They met up with Jeremy ten minutes later by the checkout line.
"You stocked up," he said, eyeing her rather full cart.
"I had a little helper with me." She noted that he'd managed to get through the store with only a few items in his cart.
He laughed. "Ice cream?"
She nodded. "I had to say yes because she asked for it out loud."
His lips tightened. "Good. I'll pay you back."
"Don't be silly. You and Ashlyn just need to help me eat it later, or I'll be waddling out of Aunt Carly's house at the end of the summer."
"I seriously doubt that," he said dryly.
After checking out of the store, they headed back home, and Ashlyn reluctantly said good-bye to Mia after her father told her she needed to give Mia some time on her own.
Mia promised she'd see them soon, and then let herself into the house.
It felt good to fill the refrigerator and make herself a cup of tea. After the groceries were put away, she grabbed two large plastic trash bags and headed upstairs. While the studio was still her main focus, she did want to make the guest room more livable. It didn't feel as sad as her aunt's room, so it was much easier to start there.
She didn't know who the items in the guest room belonged to, but the drawers in the dresser were filled with an odd assortment of clothes, including a few men's shirts, which might possibly have belonged to one of Carly's lovers.
Mia smiled at that thought. She'd never actually met any of her aunt's male friends, but she'd heard some amazing stories. Carly had a way of making men fall at her feet and worship her. But no man had ever managed to get her down the aisle.
After debating for a few moments, Mia decided to put all of the gently used clothes in a bag for donation. Anything with a button missing or a stain, she put in the trash bag. She was about to tie off the second full donation bag when her cell phone rang. It was her sister Annie.
"Hey, Annie, hang on a sec." She put the phone on speaker and set it on the dresser as she knotted the ties of the trash bag and set it aside. "How's it going?"
"Good. I'm just leaving the hospital. Nicole and her beautiful daughter Amanda are doing very well. She's the sweetest baby with fuzzy blonde strands of hair on her head and the face of an angel."
"Thank goodness everyone is healthy." Nicole had still been in labor when she'd left San Francisco, and although she'd gotten several texts that baby and mother were fine, she felt better actually speaking to someone.
"So what's happening in Angel's Bay?" Annie asked. "What does the house look like?"
"It's filled to the brim."
"I told you."
"I'm up for the challenge. Taking care of Aunt Carly's things is what she'd want me to do. And I'll feel better for doing it. It will be my way of saying good-bye."
"Have you found anything good yet? I know she had some really interesting jewelry, and you might overlook that while getting caught up in some dusty old paintings," Annie teased.
"I will put anything aside that looks interesting, valuable or sentimental. Then you and Kate and anyone else in the family can take a look and see if you want it."
"I know. I trust you, Mia. I would help if I wasn't so busy right now."
"It's fine. It feels good to be here. I forgot how much I like the town. Everyone is so friendly and down-to-earth. It's a nice change."
"Well, I'm happy that you're happy. We'll talk soon."
"You've got it."
As she ended the call, her gaze was caught by something moving outside the window. She looked down at the backyard. A shadowy figure moved through the studio door.
Had Ashlyn come back?
She really hoped the little girl hadn't snuck out of the house again, but she wouldn't put it past her.
Setting the bag aside, she hurried down the stairs and into the yard. She pushed open the door of the studio. "Ashlyn, are you in here?"
She stopped in surprise when she realized it wasn't Ashlyn in the cottage but a woman. She appeared to be in her early thirties and had brown hair and dark eyes. Her silk blouse, gray pencil skirt, and high heels suggested she held down some type of office job.
"Hello," Mia said, feeling a little awkward and uncomfortable. "Can I help you?"
The woman hesitated. "You're Carly's niece, aren't you?"
"Yes, I'm Mia Callaway and you are…"
"Christina Wykoff. I probably should have stopped at the house first."
Probably, Mia thought, wondering why Christina looked so nervous. "Did you need something?"
"I used this studio last year. I heard that you might be putting together a display of Carly's art, and, well, I'm not sure I want my painting to be part of that."
"Oh, right. I was going to try to contact the artists before I did anything." She couldn't help wondering how Christina had heard about her plan. It had to have come from Kara since she doubted Jeremy would have told anyone. Although, come to think of it, she'd mentioned her plan to Jeremy's friend Kent as well.
"This studio is more messy than I remember," Christina commented.
"I've just started cleaning things out."
"Yes, I saw the paintings on the patio, but mine wasn't out there."
"Why don't you describe it to me, and I'll keep an eye out for it? If you give me your number, I'll let you know when I have the display ready, and you can come by and see if your piece has come to light. I certainly won't display it without your permission."
"I suppose that will work," she said slowly, but she didn't look happy about it. "I would never want my art to be displayed in public. It was for me, and the piece I did for Carly was for her. You really should think about what you're doing. The people who stayed here over the last couple of years came for a reason and their art was personal."
Christina's words gave her pause. Mia hadn't really thought that anyone would leave something behind with Carly that was that personal. Wouldn’t they have taken their emotional pieces with them when they left?
