Sea Glass Winter

by JoAnn Ross

  Did it?

  29

  Although Claire had had good intentions of getting at least two pieces done when she entered the studio, concentration was proving impossible.

  The trick, she knew, was to watch the glass, listen to it. Let it speak to her. Let it tell her what it wanted to be. Instead of trying to force the glowing, living material to gather into what she wanted to create.

  Unfortunately, her mind kept drifting to Dillon Slater. Focus proved elusive as, instead of paying attention to the pale glass forming on the end of her pipe, she was remembering last night’s hot dream. But she had no business imaging Matt’s coach making love to her while the winter rain pounded on the roof.

  Finally, after spending another futile two hours in the sweltering studio, Claire decided she was getting nowhere fighting the glass.

  Frustrated, she looked into the fire hole, watching as all the failed attempts bled and died on the glowing red coals, melting down into a single mass. The thing to do, she decided, as she poured the water bottle she kept for hydrating—vital in such dry heat—over her head, was to expand her horizons.

  Experience had taught her, going back to her early days of jewelry making, that when her muse grew stubbornly silent, nothing came from trying to force it.

  She was in and out of the shower in less than five minutes. She blew her hair halfway dry, braided it, and went out to explore her new home.

  Unfortunately, a quick glance out the windows revealed that while she’d been struggling to create something good enough to show in Portland, another storm had blown in from the sea, causing the rain to drum on the mossy roof and pound against the windows like a shower of stones. It was not a day for beachcombing or strolling along Shelter Bay’s colorful waterfront.

  As she took out the newcomer welcome packet Marcy Curtis had given her, a brochure for the aquarium in the town of Newport, just south of Shelter Bay, caught her eye. Grabbing her sketch pad, some pencils, and her Gor-Tex jacket and umbrella, she was headed out the door when her cell phone rang.

  “Hey,” she said, trying to hold down her anxiety over why her son might be calling. “What’s up?”

  He had a friend. A teammate he was shooting hoops with after school. And—hallelujah!—better yet, it just happened to be Charity’s adopted son.

  “Of course I’ll pick you up at Johnny’s house. His mother dropped by with some friends—and, get this, some already cooked meals for us—so I know exactly where it is. Just give me a call when you’re ready. And, Matt, honey… have a great time.”

  Feeling as if a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders, Claire drove down the coast road, and ten minutes later she was immersed in the magical land of the sea. At one exhibit, the surf ebbed and flowed against docks and piers and tide pools much like the ones on the beach below the cottage. Taking out her pad, she quickly sketched the anemones and sea pens, which resembled bright pink and orange old-fashioned ostrich-feather plume pens.

  Continuing on the glassed-in passage, through the dark and quiet canyons of the reef, through the sparkling waters out into the vast blue expanse of open sea, she reveled in the colors of blood stars, bat stars, brilliant sea urchins, and ghostly transparent moon jellyfish that appeared to have been created from liquid, amorphous glass.

  Dazzled by the colors swimming in her head, she stopped in to a gift shop to purchase postcards and a photography book of what she’d just walked through. With her muse once again fulfilled and excited, she couldn’t wait to get back home to work.

  “That’s a stunning necklace,” the woman behind the counter said as she rang up the sale.

  “Thank you.” Claire had tumbled the deep aqua sea glass oval making up the pendant until it was smooth and translucent, then wrapped it in swirling silver strands that represented the power of the surf during a winter storm such as today’s.

  “May I ask where you bought it?”

  “I made it.”

  Having been about to hand Claire her credit card receipt to sign, the woman paused.

  “You’re an artist?”

  “Jewelry and blown glass.”

  “Isn’t that interesting?” She handed over the receipt. “Do you do glass whales and paperweights and such?”

  “Although I enjoy them, my own work is larger. And I think my muse must have a very low boredom threshold, because I’ve never been able to make the same piece twice.”

  “Do you sell your jewelry locally?”

