The world continued revolving around her while she was caught up in a sort of lull. The sun rose, the sun set, and in-between it shined gloriously. The sun, the tides, and the waves were the ticks of a living clock.
Ben commented on her restlessness. One day in mid-June, he pointed to an ad in the local paper and said, “Here you go, Juli. This is what you need.”
“Art instruction?”
“I should’ve thought of her sooner.”
“Her? Who?”
“Anna Barbour. Some of her work is displayed at the gallery. She’s very talented, a professional and someone you can rely on. Set it up on a week-to-week basis. See if you like it.”
Alarm hijacked her composure. It was okay to scribble and scratch on her own, but hiring an artist to give her lessons? This felt like a ‘show up or shut up’ moment.
Ben crossed the room. He punched the numbers into the cordless phone and held it out to her. “Press Talk, Juli. Go ahead and give it a shot.”
****
Juli pulled up in front of Anna Barbour’s sound side home, double-checking the address, looking for any reason that would allow her to leave while telling herself she’d tried—any excuse that would let her off the hook.
When they’d spoken on the phone, Anna’s voice was natural and friendly. Yes, she was interested in picking up another student, and no, it wasn’t inconvenient at all—come on over whenever.
Nothing stood in Juli’s way except herself.
She picked up her purse and exited the car. A flagstone walk lined with jonquils led to the front porch. She held her breath and pressed the doorbell.
Anna was tall and thin. Her hair was a graying blonde pulled back into a knot at the back of her head. There was something very basic about Anna, as if she could walk out the back door, pull on her dock shoes, grab her fishing pole and head out to the dock. Juli could see the dock through the large plate glass windows facing Bogue Sound. Lawn chairs, empty and inviting, sat at the far end overlooking the water.
“Come on in, Juli. I’m delighted to meet Ben’s wife. You’ve got yourself a sweetheart of a husband there, but I guess you already know that.”
Juli followed her in. “Yes, he’s great. He talked me into contacting you.”
“I’m glad he did.” She stopped and gave Juli a long look. “Maia told me about you.”
Juli didn’t know what to say. “All good, I hope.”
“Every word of it was marvelous. Maia said you were sweet and Luke said you were very attractive, so it’s nice you’ve got them in your corner.”
“In my corner?”
“It’s none of my business, but I’ve known Adela for many years. Be patient with her.”
Anna showed her the small paintings she produced for local galleries and also sold at hotels on the mainland. “Mostly acrylic. Some oil. The larger sketches on the walls are in a variety of medium—pencil, Conté crayon, and pen and ink.” She turned to Juli. “What medium have you worked with?”
It was a long, narrow room, and mostly windows, especially in the long exterior wall. It looked like an enclosed a back porch, but it was a big room, wide and long, to be used year-round. Easels, dinged and paint-spattered, were situated the length of the room, along the windows. What had been the backside of the house was unbroken but for the kitchen door and a kitchen window, and was hung from floor to ceiling with years of artwork.
“Is this all yours? I mean, did you do all of these?”
“This and more. Some are gifts from my students.”
Juli was hypnotized by the eclectic arrangement. No rhyme or rhythm. Any piece could be moved at any moment to accommodate another work of art. A living gallery, it was inelegant and— “organic. It’s organic.”
“What?”
“This wall of art.” Juli touched the empty nail holes. “It’s growing and changing.”
Anna laughed and nodded. “Yes. That’s the essence of creativity, isn’t it? I couldn’t have said it better. Now, how about a glass of tea or cup of coffee?”
“I don’t have any experience, not really.”
“Of course you do. You couldn’t go into rapture over my art wall if you didn’t feel it in yourself. You can’t tell me that feeling has never found expression.”
“Back in school I practically lived in the art classroom. Mostly pencil. Some acrylic. But it was so long ago I don’t think it counts.”
Anna gazed somewhere over Juli’s shoulder deep in thought, before she spoke. “We’ll start with pencil.”
She picked up several sheets of paper. “Take a look. I conduct several classes a week. I have a beginner class on Wednesday afternoons. The first page lists the classes. The rest are recommended supplies for each type of medium we study.”
“A class? With other students?”
“Or you can start with private lessons.”
Juli knew Anna could see her relief. Her cheeks grew hot. “Down the road a group might be okay.”
“I’m glad Ben found you. That you found each other.”
Juli was caught by surprise. Anna seemed so nice. So open. What did she know about the arrangement with Ben?
“I know I’m overstepping, but if I’m gonna step in big, I might as well go all the way.” She leaned toward Juli. “Honey, I’ve known the Bradshaw family forever and Luke for about as long. I don’t doubt your whirlwind courtship and marriage knocked ‘em silly at first, but they know as well as I do that Ben—that special angel of a man—hasn’t really been alive in many years. He never got over his first love, Miss Deborah Driver. They fell in love as kids. Everyone knew they’d end up together.”
“How did his wife die? He didn’t seem to want to talk about it.”
“It was fate. Or chance. Who knows? Deborah went to the mall at the same time a delusional man off his meds started shooting a gun at everyone he could see. She died there on the sidewalk, along with her unborn child.”
