Fade to Blue

by Julie Carobini

  I could not contain a squeal.

  Letty’s bewildered voice cut into our conversation. “Suz is going back to the castle?”

  Fred nodded. “That’s right. I would like her to tour the upper floor like a student.” He turned to face me. “Take your time. Take notes. Bring your questions back to me, if you have any. Every artist should take the opportunity to admire another artist’s work. I think you’ll find that it adds toward the strengthening of one’s own gifts.”

  My gaze swished back and forth between Fred and the door project before settling on Letty, who watched me from the far end of the table. “I promise to pick up where I left off right away tomorrow morning. Look.” I pointed at the undulating carving I’d been cleaning for hours. “Nearly every bit of flaking paint has been removed. You could eat off it, it’s so clean.”

  She offered only a limp shrug before turning back to the project.

  I hesitated, then reached for my purse as Fred continued with instructions. “The university van will pick you up outside, and it will bring you back here to retrieve your car later.”

  I smiled. “Thank you, Fred. I can’t wait.”

  As I walked past Letty, I paused, hoping to catch her eye. “Hope you don’t mind me leaving you to work alone.”

  She didn’t look up. “Enjoy the upper floors of Casa Grande.” I nodded my thanks and moved to the exit, almost sure I heard her add, “I never have.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Letty’s whispered comment that she’d never toured the second story of the castle niggled at me. So when I stood in front of the studio, listening to giggles volleying through the university van as the driver hopped out and stepped over to the passenger side, I worked to rustle up a smile of my own.

  I needn’t have bothered. All laughing stopped when the van side door flung open. The students exchanged glances, but no one made eye contact with me. I felt like a field trip crasher.

  The driver held out his arm. “Be sure to duck.”

  An open seat waited for me in between two students in the last row. Oh, joy. I stumbled to the back of the fifteen-passenger van, trying not to step on too many pedicured toes while offering apologies along the way.

  The van started back down the hill to the ribbon of coastal highway that would take us north to the castle. Before entering the highway, though, a truck pulled up beside us and the van came to a stop. We all watched as the passenger door of the truck opened and a man in jeans and a denim shirt climbed out and approached the van.

  It was Seth.

  A wispy blonde in front of me cheered. The girl with curly dark hair next to her spoke in a hushed voice. “Maybe this won’t be a snooze fest after all.”

  Seth took the empty passenger seat in our van, then shook hands with the driver. If only I could have transformed into a snake and slithered to the floorboards. He turned to acknowledge the students sitting behind him, but I could tell that his sight reached only to the first row. After that, he faced forward and settled into his seat.

  The student next to me with bug eyes and blunt-cut hair leaned over me to talk to the girl on my other side. “He’s hot.”

  The girl responded with a vigorous nod. “Wonder if he’ll be our tour guide.”

  “I doubt it.” The words blurted out before I thought them through.

  The girl who had wondered aloud whipped her chin to face me. “Oh. Sorry.” Her sudden giggle sounded nervous. “You must be our guide. Sorry I didn’t realize.”

  I shook my head. “No, I’m not the guide. Just a student like all of you.”

  “Oh, so who do you think he is, then?” She craned her neck to get a better look. “He’s got nice hair.”

  “I’ll say.” The student on my right concurred.

  Heat filled my cheeks. Any time now Seth might turn around and spot me here among the teenagers, hiding like a coward. I’ve never found sitting in close quarters among strangers comfortable. Calling his name from the back of the bus wasn’t an attractive option. Yet if I didn’t say anything at all and he noticed me later, he’d probably think I was spying.

  I glanced out the window, wishing for magic skills, particularly the one that could make me disappear. How could I have known that Seth would be joining a bunch of college students on a road trip to the Hearst Castle?

  That’s the thing. I didn’t know. So no good reason to hide from him existed. Right? I pulled my gaze from the window and steeled myself, ready to swallow my embarrassment and offer my old friend a “Yoo-hoo.”