  “I’m at several stores in Portland, Salem, and Eugene, but since I was living in Los Angeles until last week, I never really had time to establish a market in the smaller towns. Though I have sold pieces to the Dancing Deer Two in Shelter Bay.”

  “I love that shop,” the woman said. “And the cookies are great, too. Would you be interested in placing any items on consignment? I’m manager here, and I just know they’d sell like hotcakes. Or even better, crab cakes.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Claire was headed back up the coast road, with a new consignment contract in her purse and dozens of shimmering, colorful images dancing in her head.

  The rain stopped just as she reached the sign welcoming her to Shelter Bay. As she passed the next sign declaring the town to be home to Navy Cross winner Sax Douchett, a double rainbow, sparkling like jewels in the light of the sun that had broken through the pewter clouds, appeared in front of her car.

  Deciding to take that as a positive omen, she drove across the bridge heading toward the cottage that was beginning to feel more like home every day.

  30

  Phoebe should have been floating on air. She’d spent the night making love to a wonderful, sexy man. But unfortunately, in the cold light of the mid-November day, reality had returned.

  “I swear, he’s like a shark,” she said as she paced the apartment floor the following afternoon. “Just when we think it’s safe to go back into the water, there he is.”

  “No,” Ethan said firmly. “He’s not.”

  “Well, maybe not him. But his parents. Which is even worse, since they have the bottomless pockets.”

  “But you have right on your side. And the law. And”—he bent his head and brushed his lips against hers—“you have friends in high places.”

  She laughed at the twist on one of his favorite songs. Had it only been last week they’d been dancing to the Astoria band Sax had brought in for country night at Bon Temps? As if on the same wavelength, he gathered her into his arms, which wasn’t so easy to do with the baby between them, and began twirling her around the floor, singing the lyrics to one of Garth Brooks’ signature songs in her ear.

  “I can’t stay upset when I’m with you,” she said, the worries that had begun bedeviling her again sliding away as he crooned about slipping down to the Oasis.

  “That’s the point.” He cupped her butt—which was considerably larger than it had been when they’d met—and slowed the dance to a sexy sway. “You brought sunshine back into my life, Phoebe.”

  His breath fanned her hair as he nuzzled her neck. “I’d put my feelings into cold storage after losing Mia and Max. If it hadn’t been for the farm, which I knew Mia would want me to make a success, I probably would’ve let myself spiral down into a deep black pit of self-pity.

  “So I threw myself into making it the best organic farm in the state.”

  “The country,” she said.

  She felt his smile right below her ear, where his lips had been stimulating a now familiar warmth. “You’re prejudiced,” he said.

  “True.” She lifted her arms, twined them around his neck. “But it’s also true that Blue Heron Farm sets the standard.”

  She’d once wondered if she could allow herself to fall in love with a man who’d loved another woman so deeply. Over the months she’d come to realize that it was precisely because Ethan had been the kind of man to fully give his heart that she could give her carefully guarded one to him.

  He’d loved Mia. Deeply. But now she was blessed to have him love
her. Just as deeply. And, although her child wasn’t one of his blood, he’d assured her while they’d been waiting for Charity to arrive that he would love her son as if he were his own.

  “I have an idea.”

  “About Peter’s parents?” They’d already spoken with Charity, who had immediately promised to call her stepfather for advice.

  “No. About us.” He brushed his lips against hers. “We’re not going to let them into our lives any more than we have to. I called Charity again. She said she could meet us at the shelter this evening. So what would you say to going out to dinner? Then dog shopping.”

  How did he always know exactly the right thing to say—and do? Phoebe had quit believing in soul mates when she’d given up on Prince Charming. But Ethan Concannon had her rethinking the concept.

  She went up on her toes and kissed him with all the love and happiness that was filling her heart.

  “I’d say yes.”

  31

  “You live above a vet clinic?” Matt asked as Johnny pulled into the driveway of the yellow house overlooking Shelter Bay. He was starting to feel like the only kid in town without a car, which really sucked.

