The Art of Love (The Windswept Saga)

by Tommie Conrad

  Provided he didn’t screw it up again.

  Chapter 6

  Taylor woke up early Saturday morning, in a concerted effort to get there before anyone else. She slipped into her best red dress, which showed a lot of leg but was otherwise modest. She parted her long hair to the left, pulling the strands into a loose clasp at the nape of her neck. She checked herself in the mirror, wished her mother goodbye for a while, and headed to work.

  She found Chandler in his office, covered in a navy suit and French blue shirt, each of which brought out the stunning hue of his eyes. His standard white hat was nowhere in sight and his short blonde locks were glossy and pushed toward the sky. A striped tie hung around his neck, and he looked uncharacteristically nervous as he stood there, greeting her with an uneasy smile. His face turned hopeful and she couldn’t help but feel a stirring of love for him. In some ways he was different, vastly different from the boy she’d dated in those halcyon days; and in others he was as unchanged as if he’d been frozen in a block of ice.

  “I know it’s not in your job description but do you think you could help me with this tie? I can’t seem to get my hands to work today.”

  “Sure,” she replied quickly. She drew close to him and swallowed hard as her fingers took the two ends and looped them together. She was close enough to smell his aftershave, his cologne, and a hint of lotion. None of it was unpleasant, and when she smoothed the tie against his chest she felt the pounding of his heart.

  “You’re pretty good at that,” he complimented, feeling stupid afterward.

  She nodded but didn’t glance up to meet his eyes, fearing what she’d see there. “I used to do Liam’s every morning before work. I got to where I could fix a necktie in my sleep, should the need ever arise.”

  Taylor heard the nervous gasp escape his throat, shook it off. “You know what this reminds me of?” he asked humorously.

  “Prom,” she replied, accurately gauging his thoughts. “When I pinned that tiger lily to your lapel and drew blood from my finger, I figured I’d pass out.” She laughed. “Kind of ironic that I wound up working in a hospital.”

  “I kissed the pain away,” he reminded her.

  “Uh-huh.” She stepped back and took a look at him—altogether, an appealing package—and smiled faintly. “You did do that.”

  He dropped his head and stared at the floor. “Sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Taylor. Sometimes I forget my boundaries.”

  Taylor raised her hand to stop him. “Those are good memories. It’s the bad ones you have to worry about.”

  “I have a few of those myself.” Chandler cleared his throat, and the air. “You nervous about today?”

  “Not really.” Taylor arched her right eyebrow at him. “After all, you’re the man in charge.”

  Chandler grinned and watched her walk into the gallery. He let out a deep breath, prepping himself one last time for what he hoped would be an onslaught of well-wishers.

  Taylor experienced another memory of the past when Chase and Bryn arrived at the gallery. Bryn handed off to Chase what appeared to be a mountain of food and pulled her into a hug. After Joseph’s death, Bryn had prepared enough food to last the Holts for a month, and Taylor had never forgotten it. They’d allowed her and Alice into their home as guests, and even helped with the funeral planning. In short, they’d been Godsends at a time when Taylor had felt utterly, completely lost and alone, even with Chandler so steady at her side. Leaving him, and ending their relationship, had also meant severing ties with Chase and Bryn. And if they’d ever held that against her, it didn’t seem to show on this day, when they nearly squeezed the stuffing out of her.

  Chase looked the place up and down, examined the walls and the paintings quietly before returning his attention to Taylor. “It looks like you’ve been a big help to Chandler,” he said gratefully. “I know he’s appreciative. We all are.”

  Taylor watched as Bryn worked to set up the food—who needed a caterer when she was your mother? Gradually she was joined by Susan, and Sam after he’d finished inspecting Alison’s store. She looked back at Chase and wondered what was going on behind his eyes. He was still a handsome man, his hair a brilliant, windswept silver. Would Chandler be so handsome at that age? Would she be around to find out? “I’m the grateful one, Mr. Adams. This job is absolutely what I needed.”