Anna continued, “Ben seemed to take it well. Too well. Everyone put it down to his faith which, make no mistake, helped him through it, but I don’t think he ever grieved properly. It grew up like a wall around him. Oh, he was open to the church and found comfort there, but when it came to his personal life and finding love, the joy of living died within him.”
They let the silence settle around them for a moment.
“When you’re ready for the group, you’ll know. You’ll discover there are all sorts of ways to learn.”
****
The next time Juli saw Frankie, she was coming out for an early morning walk. Frankie was half-hidden in the dark area around the base of the steps. She considered confronting him. She looked at her hands remembering how they’d trembled when she knocked on his door. Only a few weeks earlier, right? How quickly she’d lost her survivor’s edge. Her new role was intended to fit a softer Juli. Julianne, maybe. The girl she’d never been.
Juli stepped quietly back into the house.
She would have to ask Luke for help.
Maia and Juli had plans for lunch. When she got to the gallery, Maia was busy with a customer who looked like a serious buyer, so Juli signaled Maia to ignore her and strolled about, looking at the paintings on the walls. She found Anna’s small, vivid, inspiring sunrises and flaming sunsets. Framed in black, they were grouped like panes in a nine-light window.
Juli browsed along the wall until she reached Luke’s office, then stopped short of the open doorway. No noise, not even a rustle. Her heart thumped faster and her breathing quickened.
How could she consider asking Luke for anything? Especially something like this. She stepped back, away from the door.
Asking him for help would only confirm his bad opinion of her. She wasn’t afraid of Frankie for herself. She wanted to protect Ben.
Everyone was temporary in this life she was living now. Once Ben was gone, she’d move on and never see these people again. She stepped forward.
“Mind if I speak with you?”
He looked up. His expre
ssion hardly changed, but a barrier whooshed into place between them. It amused and annoyed her. What did he have to fear?
“What do you want?”
She tried to appear cool and composed, but her pulse thrummed in her neck. “I hope you’ll help me.”
Luke stood, motion tightly contained. “Come in.”
Juli pushed the door almost closed behind her, but not totally. She didn’t want full privacy, not with Luke. There was a chair near the front of his desk. When she sat, he sat.
She ignored pointless formality and spoke bluntly. “Remember the guy in the coatroom at the Hammonds’ house?”
“Yes.”
“He thinks my arrangement with Ben can benefit him in some way. He’s shown up around Ben’s house a couple of times.”
“Nice friend you have there. Perhaps he’s found his past associations with you to be profitable.”
Juli pushed back her resentment. “I can’t help it if he’s a worthless. I’ve told him to stay away, but he won’t. I don’t want to worry Ben.”
“Meaning you don’t want to tell Ben.”
“I recall you saying something similar. About not wanting to cause him unhappiness?”
“My motives are different.” His stare never broke from hers. Challenge lit amber sparks in his eyes. “What does he want?”
“I don’t know. He keeps insinuating I’m up to some scheme and he wants a piece of it.” Juli stood abruptly. “Go ahead and say it. You think I have a scheme going on, too.”
“I know Ben came up with the idea of you two getting together. What I think is that he didn’t understand what he was buying.”
“Buying? That’s not fair. It’s an arrangement that benefits both of us. I’m not bought, and we didn’t get together—we got married.”
“A business arrangement,” he insisted. “I can hardly blame you for taking advantage of his… offer, but at the same time, I’ll do what I can to prevent you from hurting him, or taking him for more than he’s agreed to give.”
Juli waved her hands. “Never mind. I can see this was a mistake.”
“Wait.”
He moved from behind the desk and came to her, stopping inches away. She dug in her mental heels and didn’t give ground.
“I’m waiting.” The words tasted bitter in her mouth.
“I’m being honest with you. I’d appreciate some honesty back.”
“That sounds great. Why don’t we start by you telling me why you think I’m a cheat and a fraud?”
He took a step back, crossed his arms, then uncrossed them and settled his hands on his hips. “Amanda Barlow left a ring in her coat at the party. When she returned home she remembered the jeweler’s box she’d put in her coat pocket earlier in the day. It was no longer there.”
“How unlikely is that?”
“Pardon?”
Juli laughed in disdain. “A woman puts a jeweler’s case with a valuable ring into her coat pocket and then forgets about it until she gets home from a party and happens to notice it’s no longer in her pocket? For you, it’s a foregone conclusion that the hired help stole it. Why am I not surprised? Sounds more like an insurance scam than a theft.”
“I saw your friend going through the coats.”
“What does that mean? He was probably straightening them. You know what? I don’t like being put into the position of defending Frankie, but nothing you’ve told me is any kind of evidence. And then there’s me. You also accused me of being a thief. What was that about? Guilt by association?”
“I saw you in there with him, also going through the coats.”
Juli had moved behind the chair and her fingers were nearly numb from clutching the back so tightly. To be condemned and treated like a thief on so little, on no more than assumption, made her so angry she felt lightheaded.
“I was getting my backpack so I could drive Ben home.”