  “Yeah. But it’s soundproof, so it’s cool. And the living quarters are totally separated from my mom’s work. You know,” he said, “they’re going to make you choose a volunteer job at school.”

  “Aimee Pierson told me. I guess she works at some doctor’s clinic on Saturdays.”

  “Yeah. Dr. Parrish. She’s our family doctor and is pretty cool… . Anyway, do you like animals?”

  “What kind of animals?”

  “Dogs and cats?”

  “Sure. I’ve always wanted a dog, but I’ve never been able to have one because my grandmother was allergic.”

  “That’s the pits,” Johnny said as they got out of the Ford Escape crossover with HARBORVIEW VETERINARY CLINIC painted on the doors. “Maybe you can get one now. But meanwhile, maybe you might want to volunteer with me. Along with being a vet, my mom runs a no-kill shelter. Since she’s really picky about fitting the right animal with the right family, there’re always some dogs living there.

  “I work Saturday mornings, cleaning the runs and feeding and bathing the animals. It sounds like scut work, but it’s actually kind of neat, because they’re always so happy to see you.”

  Matt had already been trying to figure out what he was going to do. This sounded like a good possibility. “Maybe,” he said, thinking out loud, “if I found the right dog, my mom would be so happy I was doing something useful, she’d let me bring it home.”

  “No sweat.” Johnny’s grin split his freckled face. “You find a dog you want, and we’ll get my mom on it. Because no one can resist her. She’s like a friendly bulldozer.”

  At that moment, the bulldozer in question arrived home, pulling up beside them. “Hi, boys,” she called out as she jumped down from the driver’s seat, then went around to open the back passenger door. “How was practice?”

  “It was okay,” Johnny said with a shrug as a little girl who looked about six climbed off her booster seat in back and came running toward them. Her shiny flowered raincoat was open, revealing a pink tutu and Tinker Bell T-shirt over bright green leggings. “I need to work on my shooting. Matt here is going to help me. This is Matt Templeton.”

  “I figured that out,” she said with a warm smile that had welcome all over it. “You favor your mother.”

  “You think?” He’d sometimes wondered, as he’d shot past his mother and grandmother in height, if he might look like his dad. Not that he cared.

  “It’s mostly in the eyes,” she decided, giving him a longer look. “They’re a different color, of course, but they’re very similar. And expressive.”

  Except for Dirk the Dickhead, everyone in Shelter Bay seemed really, really friendly. It was, in some ways, beginning to freak Matt out a little bit.

  The little girl tugged on the hem of his jacket. “I’m Angel,” she piped up. Her huge grin revealed a missing front tooth. “I learned to do a sauté in dance class today. Do you want to see?”

  “Sure.”

  “Great!” With that she took off, doing circles of running leaps around the front yard, arms outstretched as if she was trying to fly, her pink boots making squishy sounds on the rain-soaked lawn.

  “I met your mother today,” the vet said.

  “Yeah. She told me.”

  “It must be wonderful to have so much talent. If I hadn’t really liked her, I’d be envious.”

  “You have talent with animals,” Johnny jumped in loyally. “She’s even better than that dog whisperer guy on TV,” he told Matt.

  “My son exaggerates,” she said with a laugh, reaching out to ruffle his carrot red hair.

  Matt would’ve died on the spot if his mom had done that in front of any guy he knew, but he figured since Johnny had been a foster kid, he was probably more grateful than a lot of kids might be. Kids like himself, he admitted, thinking that maybe he’d been tougher on his mom than he should’ve been. She had been trying to do the right thing. Even if she’d screwed up his life in the process.

  “Some movie stars have bought her stuff,” he said, not wanting to seem to be lacking in family loyalty.

  “I know. I was at a wedding where Mary Joyce gave a close friend of mine a lovely glass piece your mother made as a gift. You must be very proud of her.” She shared another of those warm smiles. “She’s certainly proud of you.”

