At this her mother looked absolutely smug as she lifted her chin. “Maintenance supervisor, at your service,” she replied. “A cute little title Theo and I thought up. I’ve always wanted to be a supervisor.”
“In other words . . .”
“In other words, I do exactly what I’ve always done and nothing more. I keep your father in line.”
Skye stared at her mother, at this woman who was twenty steps ahead of her. “So . . . does Dad know?”
“He’s a proud man, Skye. He wouldn’t ask if he did. He prefers to pretend none of this is happening.” She shrugged. “So I pretend along with him.”
“And you guys have enough money. You don’t have to live here.”
Skye’s mother’s smile softened. “Honey, this is our home. My daughter lives in a beautiful cottage across the road. My husband walks to work. And these walls carry the millions of wonderful memories of where I raised our family. Why would I ever leave?”
With her mother softly turning back toward the old stove, Skye finally felt like she had nothing more to ask or say. So instead she looked. Looked at the breakfast table where she’d talked with her mom and eaten every meal before jumping on the school bus. At the china cabinet in the corner carrying all the knickknacks and centerpieces her mother used around the dining room table every holiday. At the couch and recliner where her dad sat in the evenings with her mother, read the paper, and watched TV.
Her mother wasn’t poor. She wasn’t scraping pennies from her coin purse because she had no other option.
She was just content. And had enough healthy self-awareness to live out her contentment.
And Theo? Theo wasn’t just the man who’d understood her mother, who’d kept her secret, who’d been there for her. He was the one who’d been saving her parents all along.
Chapter 15
Skye
Three weeks later
Skye strolled down the herringbone brick sidewalk of Abingdon, gift bag swinging from her fingertips, the giant blue bow knocking her knees. She took her time, feeling the warm early-May breeze seize her hair and lift it momentarily, leaving a tingle along the back of her neck. Pink pansies in two hanging baskets cheered up the black streetlamp outside Katbird’s Wine & Gourmet Shoppe, and her gaze drifted to the large windows and the display of cheese beside handcrafted Italian pottery. She stopped. Took a step toward the seafoam vase nestled beside crystal glasses. Her mother would love it.
She made a note to pop in on the way back from the shower and give it a closer look.
She walked past the Tavern, admiring the mossy slate roof. Another breeze swept her green silk jumpsuit softly across her skin. She slowed to read a couple lines on the plaque about its construction in 1779.
This was the third time she’d worn the jumpsuit in three weeks—the first with Theo, the second when she went to dinner with Luke and some of the old gang (where, sure enough, Luke had confirmed Theo’s lasagna-making expertise). She could’ve bought or chosen another outfit for his wife’s baby shower. But this was what she wanted to wear, she realized, as she looked through her closet this morning. And she was trying these days to practice doing the things she liked without regard for what anyone else might think. To be a bit more like her mother.
She walked past several more colonial-era buildings, taking in both the ancient architecture and the trees lining Main Street. Traffic went by, some tourists destined for the Barter Theatre with its flapping maroon and yellow flags, some citizens moving through town about their business. Skye lifted the Raven’s coffee cup to her lips, no quicker or slower than before.
The moment was worth lingering over.
Her steps slowed just before a four-way crossing as a sign came into view. A brown sign with bold script written across it: Theodore Watkins III, Financial Adviser.
She stopped. Looked up to the redbrick, colonial-style office building. Considered taking a step toward the door.
But like the rest of the windows, the six glass panes revealing the foyer inside were dark, the office void of life. Just as well. She’d do best apologizing when her schedule was clear.
She knew what she wanted to say, and it could take a while.
Another three blocks and Skye stopped at the Barter. Turned left into the grand entrance to the historic building across from it. Smiled politely to the two teenage valets of the Martha Washington Inn and descended the steps. Garden art and quiet porticos greeted her as she walked along the winding brick path leading to one of the Martha’s many entrances.
As she approached the door, she moved the baby shower gift to her left hand and opened the door with her right. She stepped onto the plush, olive-colored carpet and turned toward the spa, where Tracy, with stomach protruding, was finishing up a cut and color before her party started.
Skye stopped.
The baby rattle inside the gift bag jingled as it dropped to her feet.
Slowly, she took a step toward the first row of gilded paintings, her eyes wide. The waves crashed onto the sand of the Seattle coastline, the marine life beneath a seafoam green sea, the boulder and its crop of trees protruding just off the shore in the midst of the sea. She’d completed and sold this series years ago. Her finger traced her own signature along the bottom edge. The black plaque beside it with gold lettering announced: Display Only.
How?
She looked down the wall, counted. One, two, three, four, five.
At the end of the hall, Tracy turned the corner and grinned when she spotted Skye. “There you are! I just finished up. Ready to go?”
Skye drew up her finger at the largest painting, felt her mouth hanging open like that of a codfish. “How did these get here?”
Tracy raised a brow. “You didn’t know? I assumed you knew. Theo brought them in two weeks ago.”
“Theo?” Skye’s throat was drying fast. “But how? How did he have them—?” She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, finding the questions coming faster than she could process.