  Before I could, though, Seth already turned toward the back of the van, his attention held by a willowy redhead in an ice-blue lab coat. While the rest of the ladies fell into conversations peppered with surges of college-aged bravado, the redhead continued to chat with Seth. She leaned one hand on the passenger seat and her fingers nearly grazed his cheek. Her chin tilted toward him, and she spoke in tones low enough for only those two to hear. Our van driver began the five-mile journey up the winding hill that would take us to the castle and Pretty Redhead did not stop talking. Not once.

  My gaze slid over the heads of several students as I watched him responding to her. Often, he nodded. Occasionally, he cracked a smile. I couldn’t tell if the connection forming was something Holly needed to worry about, or if Seth had learned the art of staying still and listening.

  Although Seth never talked much when we were younger, he expressed his enthusiasm for life with his ideas. Lots and lots of “let’s do it now” ideas. When I think about those days now, I picture myself as a passenger of a race car on the speedway. I’m the one hanging on to the overhead bar and calling for Jesus’s intervention. Seth was, of course, at the wheel.

  Those ideas of his often carried an impulsive quality. Once after dropping off his cousin at the airport, he took my hand and dragged me over to the flight board.

  “Pick a number.”

  “Why?”

  “Just do it. C’mon, hurry.”

  “All right, um . . . six.”

  He stepped closer to the board and counted down the list until he hit the magic number six. “Athens, Georgia.” He reached an arm around my shoulders and cinched me closer. “That’ll do. Let’s go.”

  “Where?”

  He let his arm drop and faced me. “To the city that gave the world the B-52s. C’mon, Suz. Flight’s leaving in forty-five minutes.”

  I laughed and gave him a teasing push. “You’re crazy. I don’t even have a hairbrush.”

  I recalled a wistful expression on his face when he smoothed my long hair with his fingers. “Aw, you look beautiful.”

  His spontaneity attracted me, a girl who had never stepped outside of her hometown except to visit Mother’s sister in Virginia once a year. That is, until my mother’s illness pulled me into the reality of death as a part of life. Since then, spontaneous trips to anywhere no longer held their appeal.

  A hush quieted the students as our van creaked and whined to our destination. Through the windows I noted trees bursting with pomegranate, persimmons, and lemon. Must have been too heady with excitement last week to notice all that glorious color. Our driver pulled to a stop, hopped to the ground, and opened the door to allow the young women to spill out.

  I waited for my turn to exit, hoping by the time I climbed out of the van, Seth would have disappeared into the maze of steps and passageways that characterized the castle. As I moved closer to the open doorway, a rush of orange blossoms in bloom filled my field of vision and permeated the air. Unfortunately, Seth’s presence grew just as strong. He stood next to the van like a gentleman, offering a hand to students as they filed out. The pretty red-haired student in the cool lab coat stood by his side, her mouth still moving.

  I sucked in a deep breath, ducked, then stepped out of the van into a clear blue day. I raised my gaze to meet his, and Seth’s eyes took an instant to adjust. He held my hand longer than the other women and pulled me to him. Then he kissed my cheek. “How was it riding back there, hon?”

 
I had no air to answer.

  Pretty Redhead’s eyes fluttered, and a tinge of rose highlighted her cheekbones. Her focus pivoted from Seth to me to the comingling of our hands. She took a step back, mumbled a good-bye, and clattered up the stairs to join the others.

  I held my breath, trying to avoid the happy memory of his scent a second time. The first time was purely accidental.

  Seth dropped my hand. “Thanks for saving me.”

  I exhaled. Of course. He needed me to help him pry a pretty coed from his arm. I blushed as I grasped the meaning behind his sudden affection. Then I laughed. It sounded forced. “Yes, well, you know me: mom by night, superhero by day.”

  A faint spray of crow’s-feet developed around Seth’s eyes when he smiled. “Better watch yourself. That girl may try to fight you back with some of her own powers—evil ones.”