Christina opened her bag and took out a business card. "Please call me when you have things organized."
"All right." She read the card. "Are you an attorney?"
"No, I'm the business manager for Hamilton and Sloan."
"Okay. Was your painting a seascape, landscape, still life or a portrait?"
"I'll know it when I see it. Just call me when you've put all the paintings in one place."
"Of course."
"This mess is very—disturbing." On that note, Christina left the studio.
Mia felt a little disturbed, too; not by the clutter but by Christina. She didn't seem like the kind of woman who would spend days making art in a studio like this. So why had she stayed here? She had to have been one of the people who had come to the studio to work out some sort of problem, and Mia couldn't help wondering what that problem had been.
She stared down at the card again, but there was no answer on the foil-embossed card. Didn't she have enough to worry about? Why waste a moment thinking about a rather rude woman?
It bothered her that Christina had made no attempt to ring her doorbell. She'd just let herself into the studio.
Maybe that's the way Carly had let the artists come and go, but Carly was gone and Christina knew that. It would have been far more courteous if she'd rung the bell and asked for permission to look for her painting.
Putting the card into her pocket, she debated whether to pull out more paintings in the hopes of getting that organized or finish turning the guest room into a more comfortable living space for herself.
She decided the paintings could wait for another day. She was going to be here for a few weeks. Christina would just have to wait.
* * *
Wednesday morning, Mia took her coffee out to the patio table and sat down, enjoying the beautiful vista. The morning sun bounced off the waves of the ocean beyond, and the horizon opened up her mind, making her feel like she was starting over, finding a new path. She had no idea where the path would lea
d, but she was eager to find out, and she was determined not to force herself to follow any signs or map things out too closely. She'd done that her entire life, trying to stay in control of every little thing and make every decision count for something big.
From today on, she was going to try to relax and not hold on so tight to what she thought was right or wrong. No more seeing life in such a black-or-white way. It was time to let the colors in.
She'd stayed up late the night before cleaning out the guest room and going through the kitchen cupboards to get rid of any trash. She felt a little better now that her personal space was more organized. She might have felt a special connection to her aunt, but she did not share Carly's love of clutter.
Her cell phone buzzed on the table, and she smiled at the text from her sister Kate.
Kate had attached a photo she'd taken from a plane, the skyline of Tokyo in the distance. The caption read, "First assignment. Can you believe it?"
She couldn't believe it. "What are you doing in Japan?" she texted back.
"Waiting to get off the plane. We landed 10 minutes ago! So annoying."
"What's the assignment?"
"Can't say, but I feel like my life is just beginning."
She could hear her sister's excitement. Kate had always wanted adventure and now she had it. "Be safe."
"How's Angel's Bay? Met any angels yet?"
"No, but there is a really sexy man living next door."
"What??? Is he single?"
"Yes, but he has a kid and a lot of baggage."
"You love baggage," Kate wrote back, knowing her all too well. "And cleaning things up."
"Not men. Too complicated."
"Life is complicated. Remember what Aunt Carly used to say."
"What?"
"The right man will make you question your sanity."
"Should we really be taking advice from our spinster aunt?"
"She had love. She just didn't get married."
"Maybe." She wondered if she'd find evidence of that love when she started going through her aunt's things. "I'm not looking for love, maybe just some great art. Crazy feeling that Aunt Carly's art studio is going to help me re-launch my career."
"Hope so. Go for it. The Callaway twins cannot be stopped!"
Her sister Kate was usually the one who couldn’t be stopped.
"Gotta go. Finally opened the doors."
She sent back a smiley face and set down her phone. Even though she and Kate were very different, there was a bond between them that would never be broken.
Her phone buzzed again, this time with an incoming call from an Angel's Bay area code.
"Hello?"
"Hi Mia, it's Kara."
"How are you, Kara?"
"Good. I've called a bunch of people, and we're all set to do the coloring book party tonight at the quilt shop."
"Really? I can't believe you pulled that together so fast."
"It wasn't that difficult. I know it's short notice, but tonight worked the best. Otherwise, it would have to wait a week or two."
"Tonight is fine. My schedule is not booked."
"Wonderful. Everyone is excited to meet you. Will you have time to copy the patterns for the party?"
"Definitely. How many should I make?"
"I'm expecting around twenty people. We have plenty of markers and colored pencils, so don't worry about that. And we'll have food and plenty of wine as well. It's going to be fun."
"You're very nice to do this."
"Oh, please, I'm doing this for myself, too. It will be fun to have a night out. Come around seven."
"See you then." She got to her feet. Time to get started on the day.
Eight
Jeremy found his daughter staring out the window of her bedroom at Mia's backyard. Ashlyn clutched the doll Mia had given her to her chest, and there was a yearning look in her eyes that sent a wave of pain through his soul. He didn't know if it was Mia that Ashlyn really wanted, or if it was her mother, and Mia just reminded her of her mom. But there was definitely something about their neighbor that had captured Ashlyn's interest.
He silently admitted it wasn't only his daughter who was interested in Mia; he found her quite fascinating himself.