Tracy shrugged. “All I know is that I saw him in here meeting with the manager with one of your paintings one day, and the next they were replacing all the old displays with yours.”
Chapter 16
Theo
Theo rubbed his eyes, weary from hours of exposure to lamplight and computer screens. The office had long closed up for the day, and yet he sat, logging in the numbers on the Excel sheet in the still room.
The Barter ticket sat on his desk, unused, while outside the street was lined with the parallel-parked cars of Barter visitors. It was opening night for King Lear, but tonight, like every night the past three weeks, he had work to do. Things to prepare.
Unbelievably, Ashleigh had returned to him that evening three weeks prior. Turned her headlights around. Listened and braved a conversation about mending fences. And for a millisecond, he had considered it. But as he did he realized he couldn’t maintain a conversation about building their relationship while keeping one eye on the door, with one part of his heart hoping to hear Skye’s knock. He couldn’t do that to Ashleigh, who deserved much, much more. And despite his mistakes, he couldn’t do that to himself. He couldn’t let Skye go. Not again.
So he resolved then and there to do something about it.
To take that risk Skye needed.
Theo sighed and leaned back in his chair, back aching from the day’s load of sitting through meals and meetings and reports. His legs ached with the desire to move, to pedal, to run. Perhaps he’d actually go on a run tonight before packing the last box. He glanced out the window to the dark street.
A light flashed into his eyes and he blinked.
He frowned, looked out the window again.
A light blinked again, this time covering the whole of his window with its light. A moment later it ceased, then flicked on again.
Was that . . . ?
Theo pushed back his chair. Stood.
The light continued blinking on and off as he moved to the foyer, then turned the knob on the front
door. When he opened it, he was certain.
“Skye?”
Skye, standing on the brick sidewalk beneath the maple, clicked off the flashlight. Her hand fell to her side as he strode toward her.
She smiled slightly as he stepped onto the sidewalk.
He glanced down at the flashlight. “I hate to be cliché, but what are you doing here?”
“I, um . . .” Skye looked from his eyes to his jacket pocket and up again. “I wanted to apologize. I know everything about my dad and . . . I wanted to say I’m sorry. I thought you wouldn’t do anything like that and yet . . .” She shrugged. “I was wrong to think it. I was wrong about a few things. And for what it’s worth, I was wrong to expect you to take all the risks.” She took a step toward him. “And maybe you have a girlfriend now—”
“I don’t,” he interjected.
“And if you do,” she continued, though a smile was starting to rise, “I’m sure she’s lovely, but I didn’t want to let another day pass without taking a risk and telling you I know what I want.”
Theo’s eyes softened. The beating in his chest picked up its pace as he took another step forward. “And what is that?”
She blinked as he tentatively touched both of her elbows and took the final step. “Why, you. Of course.”
A moment passed in silence as he let her words wash over him. Words he’d craved to hear for years. Decades.
Skye blinked again. “Unless . . . ,” she began slowly, “you feel differently—”
But he was closing her lips with his, both hands on the tips of her elbows, gently pressing her to him. Time slowed as he slipped one hand to her shoulder, then cradled her neck as they stood there beneath the maple tree, the whispers of passing cars swirling around them.
He could live this moment forever.
As the world surrounding them came into focus again, Theo stepped back and gave his head a vehement shake. “Skye, you bested me again. I was going to woo you first.”
Skye laughed, cheeks flushed as she pulled a strand back behind her ear. “Calm down, Romeo. You win in the wooing. I saw my paintings up in the Martha this afternoon. What I don’t understand, though, is how you found them.”
He smiled and, keeping one hand on her elbow as though afraid to let go, turned them toward the office door. “They aren’t hard to find when they’ve been featured in your living room for a decade.”
Skye halted. Looked up to him as he locked the office door. “You’ve been hoarding my paintings here? In your house? You bought . . . that entire series?”
“No, I have the Spring of 2016 series in my house,” Theo said, smiling wistfully as he turned toward her. “What I had in the living room at the cabin, however, my new home, were those. Now, how do you feel about lifting a few of my moving boxes?”
Theo felt Skye stop. She turned to him. Her eyes were as large and round as he’d ever seen. Her voice was nearly a whisper. “Are you telling me you want to move to the cabin?”
His smile was his reply.
“But, but what about your work?”
“I’ll commute.” Theo shrugged. “An hour commute is hardly anything. Citizens of the cities are offended by people who drive under an hour and claim they commute.”
“And all the bugs? And snakes?”
“I plan on having to carry you out of a few shady situations, but I think you’ll be safe with me.”
“You’d do all that for me?” She glanced around. “You’d leave all this, for me?”
Theo’s eyes softened. “Skye, whether or not you showed up tonight, I was going to be your neighbor, rapping at your door with a morning cup of coffee, swinging by with the offer of soup every time I hear you’re sick, dropping off a card every Christmas, birthday, and holiday, until . . .”
“Until . . . ?” Skye said.
Theo smiled as he took her hand in his. “Why, of course, until you opened the door.”