  I glanced up the stairway where the students had gathered for instructions near the Neptune Pool. The student Seth referred to cut her gaze in the opposite direction after catching eyes with me. I swung my gaze back to him. “I can take her.”

  Seth’s expression grew mellow, and his voice took on that old familiar wistfulness. “I have no doubt that you can.”

  We trailed behind the group, walking side by side like comfortable friends. I had longed for this. The idealistic eighteen-year-old Suzanna may have conjured up other images with Seth once upon a time, but the older and wiser me simply cared to repair the tattered ends of a friendship.

  Seth slid a glance at me from the corner of his eye. “Good to see you with a sketchbook in your hands. That’s how I always picture you.”

  “You picture me?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  The bitterness I had witnessed in him the other day seemed gone “Ha. Yeah. And I usually picture you with wings on your feet.”

  He slowed his step and feigned surprise. “Really? Like a Greek god?”

  “You wish! Not exactly, Seth. What I meant is, you were always so . . . so busy back in the day. You had more plans than, well, Donald Trump.” I turned to him. “I often wondered if you ever slowed down.”

  His expression turned serious, then he looked off to a fog bank that drifted over the ocean. “Those dreams took me all over the place: Breckinridge, Seattle, San Francisco . . . Worked every place that would hire me.” Seth swiveled his gaze in my direction. “Especially those that didn’t require a contract.”

  “Hmm. And now?”

  His brow furrowed and he didn’t answer. This was somewhat familiar territory. The old Seth often needed time to process his thoughts before speaking, but this time, something in his expression bothered me. He clenched his jaw. Had my question made him angry?

  A moment passed before the look on his face softened by the smallest degree. “Took my time figuring out what I wanted to do and realized that I’d been most content climbing tall buildings and washing windows, where I could stay outside all day and listen to the air move. I worked for the former owner of my company until he retired, and then he sold the business to me.”

  I nodded, surprised. Not at the window-washing part, but at the notion that moving around had brought Seth to a place where he could find peace and settle down. Buying a business was a sure enough sign of that.

  We continued to meander along behind the students, first through the botanical gardens where I noted the precise placement of statues. Some looked sober, cold as though they wore the title of sentry, while others lounged about as if basking in sunlight, much like I imagined yesteryear’s celebrity guests to have done.

  We reached the vast red-tiled courtyard but trailed so far behind the group that the door to Casa Grande closed before we reached the side entrance that would take us to the second floor. Seth picked up his pace and found the door unlocked. He held it open for me.

  I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear as he followed me into the house. “So I haven’t asked this yet but . . . do you regularly join coeds on field trips?”

  “Guess I could ask you the same.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “My attendance doesn’t conjure up the same thoughts as yours does.”

  He laughed. “Oh, really.”

  I shrugged, glad that his pensive moment had passed. “Just sayin’.”

  He nodded. “Fair enough. If you must know, our bid was accepted and my crew started work yesterday. I’m here to check on them.”

  “Check on them? What . . . while going incognito as a college student and spying on your employees?”

  “No, of course not. I’m also here to view areas that have been recently added to the project. I need to assess the amount of time and crew the added work will take.” He glanced at me as if reading my mind. “I know, I know. I could have waited a day or two for someone from park services to let me in, but Fred told me about this tour and I figured why not?”

  “Wait. Fred told you about this field trip?”

  He tucked in his bottom lip, a sheepish grin stretching across his face. “Yes, he . . .”

  I jabbed an accusing finger at him. “You knew all the time that I was in the back of that van.”

  He stood still, his lips pressed together, his eyebrows pulled upward like Stan Laurel’s.

  I locked one hand on my waist. “And you didn’t say a thing, didn’t say hello, or anything.”

  He quirked his head to the side. “And neither did you.”

  “Pssh. Like I knew you’d be joining us. I didn’t even know if you knew I’d be in that van.”