He'd thought about her last night and had fought the urge to call her or go over there, knowing he needed to put some space between them. They'd shared a lot for two people who had only met a few days earlier.
He hadn't let a woman into his life in such a big way—ever. He'd told her things about his father, his mother, his past that he hadn't shared with anyone but his longtime friends. Somehow, with Mia, he'd found himself wanting to spill his guts.
He'd liked hearing about her life, too. She'd told her story with some ashamed regret and he'd found her openness incredibly appealing. It was nice to be with someone who was willing to admit mistakes. She was still figuring things out, but she was on the right track.
He forced himself to stop thinking about Mia and focus on Ashlyn. That was the most important relationship in his life.
Clearing his throat, he said, "Ashlyn. I made pancakes for breakfast."
She didn't turn around. He walked closer to the window and saw Mia puttering around the patio. She wore shorts and a tank top, showing off her beautiful curves, and his stomach tightened into knots.
Yeah, it wasn't just her kind heart and warm smile he was attracted to; her killer body had a lot to do with it, too.
Despite his very recent resolution to put some distance between them, he heard himself say, "Should we see if Mia wants pancakes?"
He'd barely finished the question when Ashlyn bolted from the room, her long hair flying out behind her. When he got to the hall, he saw the sliding door off the kitchen was open. He grabbed the plate of pancakes he'd covered in foil, the bottle of syrup and headed next door.
When he came through the gate, he saw Mia giving Ashlyn a quizzical smile.
"What do you need, honey?" Mia asked.
His daughter pointed to their house.
"You have to say the words, so I can understand," Mia said.
"Pancakes," Ashlyn bit out, then pointed again to the house.
As Mia followed his daughter's fingers, her gaze caught with his, and a jolt ran through his body. God, she was pretty with her golden hair and incredible blue eyes. She didn't have on a speck of makeup, but her skin was flawless and warmly kissed by the morning sun. He'd like to kiss that face, too, every sweet inch of it.
"Good morning," she said.
"Breakfast," he replied shortly, having as much trouble now as Ashlyn had had to get out a comprehensible word. He lifted the plate in his hands. "I figured you're busy, so I brought the pancakes to you."
"They smell delicious."
"Did you already eat?" he asked, moving forward.
"I just had coffee."
"Can I tempt you?"
She hesitated. "Probably too much, Jeremy."
He had a feeling she was talking about more than pancakes, and he swallowed hard at that provocative answer.
Mia's cheeks turned red. "I can't believe I just said that. I'm going to get some plates and silverware."
"Do you want to eat inside?"
"Out here is good. Just clear a space on the table."
As she practically ran back into the house, he looked at the table laden with what he might call crap, but what he suspected she would call art, and he wasn't sure how to start clearing a space. "What do you think, Ash? What can we move?"
Ashlyn set down her doll and then started putting a collection of teacups into a nearby box. Soon, there was space for him to set down the pancakes and syrup and even a little room for the plates when Mia returned.
"Are those blueberry pancakes?" Mia asked.
"Yes and the blueberries are organic, picked at the local farm."
"By you?"
"No. By the person who runs the shack on the side of the road."
"Close enough," she said with a smile. "I love break
fast, and yet I almost never make it; I'm often running late in the mornings. I can't remember the last time I had pancakes. What a treat!" She glanced over at Ashlyn, who was actually eating with enthusiasm. "You love pancakes, too, don't you, Ashlyn?"
The little girl nodded her head, chewing away.
Mia turned back to Jeremy. "Thanks for sharing your meal with me. It's very thoughtful."
"You're more than welcome," he said, thinking he could look into her eyes for a really long time and have no desire to look away.
"Jeremy," she said softly.
He could see the conflict in her eyes, desire warring with reason. There was an undeniable attraction between them, but what to do about it was a big question and one he couldn't answer right now. "Eat your pancakes before they get cold, Mia. I'm sure whatever you have to say can wait."
"You're right. It can wait." She picked up her fork, took a bite, then sighed with delight. "Wow."
He laughed, feeling ridiculously proud. "Really? That good? The mix came out of a box."
"The blueberries didn't, and you put it all together. I'm impressed."
He wanted to impress her in a lot of other ways, but as Ashlyn reached for another pancake, he was reminded that he had a chaperone. "So how are things going around here? Did you get a lot done last night?"
"I filled about six trash bags, half to go to charity and the other half to the trash. But to be honest, I feel like I'm chipping away at an iceberg with a bobby pin."
"There is a lot of stuff."
"What you see is about ten percent of it. The problem is that I keep coming up with a plan of attack and then decide to change it. First, I was going to do the studio. Then I decided I should do the house, so I could be more comfortable in the room I'm staying in."
"That makes sense."
"Then a woman showed up in the studio yesterday afternoon and told me she wanted her painting back. She said she didn't want it to be in whatever exhibition I was planning, and she was kind of rude about it. So then I started thinking maybe I should go back to the studio and focus my efforts there."
If I Didn't Know Better Page 9