  “Matt thinks that maybe he might want to volunteer at the shelter,” Johnny said.

  “We can always use an extra hand,” she said. “And it’d also be convenient for you to get to know the dogs, since your mother said she’s been thinking that the two of you could use one.”

  “Really?” That was news to him.

  “Oops.” She shook her head. “Don’t tell her I spilled the beans, okay?”

  “No problem.”

  He was going to get a dog? He hoped she wasn’t planning on adopting some foo-foo dog that she’d dress up like a doll. A lot of his friends’ mothers had ones like that back in L.A. Some even carried them around in their designer purses like accessories. He’d die if any of the guys saw him walking some fluffy puffball.

  “How would you guys like a snack before you play?” She took a pink box from the backseat of her SUV. “I picked up some cupcakes.”

  “From Take the Cake!” Angel said as she came leaping up to them and switched to spinning like a top. “This is my pirouette,” she informed them all. “But it’s hard not to get dizzy.”

  “Did you get chocolate peanut butter?” Johnny asked his mother, catching his sister to steady her when she began to wobble.

  “Absolutely. I wouldn’t dare come home without it, since it’s your favorite. But I also got a mix because Gabe likes the carrot, and although I got your text about bringing Matt home, I didn’t know what he’d want.

  “You take Dancing Queen into the house before she gets so dizzy she throws up that lemon custard cake she ate at the shop,” she said, handing the box to Matt to carry. “I’ve got to run into the clinic and check on a cat I spayed this morning.”

  “That’s so she can’t have any kittens,” Angel said, having to looking at Matt upside down because Johnny had thrown her over his shoulder, fireman-style. “Mama says there are too many homeless animals already. So we shouldn’t be adding to the population.”

  “Makes sense to me,” Matt said as he followed them into the kitchen.

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, Angel was busy with a Disney princess coloring book while their mother began briskly getting things out of cupboards to start dinner. Which made Matt miss his grandmother. Not for the cooking, which he’d come to realize she was really good at, but just for the fact that somehow she’d been the one who’d made them a family. He knew his mom was his mom. And she was always the one who’d set down the rules about bedtimes and making sure he did his homework and stuff, but his grandmother had always seemed
like the glue that had held them all together.

  And now she was gone and he and his mom were getting tossed about in the same way that ship that wrecked beneath their small, ugly house must have been tossed before it crashed up onto the rocks.

  But hey, they were getting a dog. He just hoped he’d be able to talk her into a real dog. Like a lab. Or a boxer.

  They took turns shooting as they warmed up. Matt dribbled the ball twice, then put up a fifteen-foot jump shot that sailed through the net.

  “I’m glad we’re not playing for money,” Johnny said after he tried to duplicate the shot five times, missing four of those attempts, one of which sent the ball rolling into a bed of winter brown bushes. “Because I’d be in a world of hurt.”

  “It’s okay to miss. Even the great ones do. The trick is to make sure you’re still in place to make the shot when you do… . I’m going to try to miss, and you try to get the rebound, okay?”

  “Ready.”

  Matt stood at the end of the sports court Johnny’s father had built and drove toward the basket, throwing up a jumper that hit the rim. Before Johnny could even launch himself up to catch it, Matt had grabbed the ball in midair and stuffed it into the basket.

  “He shoots! He scores!”

  “That was amazing,” Johnny said.

  “I was lucky.” Which was only partly true. The other part was all the hours he’d put in practicing controlling his own rebounds. “The trick is to never take your eye off the ball. That’s where you have an advantage over the other players.”

  “Well, now that you’re on the team, I think the Dolphins are going to have an advantage over all the other teams in the league,” Johnny said.

  As they practiced the rebounds from the left, right, and center, Matt felt an inner click. He was getting his groove back. And it felt really freaking good.

  They were sitting on the front porch, waiting for Matt’s mom to show up, when Johnny said, “I saw you with Taylor today. At your locker.”