Chapter Thirty-One
November 24th, 8:30 p.m.
P aloma raised her glass of riesling, the local wine cool against her palm. Around her, the restaurant buzzed with Friday night energy, but her focus remained on the small circle at their table.
“To the Sterling house,” she said, her voice carrying over the ambient chatter. She raised her wine, the golden liquid catching the light. Her gaze locked with Max’s, and she loved the way his eyes sparkled with their shared triumph.
Her wine flute met his glass. The soft clink sent a shimmer of energy through her, and the sound seemed to amplify their collective joy.
Felix leaned in, his glass joining the toast with a crystalline chime. “Congratulations to you both,” he said.
Abigail nodded and completed the circle, her stemware ringing out as it connected with the others. The four glasses formed a shimmering diamond in the air, but Paloma barely noticed the others. She and Max remained connected by an invisible thread of shared accomplishment.
Paloma sipped her wine, the crisp riesling dancing on her tongue. Setting her glass on the table, she couldn’t contain her joy. “I still can’t believe how well the final walk-through went.”
Max shook his head slowly. “Right! I don’t think I’ve seen Roy smile once in all the time we've met with the Sterlings. Today, it never left his face.”
Abigail took a sip of her red wine. “That is impressive. I met him at a gala last year. He spent twenty minutes critiquing the canapés.”
Paloma laughed. “I believe it. I had redesigned his balcony from scratch two weeks in. The same went for the bedroom layout. He had something to say about everything.”
“And I had at least a dozen re-designs for the living wall,” Max added. “But today made the aggravation worth it. They couldn’t stop complimenting our work.”
“Best of all,” she paused dramatically to bask in the moment. “They’ve asked us to meet with their brand publicist. They want to feature us in their magazine’s Christmas special?”
“What?” Felix exclaimed. “That’s huge!”
She nodded, bouncing in her chair. “It’ll be in their top-selling magazines and all over their social media.”
This was the break she’d been waiting for. Her business had grown steadily over the past year, but this would change everything. It could mean bigger projects, like hotels and condos. A familiar determination settled in her chest as she looked around the table at her small circle of support. With this deal, she wasn’t only rebuilding her business but burying the whispers that had called her a fool.
“To new horizons,” Max said softly, raising his bourbon.
“What will you two do next?” asked Felix.
Max shrugged. “Now that the weather’s turning colder, things are slowing down a little for me, but there’s enough to keep everyone from getting too bored. We’re focusing on design work for spring installations, using the downtime to upgrade our skills and plan for the busy season ahead.” He looked at Paloma. “What about you?”
“With this project being extensive and out-of-town, I was careful not to take on anything else substantial. So, I only have two quick projects. One is for a home remodel, and the other is an ongoing project with a custom home in Ann Arbor.” She sucked in her lips and then released them. “I’ve also had a colleague of Mrs. Thompson reach out to me. But I haven’t decided if I’ll do it.”
Max nodded, saying without words that he understood her hesitation. There might even be a little guilt in his eyes, not that she blamed him. The Thompsons discovering his past was unfortunate but not his fault. And they were both to blame for losing themselves that afternoon on the infamous walnut coffee table.
And so far, there’d been no fallout. All invoices had been paid, no negative reviews had been posted, and it seemed they’d been recommending them—and only their work. There wasn’t a hint of anything unprofessional from Elodie’s colleague.
“Honestly, I want to keep my options open,” she said. “I’m hoping for some bigger projects once the article prints and the Sterlings talk about their home and on social media. I might even put in a bid for small hotels and condos. I’d love to expand my portfolio.”
“They’d be lucky to have your talent.” Max clinked his glass against hers, his grin as warm as his eyes. She could melt in either.
“You two are so cute together,” Abigail gushed.
Felix scoffed. “Not as cute as us.”
Max dropped his gaze to his drink, his smile slipping for a second. Then he pasted it back on, but it had lost most of its luster. “Paloma mentioned you’re coming back with us,” he said.
“Yeah, it’s our monthly family dinner. And I’m driving back a Blower Bentley for a client. You don’t mind, do you?” Felix asked.
“Of course not.”
The conversation continued around her, but her gaze and mind drifted to the window, to the people passing by and fading into the growing darkness. They were heading home the next day, leaving behind the magic of their professional triumph. And maybe something else too. Despite sleeping next to each other for two weeks, they might as well have been oceans apart. Her excuses had seemed so reasonable at first. He was working while recovering, so he needed to rest between. But his bruises faded, and still, the distance remained.
She took another sip of her riesling, the crisp wine doing nothing to wash away the nagging suspicion that she was running from something impossible to outrun.