Chapter 5 #2
Nick shook his head. “That’s not official. She’s interviewing other people. We haven’t signed a contract.”
“But you might.”
The waiter arrived with their meal and interrupted the conversion.
“Hey, didn’t mean to pry,” Nick told her as he cut into his chicken.
“I know. And I don’t mean to make a big deal of it, but there’s a lot of family baggage, and I don’t want to spoil our dinner, or make you uncomfortable around my parents. I’ll just say my mother and I aren’t exactly close.”
Kat and her mother had been at odds since the day Kat was born—even before. As her father told her over and over, it wasn’t that her mother didn’t love her, she just didn’t understand her, didn’t know how to relate to her.
“Yeah, I picked up on that.”
Kat took a drink and smiled. “I was one of those later-in-life babies. An oops. And you may have noticed, my mom is a planner.” And every time she looked at Kat, her mother was reminded of the mistake.
Nick chuckled. “Right.”
“Mom was a rising star in her law career. My brother was almost ten, and my sister was seven, both in school full time. So, Mom was re-focused on the professional part of her life. Believe me, I’ve heard the story many times how she’d been at a critical stage in a big case the day she learned she was pregnant.
” Kat didn’t need to be told it wasn’t welcome news.
“Ah. That’s too bad.” Nick picked up his glass.
“Plus, she’s never forgiven me for adding some much-needed color to a boring bathroom wall when I was about four.”
“Uh-oh.” Nick grinned. “Your artistic tendencies started early.”
“Yes. My medium of choice at that time was colored markers—and not the washable kind. She had to call her decorator and have the room re-wallpapered. A terrible inconvenience.” Though she’d been young, Kat remembered the details of that day.
Remembered the horror on her mother’s face.
The high-pitched screech when she discovered Kat with markers in hand was forever seared in Kat’s brain.
She waved a dismissive hand. “Anyway, what about you, are you close to your parents?”
He nodded. “Yeah, close two ways—we get along great, and I live on their property.”
“That’s really nice.” She couldn’t help wondering if there was anything not amazing in his life. It all sounded too good to be true. Surely, he wasn’t stretching the truth to impress her.
“Enough about the families,” he said. “Tell me more about your show. I’ve been checking my email for the bio you were going to send but keep coming up empty.”
Kat smiled but let out a soft groan. In one of their text conversations, she’d mentioned the bio, and he’d offered to be another set of eyes.
“I know. I’m still working on it. I want to let it sit a day or two and then look over it again.
” She still had a couple of weeks to get the artist bio to Pete at the gallery.
She’d agonized over every word and comma, wanting it to be exactly the right tone—professional but at the same time personal.
“What about the photo?”
“Hey, Mister Task Master,” Kat shot back. “It’s on the list.”
Nick held up his hands. “All right, all right. But, hey, I’m pretty good with a camera. We could try a couple of set-ups while I’m here if you like.”
“Really?” He was apparently a man of many talents—or jack-of-all-trades. Kat mused the idea. She had a list of photographers, but some were way over her budget. “Maybe. I haven’t decided whether I want a studio shot or something kind of edgy on location.”
“We could try some of both.”
She studied his face. Was he really that darn nice or was he looking for a way to spend more time with her?
Or both? He had to know by now that she provided no “in” with her mother.
“Sure. If it fits in your schedule.” A trial run might be a good idea, but would he be offended if she didn’t choose one of his shots?
He seemed laid back, but when it came to his work…
well, it was hard to say. Some artists had a strong prima donna complex about their work.
“A few of my artists show here sometimes. Have you ever done any of the big fairs?”
“No. I don’t do art fairs,” she told him. “I know some people make connections that way, but I…it’s not what I want to do.”
“The big ones offer some decent exposure,” he said. “I used to do quite a few before I opened the shop and built up the custom business. Had it down to a science.”
Kat hated the whole art-fair scene—the set-up, hauling her work around with the possibility of damage, the unpredictable weather and turnout, and the potentially low return on investment.
Besides, a lot of people went to art fairs for cheap entertainment or to walk their dog, not because they were seriously interested in buying art.
She smiled and changed the subject. “Your appointment tomorrow is at nine or ten?” They’d texted back and forth several times, but she didn’t remember all the details as well as he apparently did.
“I got lucky on that,” he told her. “Ten o’clock. I had to book flights before I found out my time slot, though.” Pausing, he cleared his throat. “So, I’m heading out tomorrow evening.
“Ah, too bad,” Kat said. “That’s such a waste. You could’ve spent the whole weekend in New York.”
“Believe me, had I known you when I made the arrangements, I would’ve made different plans.”
Kat’s breath caught in her throat. He was direct. The unexpected admission sent her thoughts spinning. All signs said he was enjoying getting to know her as much as she was enjoying getting to know him.
They decided to skip dessert, but in the silence that hung between them after the waiter left the table, Kat grew nervous. What next? She was reluctant to end the evening, but should she invite him over?
“Where to?” Nick asked suddenly. “There’s a nice bar in the lobby of my hotel. Or we could head over to Times Square. Maybe find someplace with live music? Or do you need to make it an early night?”
She appreciated the “out” he extended, but she didn’t need it. “It’s too cold to be wandering around outside. Let’s go to my apartment. I’ve got some good chocolate that pairs nicely with coffee or wine. Would that work?”
“Sounds great.” He reached for the check.
Kat was still mulling their conversation as they left the restaurant. Could she take tomorrow afternoon off? Spend it with Nick? He hadn’t mentioned any plans, and she’d already put in a few extra hours earlier in the week to catch up from the holiday time off.
When a sharp blast of wind swept around them, Nick turned to her. “Why don’t you go back inside and stay warm while I flag down a taxi?”
“No, it’s fine,” Kat assured him. “It won’t take long to get one.”
She hadn’t meant anything other than she would stay with him, but he put his arm around her, pulling her close, presumably to keep her warm. It worked. She could feel the heat radiating from his body through their coats. Turning slightly, she inched closer.
Was it her imagination, or were temperatures rising?