  Chase nodded. “I know you had to go on and live your own life, and we respect that. You were missed around here, though. Chandler was always a good kid but when he dated you, he didn’t dare step a toe out of line—the thought of being punished, reprimanded, and not being able to see you damned near made him crazy. In a good way, I mean.” He smiled and cleared his throat. “Sorry about that. Old memories can be painful to dredge up. I have so many of the kids together, Chandler and Mark thick as thieves from the beginning, then the two of you almost inseparable.”

  Taylor smiled wistfully. “Chandler was there for me at one of the most painful times in my life, and I will always be grateful for that. I love my mother, but I would have been lost without him, without all of you.”

  Bryn rejoined the conversation and smiled affectionately at Taylor. “He’s not boring you with old ranching stories, is he, sweetheart? I can’t leave him alone.”

  Chase wrapped an arm around Bryn and kissed the top of her head. “Together for nearly thirty-five years and still trying to boss me around.” He laughed roughly. “Someday you’ll learn.”

  Bryn winked at Taylor. “Why don’t you go find your son, Chase? Make sure he’s eaten something this morning. He never could eat when he got nervous.”

  He kissed Bryn’s ear and nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” He took his leave and Bryn leaned against the counter, whispering to Taylor conspiratorially.

  “Funny how quickly I turned that in my favor.” Taylor laughed softly. “He’s nervous, isn’t he?”

  She nodded, maybe a little too certain. “You know how he is, Miss Bryn. You did raise him. He puts on that hard shell but you can read it all over his face.” She waved a hand around for emphasis. “We’ve spent much of this week coordinating the grand opening and I can promise you that I have his back. I’ve come to care a lot about this place in a very short time.”

  Bryn looked away and one eyebrow shot upward. She was well-aware of Taylor’s feelings because, despite her obvious maternal bias, Chandler was pretty easy to love. She worried to excess about his relentless, frenetic, multitasking ways, but he’d never given her an ounce of actual grief. Chandler’s sensitivity and depth of kindness was his greatest asset, and likely his greatest flaw. He simply cared too much about things he couldn’t change. Her youngest son had a palpable chemistry with Taylor, and Bryn had been secretly both devastated and relieved when their relationship ended. She assumed they would find their way back to one another, but life had taken its usual circuitous path. She’d been happy when Taylor married Liam, meeting him once when they’d come to visit Alice. Bryn figured that was that, and after a certain point they all moved on. God clearly had a different plan in mind, though, for Taylor was back in Chandler’s sights.

  “Miss Bryn?” Taylor’s question knocked her out of her head and back into reality.

  “I’m sorry,” she quickly apologized. “I was just checking to make sure there was enough food.” Taylor followed her gaze to the table and back, until their eyes met.

  “It looks more than adequate.” The women shared a smile, and, they’d quickly come to realize, some unspoken truths.

  ***

  Chase gripped his son gently by the shoulders, and looked him up and down. He smiled.

  “Well, even if you do have my hair, face, and eyes, you’re still a pretty handsome young man.” He turned his head to one side. “At least you don’t have my nose.”

  “CJ has your nose,” Chandler observed. Both men laughed and let the conversation rest for a beat.

  “I’m proud of you,” Chase told him. “Even if you’d never sold a single painting, you’ve grown into a fine pe
rson, a great brother and a loyal friend. You’ve been standing on your own two feet for so long now.”

  Chandler noted the wetness in his father’s eyes. “I wouldn’t have become anything without you and Mom to guide me. You gave me the best childhood imaginable, and I never wanted for love or security.”

  “You’ve done an incredible job with this place. There’s gonna be a lot of people here today.”

  Chandler nodded and let out a deep breath. “I couldn’t have done any of this without Taylor,” he admitted. “She called and invited people that I’d forgotten.” Chase smiled helpfully. “What?”

