Chapter 8 #2
He tucked the phone into his pocket as he walked across the yard to his parents’ house.
As soon as he stepped inside, his mother wrapped him in a tight hug. “Hi, honey. Haven’t seen much of you lately.”
“Well, you know, jet-setting around the country and all.”
She squeezed his arm. “Right. That sounds so like you.” Her voice conveyed a smile and sarcasm at the same time. “How are you?”
“I’m good.” He glanced around the living area. “Where’s Dad?”
“Oh, it’s just us. I forgot it’s Dad’s pickleball night, so he’ll have to eat later.”
“Ah.” His father was an avid hiker but found plenty of other ways to stay active and in shape during the winter months. Nick preferred tennis or basketball. He pulled open the fridge and helped himself to a beer.
“Tell me how it went in New York,” his mother said as she began tossing lettuce into a bowl.
“I think it went well. As far as I know, I’m still in the running.”
“Were you nervous?”
“Not too much. It was pretty low-key.”
“Good. Did they say anything positive?”
Nick smiled. “Well, now that you mention it, they were impressed that they couldn’t tell whether I was nervous or not.”
“Oh, that’s funny. It’s so exciting. I can’t wait to find out.” She handed him the salad bowl. “Want to put this on the table?”
Nick managed to keep the conversation on ordinary topics throughout dinner, practically giving his mother a virtual tour of new items in the shop.
Then he changed the subject from himself to his sister.
“Any news from Essie?” His younger sister, Vanessa, had graduated last May with a master’s degree in Public Administration then promptly joined the Peace Corps.
She currently served in Uganda. Nick knew his mother missed her but also spent plenty of time worrying about her.
His mother took a sip of wine, then shook her head as she stood and began clearing the table. “She seems to be doing fine and loving it. I got a couple of photos from her yesterday.”
Nick followed her into the kitchen with his plate. “That’s cool. Nice to get that proof of life, right?”
His mother grimaced. “Thank you for not leaving the country. I feel like I’ve aged ten years in the last six months.”
Nick slid an arm around her shoulders. “She’ll be home before you know it.”
They both fell silent as they tackled the dirty supper dishes and cleanup.
Nick reached into a drawer for aluminum foil, wondering if Kat’s family worried about her in the city. He’d only known her a short while and already he was concerned about how secure her apartment was, what her neighbors were like, how safe the walk from her place to the subway was.
He startled when his mother nudged him.
“What’s on your mind, sweetheart? You’re drifting away like you’ve got some deep thoughts in there.”
How could she always read him so well? He started to shake his head and pretend it was nothing. But was there really any harm in telling her about Kat? Maybe it would help take her mind off his sister for a while. He paused a moment then said, “I met someone.”
His mother’s brows arched instantly, and her hands stilled as she turned her full attention to him. “Is that right? As in someone you’re dating?”
“Not sure. She lives in New York.”
The brows furrowed. “You met her while you were in New York?”
Nick leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. Might as well settle in and give the low-down. “Met her in Denver when she was home for Christmas. But I did see her in New York.”
“Well, that’s interesting. Tell me about her.”
“She’s an artist—paints. Works at the Museum of Modern Art and is the daughter of a potential client in Denver. Her name–”
“Whoa. Hold on a minute.” She held up a hand to stop him. “I thought other artists were off limits. Prima donnas…dreamers…moodiness. Isn’t that what I’ve been hearing for years?”
Nick blew out his breath. She was right.
Ever since college when he’d witnessed a few volatile relationships between people in the art studios and the meltdown of a relationship of his own, he’d sworn off artists.
And he made a point to steer clear of personal attachment to any of the consigning artists at All Things Beautiful.
Never mind that earlier in the day he’d been contemplating adding Kat’s paintings to the shop. Exceptions could be made, right?
He gave his mother a slow smile. “I think she’s kind of special.”
His mother’s mouth dropped open. But seconds later, the gape was replaced by a wide smile. “Oh, my.”
“She works hard on her career, making things happen. Not looking for someone else to do it for her or sitting around waiting for her muse to visit. She’s out there making connections, getting to know people, volunteering…”
“Ah, now that’s starting to make sense. She sounds lovely. Does this mean you’ll be dashing off to New York on a regular basis?”
Nick finished the last swallow of beer before answering. “Not sure. She doesn’t come home often.” He tossed the bottle into the recycling bin and resisted checking his phone to see if Kat had responded to his earlier text.
“Hmm. If she’s that busy, it’ll be hard to make the time. Daughter of which client, honey?”
Nick sucked in a deep breath, regretting that he’d mentioned the tense Rebecca Andrews and Denver homes show. “The one doing the homes show.”
“Oh,” his mother said, the surprise in her voice indicating she remembered their earlier conversation about that job. “Well, that’s okay. We know kids don’t always turn out to be like their parents.”
“And not all moms can be as amazing as you, right?” Nick teased.
A grin widened on her face. “That’s a fact. You got lucky.”
