”

  “Make me pray?”

  He whispered even lower. “Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.”

  She laughed, raised an eyebrow, then whispered back, “Suddenly I have this overwhelming urge to contemplate the divine. Any chance for a demonstration of your skill in helping me?”

  “When the party’s over, you’re on.” He kissed her forehead and smiled. “I love you, Juliet.”

  “And I love you, Romeo.”

  “Shakespeare couldn’t have said it any better, beautiful.”

  More from This Author

  (From Sparked by Love by Peggy Bird)

  Leo Wilson finished fire-polishing his latest glass vessel, maneuvered it out of the heat, and with the help of his studio mate, Giles Kaye, put it into an annealing oven. After the piece had been slowly brought down to room temperature, he’d inspect it and call the collector who’d commissioned the piece to come pick it up. If everything worked out, the sale would give him enough money to squeak through another month.

  Leo didn’t miss the scenes his ex-roommate/ex-girlfriend had thrown on a regular basis when she was working her way out of their relationship. In fact, he didn’t miss much about their relationship at all. He did miss having someone to share expenses with, however. The financial pressure he’d been under for the past year or so was getting old. It was obvious he had to sell more art pieces, teach more classes, find a roommate, or take a part-time job. He wasn’t sure which would present a bigger challenge—finding buyers for his work and students for his classes or finding a compatible roomie. A part-time job was possible, but that would give him less time to do his art, which meant fewer pieces to sell. But he was going to have to suck it up and pick one. Soon.

  He was closing the door on the oven when Amanda St. Clair, the studio owner, called from her office. “Leo, when you have a chance, there’s something here for you from the City of Vancouver.”

  She handed him a business-size envelope with City Hall, Vancouver, Washington as the return address when he got to her desk. “Another parking ticket?” she said. “Your visits to your buddies across the river are getting expensive.”

  “Luckily Vancouver’s fines are a hell of a lot cheaper than Portland’s. But I swear I paid the last one. And I haven’t been at Firehouse Glass for a couple months.” He tapped the envelope on the palm of his hand. “Besides, how did they find me here? Before, the reminders came to my house. From DMV records they got from my license plate.”

  “You’ll never find out what the letter says by osmosis. You have to read it,” Amanda said, handing him the plastic gadget she used to slice open envelopes. “And this works better than staring at it and hoping it’ll pop out all by itself.”

  He ripped through the top of the envelope and read the enclosed letter. “Oh. My. God.” Leo could barely breathe. “Oh. My. God,” he repeated. “I don’t fucking believe this.”

  “What? What?” Amanda asked.

  “Read this and tell me if I’m hallucinating.” He shoved the letter across the desk at her.

  She scanned it then looked up, a huge smile on her face. “Oh, my God, is right, Leo! You got the commission.” She yelled, “Giles, come here. Quick.”

  Giles stuck his head into the office. “What’s going on? Did one of you win the lottery or something?”

  “Close,” Amanda said, handing him the letter. “Look, Leo landed the grant from Vancouver.”

  “The $75,000 one?”

  “The very one.”

  Although Leo hadn’t taken his eyes off the letter Giles had returned to the desk, he didn’t need to see her to hear the pride in Amanda’s voice. His mother wouldn’t sound any prouder at the news.

  “Congratulations, Leo,” Giles said. “This is great.” He clapped his colleague on the back but Leo didn’t respond. “Hey, did we lose you? Are you still on this planet?”

  “Not sure,” Leo croaked then cleared his throat. “I never thought this would happen.” He picked up the letter, re-reading it, still not sure he believed the words. “This was such a long shot. I figured my idea was too out there. But, look, they said … ah … where is it?” He ran his finger down the letter to the sentence he was looking for. “Here it is. ‘Your design is bold, creative, and in the spirit of the region’s arts as well as our annual celebration of Independence Day.’”

  He didn’t know which to be happy about first—having his art respected or having the financial picture he’d just been worrying about dramatically improved. For the moment, he decided to go with enjoying this chance to exhibit his art—he’d celebrate the money when he saw the first check.

  “I’m going to have an art installation millions of people will see,” he said.

  “The number’s more like tens of thousands,” Giles said, “but for sure you’ll get attention from the media. They always cover the fireworks at Fort Vancouver like a blanket. Biggest news story every Fourth of July.”

  “Don’t rain on my parade, Giles. I’ve never landed anything like this before
, and if I want to think there will be millions of people there, let me,” Leo said.

  “Well, there’ll be a hell of a traffic jam on the I-5 Bridge if you’re right. But you’ll need more than congratulations to make this happen. If I recall the proposal, it’s pretty complicated. What can I do to help you?”

  “Yes, Leo, what do you need from the studio and from us?” Amanda asked.

  “Give me a chance to absorb the news and we’ll talk,” he responded.

  Leo made a quick phone call to the Clark County Arts Commission chair, whose name was on the letter, to officially accept the commission and make arrangements for all the paperwork he needed to fill out. Then he took his studio mates up on their offer to strategize. The three artists spent most of the morning planning how to get Leo’s project accomplished. Specifically, how much could be done at the GlassCo studio and how much would have to be done in Vancouver, with his buddies at Firehouse Glass.