They waited out a long moment of silence. Stalemate. Juli didn’t know what he was waiting for, but the next move was his.
Luke turned to face the window behind his desk. His shirt strained across his back as he crossed his arms again. He turned slowly around to face her. “What is it you think I can do to help?”
“Tell him you saw him.”
“But you said—”
She cut him off. “I know what I said. Tell him you saw him messing with the coats and that a ring was stolen. Tell him if he doesn’t stay away from Ben and Ben’s house, you’ll tell the police.”
He frowned and shook his head. “How could that help? Won’t he say if I had proof I’d have already called the police?”
“Maybe, but Frankie has history with the cops. If he thinks you, a respectable citizen, are going to put them back on his butt, he’ll probably decide it’s not worth the risk.”
“But he isn’t concerned about you turning him in?”
Juli didn’t mistake his implication. “Hardworking and respectable aren’t the same things. They won’t listen to me. What would I say? Somebody told me they saw something? Frankie’s not clever, but he’s not stupid either.” Juli was flat out of patience. “Look, I want him to go away until Ben is…until we no longer have to worry about Ben. After that, I’ll deal with him, probably by ignoring him. By then, it won’t matter.”
“Are you afraid Ben will cancel the deal you two made?”
She wanted to spit. “Let me know what you decide.” Juli paused in the doorway with her hand on the knob. “If you think talking to Frankie will help, and you’re willing to try, let me know. I’ll call you when he comes around again.”
“Give me his address. Maybe I’ll drop by.”
His words dashed her like cold water. This was what she wanted, wasn’t it? Juli went to his desk, grabbed a pen and scribbled the address of the apartment house on a sticky note. Luke left it lying there on his desk, conspicuously not touching it.
She wanted to discourage Frankie, but not for Luke to delve more closely into her life. Luke, going to where Frankie lived, to where she had so recently lived, made her uncomfortable. Frankie could say anything, true or not. Luke would be a receptive audience.
If that was the price Juli had to pay for his help, then so be it.
Frankie liked to fly low, below the radar, to avoid police attention. A few words from someone like Luke would keep him away.
Juli left his office without goodbye or thanks. Maia was nearby tidying a shelf. The customer had gone. Had Maia overheard them? Her plea for Luke’s help? His insulting remarks?
It was obvious Maia had heard enough to make her uncomfortable because her smile was without its dimples and her eyes looked dull.
“I’ve got to run, Maia. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Okay.” Maia averted her eyes. “Rain check?”
“Sure.” She walked past.
Maia called out, “Juli?”
Juli stopped. “Yes?”
“I’ll call you later this week?”
“Sure.” Juli left the gallery. Out the door and halfway down the steps, she turned back and saw Maia entering Luke’s office.
It saddened her, but Maia was as temporary in her life as the rest of them.
Chapter Twelve
“So, it’s clear you understand perspective.” Anna drew in the air, her fingers tracing imaginary lines meeting at a point. In this case, the point was the end of the dock as it stretched out into the sound. Juli had drawn her lines on sketch paper.
Anna put her thumbs together as if framing the real-life scene before them. “Where you have the dock beginning, where it crosses the shoreline, uses overlap to reinforce the perception of perspective, of having three dimensions.”
Today, the classroom was Anna’s backyard. About twenty feet from where the water met the shore, they’d spread an old cotton blanket on the ground and put the chairs on top of it. The blanket discouraged the insects in the grass from biting their ankles. The grass beneath it, made the blanket look fluffy.
“I remember those lessons from
middle school. We used rulers, though.”
“Well, it’s no good making the lines too perfect, unless maybe you’re drawing a machine. In the case of this dock, you want to show its personality, its vagaries.”
“You mean its flaws, like where it’s old and falling apart?”
“Yes, that’s exactly right.” She touched her face. “If you were to draw me, you’d catch the wrinkles and gray hair to give character and distinctiveness.”
Heat flooded Juli’s face. “I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. I meant the dock looked like it needed some work. I didn’t mean, well, I wasn’t talking about—you know, age.”
“No harm done. Age is a fact whether it’s docks or people.” Anna settled back into her lawn chair and stretched her long, narrow bare feet out in front of her. “Folks are funny. They search for beauty. They try to find it, make it if they can’t find it, and then try to preserve it to keep it. But perfection is boring.” She laid her head back against the metal frame of the chair. “Look at the Old Masters. Look at paintings that have withstood time and changing tastes. You’ll see ideas of beauty, but you won’t see perfection of features.”
Juli shifted the sketchbook on her knees and stared at the dock.
Anna waved in that direction. “Look at the individual boards. Notice how the nail heads are pounded in at varying angles and how the shape of the shadows around each are different. Forget for the moment that you’re sketching the dock and draw one of the boards.”
Juli dropped the pad of paper onto the blanket. She walked the few steps to where the dock began and knelt to look at the boards. She touched the weather-smoothed crevices and the worn edges at the cut ends of the planks.
“It’s almost a pattern.”
“It is definitely a pattern. A unique pattern because each piece of wood will weather according to its grain.”
Beach Rental Page 10