“Thanks for dinner. Think I’m going to head back to my place. Tell Dad I said hello.”
His mother hooked an arm with his as they headed toward the front room. “Will do. I’m glad you’re seeing someone. It’s good to do something besides work every once in a while, you know.”
Nick planted a kiss on her cheek then opened the door. “Night.”
On the short walk back to his place, he pulled the phone from his pocket and read a message from Kat. His pulse spiked. Looked like he would be “seeing someone” tonight.
* * *
At eight-thirty Mountain time, Nick clicked on Kat’s video calling ID, and only seconds later, her face appeared on his cell phone.
Smiling, she waved at him. “Hi!”
His chest tightened in response, but he managed a verbal one as well. “Hi. How was your day?”
“Great. Spent all day at the studio. Worked on a painting and got a couple of layers done. It’s coming together quite nicely, in fact.”
“Good to hear.”
“What about you?”
“My biggest accomplishment was getting a contract ready for your mother. I’m meeting with her Wednesday morning.”
“Oh, that’s right. Gosh, I hope she signs, and you can get going on the project. You might soon have other things to do besides her little fireplace mantel.”
“And some bookcases.”
“Oh, yes. And bookcases. Beware. She might come up with a dozen other projects while you’re at it.”
“Add-on clause comes standard in the contract.”
“Good. Actually, it’s a good thing she has a deadline. Once she gets on a roll…look out.”
Kat’s carefree laughter had Nick’s pulse jumping. Whatever else Rebecca Andrews had or hadn’t done, she’d produced a lovely daughter, and he had to give her credit for that. The grandmother may have played a major role, but still, a mom’s genetics counted for something.
“I’ll be on the lookout for a steamroller,” Nick said. “Hey, I’ve got a proposition for you.”
A wide smile lit her face, and she leaned closer to the screen. “Yeah? What’s that?”
Nick caught himself before lifting his hand to brush back the hair from her face. “I was wondering…what would you think of putting some of your art in my shop?”
A tiny frown crinkled her forehead. “Oh. Um, I don’t know.”
“We get a lot of tourists in the summer,” he added when she didn’t elaborate.
“I bet. That’s great, but I wouldn’t have anything for this summer.
I have to keep the paintings from the show available for six months in case someone’s interested.
You know, sometimes it takes people a while to think about it and make a decision.
If they sell at the show, that’s just their tough luck, but Pete still wants his clients to get first dibs after that. ”
“Ah. Didn’t realize that’s how it worked.”
Kat shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know if that’s how it always works, but that’s Pete’s policy. It’s fine. I definitely want to stay on good terms with him and his clients.”
“Got it,” Nick told her. But he had to admit disappointment. In his mind, he already had them up and sold. “Well, maybe later on if you end up with a few extra pieces. Or maybe the ones Loft didn’t choose. How about those rejects ?” With a grin, he held up his hands to make air quotation marks.
“Maybe.”
It was Nick’s turn to frown. She didn’t sound too excited. He didn’t know many artists to turn down a selling opportunity. But he let it go when Winslow suddenly jumped into Kat’s lap, and the screen filled with the feline’s furry image.
“I guess Winslow wants to say hi,” Kat told him. “Maybe he recognizes your voice.” She shook the cat’s paw up and down then peeked around him. “Hey, I also worked on my bio tonight. I’ll send it to you tomorrow.”
“Cool. Did you choose a photo?” He’d forgotten that he had dozens of pictures of Kat from their photo shoot on his computer. He’d be opening that file as soon as they ended the call.
“Well…” Kat drawled, her voice pitching up. “I like a lot of them. I’m shocked, honestly. You did an amazing job. But I think I’ve narrowed it down to three. I forgot to take my computer with me today so I could show them to my friend Mia.”
“I’d be happy to render an opinion.”
She smiled. “For sure. But I want a few of those. I’ll send you the numbers.”
“Great.” He sensed the conversation waning and figured it was a good way to end—before there was an awkward void. “I’ll take a look–”
“I should probably get going,” she said at the same time. “Tomorrow will be a long day with the new project at the museum and a meeting at the Loft. No telling how late I’ll be working this week. When Cassandra—that’s my boss—starts something new, we do a deep dive.”
“Can’t wait to hear what the new exhibit is all about,” he told her. “Sweet dreams.”
“Thanks. And good luck on Wednesday. Let me know how it goes, okay?”
“Will do. Goodnight.” He lingered on the call, letting her be the one to end it.
Drumming his fingers on the table, Nick replayed the whole conversation in his head.
Didn’t sound as if she expected to talk again before Wednesday.
She seemed happy to see him and talk, but he felt a little unsettled.
Was she hedging on sending him paintings to keep from having long-term ties?
They’d had such a great weekend. She’d been on his mind since the minute they’d said goodbye—kissed goodbye.
But tonight’s conversation had him wondering…given their circumstances, did she just friend-zone him?