  It was, as Giles had said, a complicated endeavor. Leo had proposed a large art installation on the grounds of the Historic Reserve where each year, the city of Vancouver, Washington, sponsored a huge party to celebrate the Fourth of July. There was music, art, and entertainment, food vendors and space to stroll around the grounds of an old army fort, now managed by the city. After dark, what was billed as the largest pyrotechnic display west of the Mississippi lit up the night sky. The fireworks could be heard, if not seen, all over the city as well as from the boats on the Columbia River and many parts of Portland, Oregon, which was right across the river from Vancouver.

  The display had inspired Leo’s proposal. Instead of a static, in-one-place exhibit of glass, he designed large and small glass fireworks to be installed in the trees and structures around the former parade grounds of the base where the crowds picnicked while they waited for the after-dark fireworks display.

  Each burst would be made of slender tubes of glass in various sizes, shapes, and colors and would require careful installation to connect the pieces in the correct manner and secure them into place. Floodlit from below, Leo’s fireworks would “go off” all evening as a computer controlling the lights would turn them off and on to simulate the moment when the shells burst into spectacular designs in the sky.

  The project was large. It was complicated. It was expensive. And it was what Leo hoped would get his work the attention he’d been struggling for his whole career.

  All he had to do was get a couple permits from the City of Vancouver, and he would be on his way. How hard could it be to get a couple of permits?

  • • •

  Three months later, Leo was at Firehouse Glass in Vancouver where he was creating some of the pieces for the display. The only official paper he had from the City of Vancouver were more parking tickets from his hours of working with his glass blower friends and forgetting to plug the meter.

  Today they’d gotten the last of the pieces for one of the smaller fireworks completed and had spent the time they were working sympathizing with Leo about his difficulty getting the appropriate permissions.

  “I mean, it’s not like I’m misting the crowds with toxic waste, or endangering salmon or something. All I want to do is put up an art installation,” he griped as he brought a gather of glass out of the glory hole. His attention was diverted to the job at hand for the next bit of time, but when the piece was shaped and in the kiln, he returned to his venting about the city.

  “Have you guys had trouble with them about permits and things?” he asked.

  Frank Steward, a longtime friend and colleague, shook his head. “No, but then we’ve never done anything more complex than be part of a team putting up a piece of public art in a city park. It’s more complicated in the Reserve. Part of the property is managed by the city and there’s National Park land involved in the visitor center and down near the recreated old fort. And there’s a trust involved somehow, but I’m not sure how. It’s kind of a special deal.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe if I’d known how difficult it would be to get the damn permits, I’d have thought twice about submitting my proposal,” Leo said. “This woman who works for the city, this Shannon Morgan, is driving me nuts. She’s supposed to be helping me get this done, but she puts up hurdles to keep me from accomplishing anything faster than I can jump over them. Everything I propose gets one of two responses: “no” or “not possible.” They’re the only words she knows. So far, she’s turned down my request for some help from the city to install the glass, refused to get me a permit for the lighting, isn’t sure if I can have access to the site early in the week before the Fourth to get the pieces up, and she’s wavering about letting me use some of the sites I picked out but won’t tell me why. She’s a pain in the butt.”

  “Have you talked to her?”

  “Of course I’ve talked to her. At least weekly for three months.” Leo was indignant Frank would think he hadn’t pursued this vigorously.

  “I know you’ve communicated with her. I meant have you talked to her. You know, used your legendary skills with women to persuade her. Up close and in person.” His buddy leered at him.

  “Yeah, right. Legendary skills. You mean the ones getting rusty from lack of use since Cathy bailed on me?” Leo pursed his mouth and frowned. “But you might have hit on something. If I can’t convince her with logic on the phone and in email, maybe I can dazzle her with bullshit in person. I’ve always had luck impressing the mothers of the women I date so maybe … ”

  “How do you know she’s your mother’s age?”

  “I don’t know for sure. But she fusses at what I want to do and tries to tell me what I can’t do like my mom does. I mean, I already have one mother, and I love her. If I need a lecture, I can call her. I don’t need a city employee filling in for her.”

  “Make an appointment with this Shannon Morgan. Show her what you’re doing. Buy her lunch or something. Butter her up. Maybe you can soften her crustiness.”

  Leo thought about his friend’s suggestion for a minute. “You’re right. I need to see this woman in person to size her up. But no appointment. I want the element of surprise on my side. I’ll go over to city hall right now. I have the design specs in the truck. I’ve got images on my phone of some of my other installations. I’ll show her what I’m doing and see if it makes a difference.”

  For more great novels from Peggy Bird, check out her Second Chances series:

  Beginning Again

  Praise for Beginning Again:

  “Both Liz and Collins are great characters. Liz is not a bitter middle aged woman, but instead a very strong and brave lady. I really enjoyed Beginning Again because it was an easy read that made my gray autumn day a little bit less gray.” —Long & Short Reviews

  Loving Again

  Together Again

  Praise for Together Again:

  “…a very enjoyable romance. I loved the main characters and the great writing. I always admire strong, independent women, so if you also enjoy those qualities in a heroine, and enjoy a well-written romance, I recommend this one.” —Night Owl Reviews

  Trusting Again

  Praise for Trusting Again:

  "The book moves along at a nice pace and the characters are believable and realistic. It is a well-written story with a wonderful ending!” —Harlequin Junkie

  Believing Again

  Falling Again

  In the mood for more Crimson Romance?

  Check out Forgiving Jackson by Alicia Hunter Pace at CrimsonRomance.com.

  We hope you enjoyed reading this Simon & Schuster ebook.

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