  Chase shook his head and let his gaze wander over to a fixed point on the wall. “You’ve got that look in your eyes, son. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

  He narrowed his eyes at his father, trying to remain collected but failing miserably. “I’m just trying to be her friend, Dad. But yes, there are a lot of complicated feelings between the two of us. I’d be lying if I told you otherwise.” They were interrupted by a knock at the adjoining door, and CJ stuck his head in a second later.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  Chandler rolled his eyes and smiled. “Come on in, knothead.”

  He laughed and closed the door behind him. He was dressed up, even sporting a necktie, something that occurred about as regularly as a snake in wintertime. “It’s getting busy out there, on both sides.”

  Chandler nodded. “How’s Alison doing?”

  He grinned. “She’s selling it left and right, like it was on clearance. And smiling at every customer like they’re her favorite.”

  Chase wrapped an arm around his eldest son’s shoulder and held him tight. “Where’s that grandson of mine?”

  “Chasing his sister around and making her laugh. You’ll see them soon. Alison’s got them dressed up like they’re headed to a wedding.”

  “Well,” Chase pointed out, “this is a big day for all of us.”

  “Congrats, bro,” CJ said, a huge smile ratcheting his face up a few notches. “It’s just hard to put you on babysitting duty these days.”

  “Ha-ha,” Chandler replied dryly. And three of them laughed.

  ***

  A steady stream of people built to a torrent as the walls of the gallery neared the breaking point. Taylor saw many familiar faces, and some unfamiliar, but nearly all of them friendly. Alone at the counter, having just directed the mayor toward Chandler’s station in the next room, a tall man gave her a brotherly hug and she laughed.

  “Mark,” she said, smiling. “And who is that handsome man with you?”

  “Hi, Miss Taylor,” Max said brightly. “I’m wearing a bowtie.”

  She laughed. “You are, aren’t you?” Mark pulled him off the floor and into his arms.

  “How are you doing, Taylor? Chandler told me he’d hired you but I didn’t pry.” Max nuzzled against his neck. “I see you’ve already met my son here, charmer that he is. We meant to be here earlier but Christa had to settle the baby down. He’s never been around this many people before.”

  Taylor nodded. “I’m glad to be home, regardless of everything that’s happened. This feels like a fresh start.” She scanned the crowd. “Where is Christa?”

  “Next door,” Mark replied. “She’ll be over here in a moment. Wait till you see Matt—he’s beautiful.” Taylor shook her head and smiled—there was something so unexpected but very right about seeing Mark as a contented family man. It seemed that he and Christa were very lucky to have each other. “She’s been meaning to drop by but she’s so busy with work and…” Mark looked toward the back, where Christa was just emerging from the office. “Over here, sweetheart,” he said, smiling brightly when she came close.

  “Taylor!” Christa gave her a one-armed hug, since she was clutching Matt in the other one. “I’m so sorry,” she said a moment later. “We must be overwhelming you today—every Adams and Jasper and what looks like half of the state—but it is great to see you.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Taylor replied. “There’s something life-affirming about seeing all of you with families of your own.”

  Christa smiled tentatively. “When there aren’t so many people around, I’d like to talk, just the two of us.”

  Mark grinned. “I’ll leave if you want me to.” She looped her free arm through his and gave him a caring gaze.

  “Don’t you go anywhere, cowboy. Unless you’d like to get your wife some tea—Mom said it’s decaf.”

  “Say no more, beautiful. If you’ll excuse us, Taylor—it was good to see you again.” He nodded and smiled. “Come on, Max.” She watched them leave and returned her attention to Christa.

  “You two always did make a striking couple. Nice to see you’ve passed those genes onto your kids.” Christa smiled pensively.

  “It hasn’t always been easy, but in some ways it was worth it.” All at once she looked mortified. “I’m sorry, again, Taylor. I must sound silly talking about my problems when you’ve been through some hard times.”

  “Please. Chandler told me about Max’s accident, so I know you’ve been through it, too. Don’t feel the need to be sensitive around me. I’ve discovered over the past few years that I can handle pretty much anything, whether I want to or not.”

  Christa nodded. “Been there myself. Look, if you ever need another female voice, Alison is here, and so am I.” She glanced at the people funneling in through the front door. “I’d better check on my brother, and my husband, and make sure neither of them is into mischief. We’ll talk more soon, I promise.”