  “Awkward?”

  “I’ll say.” Both of my hands flailed into the air, and my sketchbook went flying.

  Seth stepped around me and retrieved it. “Guess I should’ve said something then. Might have saved me from an unwanted advance.” He flicked his chin toward the group of students winding their way up the Gothic stairway.

  I followed his gaze. “Didn’t look all that unwanted to me.” I flinched after saying it. Now he knew I’d been watching him. Rats.

  A tinge of smugness overtook him, and Seth lowered his voice. “I maintain that the interest given me was neither wanted nor encouraged. Maybe the question I should be asking is why you felt it necessary to hide while analyzing me from that strategic seat in the back.” He paused. “Planning to tattle to Holly?”

  My skin grew warm. Holly. Did I forget they were seeing each other? Or just tuck that knowledge away somewhere? I had put myself in the position of discussing Seth’s love life with one of the sweetest women in town—like there was trouble brewing or something. I tightened my grip on my sketch pad. No way would I condone or even expect Seth to be anything but respectful of their relationship.

  Rather ornery of him to suggest I had an ulterior motive, though, even in jest.

  “Are you saying you don’t trust me, Seth?” Maybe I shouldn’t have smiled as I allowed those words to roll out of my mouth. We had fallen into a familiar cadence, one of old friendship. I didn’t want to lose that. In some untidy corner of my mind, the thought remained that we might have some kind of relationship again. Until Seth answered my question, that is.

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.” His tone had deepened and he sounded serious.

  I swiveled a look at him. “Seriously?”

  “I stopped trusting you ever since that day on your parents’ front porch.” He said the words as casually as if ordering a hamburger. Then he shrugged, as if this news didn’t matter much anyway.

  He was wrong.

  Chapter Twelve

  The studio door creaked open, the sound of it like an echo from my heart.

  Everyone but Timo, who remained hunched over his desk, had gone home. I would have too if Gage hadn’t called offering to pick up Jer from preschool. I considered refusing his generous offer, but he claimed he wanted to practice his parenting skills. After I heard Callie twittering in the background, I figured this wasn’t a pity mission but an honest desire to play with his young nephew. So I agreed.

  With the memory of Letty’s morning c
onsternation in my head, I decided to spend the evening working on the door. Maybe my taking the time to work alone in the quiet building would ease her concern over the project’s completion.

  And maybe, too, I would discover a way to digest Seth’s earlier declaration that he would never trust me again.

  After Seth dumped those words on me, I found it difficult to gather a full breath, as if his unwillingness to forgive me for the past wound around my lungs like the thin, sharp tendrils of a morning glory vine. Everyone knew those things grew like weeds, strangling everything in their path.

  We drifted apart on the tour after that. Mercy reigned and I became mesmerized by the restored sixteenth-century ceiling of the Doge Suite and, soon after, the guest library blanketed by one of Mr. Hearst’s Persian rugs and filled with art influences from Spain, France, and Italy. Our tour guide even allowed us to stop and admire the gold-adorned bedroom often requested by gossip columnist Hedda Hopper and the nearby suite where Clark Gable and Carole Lombard stayed.

  Seth found his ticket out of there when he spotted a ladder up against a building opposite from the one we toured. I saw him only once after that. He must have found his own ride off the hill.

  Timo glanced up from his work and stood. “Good. You’re here.” He tossed me a set of keys. “I was about to lock up, but now the honor is yours. You know the combination to the lockbox outside, right?”

  “Yes, of course. I’ll lock up the keys. No problem.”

  His muffled footsteps stopped at my workstation and he turned back around. “Unless you want me to stay?”

  “No, not at all. You go. I’m just planning to finish up what I started this morning.”

  He raised his eyebrows, a weird smile growing on his face. “I was thinking the same thing.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He stepped closer to me, that strange little grin still hanging on his face as if it had been drawn on with a Sharpie. “You were awfully into me this morning.”