Epilogue
One year later
“She’ll sell for ten thousand. Not a penny less!”
Skye picked up Luke’s booming voice over the hum of the crowd.
Swiftly she handed her mother the small flute of champagne. “Excuse me. I have to distract a man who keeps parading around as my agent before my agent actually gets here and kills him.”
Her mother and three of the visitors at Evergreen Gallery laughed lightly as they opened up the circle for her to depart into the crowd. As Skye slipped between the clusters of guests, her name popping up like iridescent bubbles by individuals merrily trying to get her attention, she couldn’t help smiling.
A packed room of family, friends, patrons, and curious visitors.
The crisp white walls were so freshly painted the smell of latex still hung in the air.
Floor-to-ceiling windows showed off the herringbone brick sidewalks of Abingdon and Evergreen Gallery in delicate green script on the outdoor signage.
Track lighting beamed neatly over each canvas, each one a new angle on the sparkling night sky.
Only one thing was missing. As she was just reaching Luke—who stood squarely in front of the largest canvas, a blue-eyed baby strapped to his broad chest as he haggled with an elderly woman dripping in pearls—she saw it.
Passing Luke, she moved to the open front door and stepped outside.
Directly across the street, Theo, just having turned the lock on his own office door, turned around. When he saw her, he stopped. Gave a little lopsided smile as he lifted one hand, the oversized scissors dangling from his fingers.
“Found the ribbon cutters!” he called out.
He dodged the oncoming traffic, jogged lightly across the street, and met her on the other side, eyes shining on the woman who’d turned from childhood best friend to lost love, to next-door neighbor, to wife, and now the latest: neighboring business owner and daily lunch date. And all it took was thirty-six years.
She took the scissors from his hand and reached on tiptoes for a kiss, her cheeks glowing like the soft pink rose petals on their wedding day. “Just in time.”
Dedication
To James. I love you.
Chapter 1
“I’ll be back in a minute. I’m going to pass out right now.”
Sophie Morgan chuckled, knowing full well her mother wasn’t serious. But she didn’t doubt Mom was surprised by Sophie’s announcement. She snipped the end of a rose stem and added it to the pink glazed vase on the table in front of her. “Very funny.”
“I’m telling you the truth. My heart just stopped from shock.”
Adjusting her earbud, Sophie rolled her eyes. “There’s no need to be dramatic, Mom. All I said is that I’m going on a date.” As soon as someone asks me out, that is.
“You can’t expect me to take this news lightly.” Her voice became muffled as she said, “Roger, our baby is finally getting married.”
“What?” Sophie dropped the pink carnation she’d just picked up. “I never said that, Mom.”
“Oh, but it will happen eventually. I’m sure of it.”
For a brief second, Sophie wished she were as confident as her mother. Then again, sometimes her mother’s confidence bordered on annoying, especially when she was being helpful.
“How’s life in Arizona?” she asked, eager to change the subject. Her parents had moved away from Maple Falls, Arkansas, ten years ago to Tempe to be closer to the daughter who had fulfilled their mother’s dream—Lis was not only married but also had two children.
“So, who’s the lucky man?” Mom asked, ignoring Sophie’s question. “Where did you meet him? How many times have you gone out?”
Sophie sighed, not surprised that her mother didn’t take the bait. The woman had a one-track mind. Fortunately Sophie’s two coworkers, Hayley and MacKenzie, were busy with customers up front and not back here to listen to what was turning out to be an embarrassing conversation. Then again, Sophie should have known not to call with such momentous news during work hours.
“Mother,” she said in th
e same tone an irritated parent would use when calling a child by their first and middle names. “I only said I was ready to date. Not that I had a date. Please don’t rush me.”
“Rush you? When have I ever rushed you? When have I ever pointed out that you’re thirty-six and it’s high time you have a social life—”
“Thirty-five,” Sophie corrected.
“Really? I thought you were thirty-six. You know how I am with dates and ages. Anyway, when have I ever put pressure on you to marry, er, date?”
Despite her mother’s insistence on being exasperating, Sophie couldn’t help but smile. She had spent the last decade devoting her time and money to Petals and Posies, the floral shop she bought after saving for it for years. Keeping the shop afloat had been a struggle since the town had been in a steady decline for a long time. But things were changing in Maple Falls. She was busier than ever, and now that she could afford to hire help, she could also afford to take some time off. Which meant she was finally ready to go on her first date since high school. Maybe now her mother would quit bugging her about her social life, or rather, her lack of one.
“Let’s just say you’ve been very insistent.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
Sophie could practically hear her mother rolling her eyes. “Mom, I need some space. Dating takes time. It’s not as if my future”—she almost said husband but caught herself—“date is going to walk into my shop in the next two hours.”
“Then you don’t have any prospects yet? That’s wonderful.”
“It is?”
“There are some lovely single men here at church. One of them is even a doctor.”
Sophie snickered at her mother’s reverent tone. “Ooh, a doctor. Let me book my ticket now.”
“You joke, but I’m serious.” Mom harrumphed. “It’s not like Maple Falls is teeming with single men your age.”
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