  “I’d like that.” Taylor nodded, smiled, and watched her depart. The day only got better from there, as she had to place several SOLD signs alongside many of the canvases. Occasionally she would catch Chandler looking in her direction, and when their eyes met, they would always exchange a smile. If his goal was to reassure her, to make her feel confident in the work she was doing, to make her feel protected and safe, then mission accomplished. Her mother showed up at one point, looking at once old-fashioned and very stylish. Alice had always had an elegance about her, and Lord knew Taylor had been something of a tomboy, with very little of her mother’s advice making sense until she became a mother in her own right.

  “This is quite a shindig the young Mr. Adams is throwing—with your help, of course.” She smiled perceptively at her daughter. “Where is that handsome young man?”

  Taylor refrained from rolling her eyes—after all, Alice was only trying to help. “Check in back, Mom. He’s discussing his art with the town council, and CJ and Mark are feigning disinterest. You should see them—throw in a few swords and pointy hats and they’d be the Three Musketeers.”

  “Mm-hmm.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Your secret is safe with me.”

  Taylor frowned. “Have fun, Mom. Enjoy.” She watched her mother move further into the gallery and prayed, silently, for the best.

  ***

  “That’s my favorite, you know.” Chandler looked from his brother, to the painting, and back again.

  “You like the one of you and Mark. Why am I not surprised?” His words were pointed, but his tone was jocular. “You always were a little full of yourself.”

  CJ laughed. “And it’s not for sale?”

  “Not for sale. Just a display item to let people see what I’m capable of.”

  He nodded. “Your landscapes, man, they’re perfect, but you’re great at portraits. You should do ‘em more often.”

  Chandler smiled. “I wasn’t aware you were such a connoisseur of art, bud.”

  “Oh yeah, I like to look at all beautiful things.” He leaned his mouth close to Chandler’s ear. “In fact, I think I’ll go stare at my wife for a while.”

  Chandler laughed. “Be good.”

  “Always.”

  He knit his brows together and pursed his lips to one side, the way he always did when deep in thought. But momentarily, another voice from the past interrupted him.

  “It’s hard to believe one man c
an possess so much talent.” His mouth changed into a quick smile and he pulled her into a hug. When he placed a kiss on her cheek, she blushed.

  “Miss Alice,” he said with reverence. “I’ve been waiting here for you all day.”

  “You clean up very nicely, young man.” She brushed imaginary dust away from his coat lapels.

  “Why thank you, ma’am.” He laughed. “See anything you’d like to buy?”

  She waved her hand at him. “Most of it is outside my price range, young man. I wouldn’t say no to a free sample, though.”

  Chandler nodded. “For you, I’ll paint the Grand Canyon.”

  “You flatter me, sweetie.” She checked from side to side, made sure no one was within earshot at the moment. “Thank you again for giving Taylor this job.”

  “Think nothing of it, ma’am. She earned it with her level of experience. It was a stroke of luck that she applied when she did, because I was just about ready to give up on it.”

  “That would have been a very bad idea,” Alice mused, “because you’re clearly smitten with her, and I think the feeling is mutual.”

  He was mildly perturbed by her insinuation, because it held more than a grain of truth. “Miss Alice, you can’t live in the past. What we had back then, it was great, but it’s over and we’re different people. This is a simple business arrangement and I won’t do anything to make her feel uncomfortable.” Famous last words, his conscience retorted.

  “You always were a gentleman,” Alice rejoined. “Speaking of which, I think I’ll go praise your mother for raising such a kind young man. If you’ll excuse me…”

  “Of course,” Chandler said, for lack of anything else. “It was great to see you again.”

  “You too, Chandler. Don’t be a stranger. Stop by the house anytime.”

  He blew comically from the corner of his mouth, the puff of breath fluffing his eyelashes for a second. Everyone loved his art, but they clearly thought his love life needed a fresh coat of paint.