Chapter 1 #2
Peter smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m sorry you went through that.”
She waved off his comment. “Don’t be. The breakup was the best thing to happen to me.
He was a rebound relationship, after my husband, Jim Armstrong, died.
I’d known Ed in high school and then we went to college at the University of Colorado in Boulder.
We went on a couple of dates to see if something was there but then I met Jim.
He was it for me. All I wanted was to marry him and to have his babies. “ She stopped and took a shaky breath.
“You don’t have to tell me if it’s too painful.”
She shook her head and continued. “We’d been married almost five years when he got lung cancer and passed away.
” She felt the tears come, as they always did, but she kept her eyes open until they dried and she could blink without them running down her cheeks.
The technique was something she’d learned how to do long ago.
“I’m sorry. You probably didn’t want to know all of that, it’s just I feel like I know you and trust you. ”
“It’s all right. You studied art in collage, so you’re an artist?”
She shrugged. “Only in the most liberal sense of the word. I know art but I’m not an artist, by any stretch of the imagination.
You on the other hand are the most gifted artist I’ve seen since Picasso.
I love that you can work in so many mediums and still have that special something that attracts everyone to your art. ”
Peter blushed and dropped his chin. He didn’t smile.
“I’ve made you some tea. It’s a wonderful blend my mother used to make with black tea and orange peels. Then you can tell me why you were out in a blizzard?”
The cabin was one bedroom. The main room was the living room, which took up one side and contained a sofa, coffee table, one overstuffed chair, one end table with a radio on it, and a small square dining table with two ladderback wooden chairs.
The other side of the room was the kitchen.
On the inside wall and in the middle of the two rooms, was an enormous stone fireplace.
She’d left the bedroom door open so as much heat as possible went in there.
“Well, helpful lady, I would love some tea. As for being out in the blizzard, I was headed to my rented cabin. I’m avoiding the reporters and gallery owners and everyone else wanting a piece of me.
I sort of crashed and burned, I guess is the best way to put it.
I placed one of my latest paintings up in a gallery in Denver.
It, admittedly, wasn’t one of my better pieces, but I am just so tired of everyone wanting something from me that I just handed over one of my latest that are in a new style I’m attempting.
It wasn’t well received and now everyone is hounding me asking if my career is over.
Am I done? I decided to get away and find out. See if I can find my muse again.”
She frowned, a little embarrassed. “Lady? Oh, right, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Alexis Armstrong and you’re Peter Kincaid.”
He narrowed his eyes. “How do you know me?”
“Uh, unfortunately, I’m one of those nagging gallery owners. I own The Armstong Gallery in downtown Aspen. I’ve been trying to talk to you for six months only to be told. “He’s not taking calls from anyone at this time.”
He looked down at his lap and rubbed his hands on his thighs.
“I’m sorry. I really haven’t taken any calls or returned any messages from anyone except my immediate family.
I didn’t even accept calls or texts from aunts, uncles, or cousins.
I figured someone had gotten to them since I hadn’t heard from any of them in years before that. ”
“No,” she shook her head and placed a hand on his knee. “I’m the one who is sorry. If I’d known, I might not have been as much of a pest.”
He covered her hand with his and smiled. “Since you saved my life, I owe you. So, you have me here, a captive audience, so to speak. What did you want to talk about so badly that you would keep calling me for six months?”
Alexis pulled her hand back, pressed it against the other, and rubbed them together.
“I wanted to obtain one of your paintings for my gallery. If I had a Peter Kincaid painting in my gallery, attendance would skyrocket and hopefully sales would soar as well.” She spit it out as fast as she could, afraid if she slowed she’d lose her nerve.
Talking on the phone was so much better…
less personal…less chance to be hurt and to show it.
“I hate to disappoint you but I don’t exhibit any of my work anymore.”
Her shoulders slumped, and she looked up at him.
“May I ask why? Your paintings are amazing and I’m not talking about the backgrounds and characters you do for your family’s video games.
While they are quite wonderful themselves, I’m talking about your paintings, whether in oil, watercolor, or acrylic, they are so beautiful.
Thought provoking and mesmerizing at the same time. ”
“The paintings are my first love.” He closed his eyes for a moment and then smiled. “And in every medium that I could paint with, I loved working with them all.”
“I can tell by the way you talk that you don’t paint anymore. Why is that?”
“You’ve heard of having a muse, well I lost my muse. When she left so did my desire to paint. I came up here to try and rediscover my joy for painting, without a muse. Just for the love of it.”
“I’m sorry. Who was she and where did she go?” She lowered her chin and waved a hand dismissively. “Again, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be prying into your personal life.”
He turned his body toward her and leaned back against the arm of the sofa. “It’s alright, since you saved it tonight. Her name was Melody. A fitting name for a muse, don’t you think? Anyway, she fell in love with someone else and left me to be with him.” He shrugged.
She reached over and rested her hand on his knee.
“I’m so sorry. That must have been painful.
I guess that’s something we have in common, too.
” Alexis leaned back against the sofa. Her hands clasped tightly in her lap.
“One of the men I dated after Jim died, cheated on me. With my best friend actually. The one person I confided everything in, especially about him. I knew he was cheating, I just never suspected it was with her.”
He squeezed her hand where it rested on his knee. “I’m sorry. That must have been very hard for you. Losing your husband and your best friend.”
“Actually, I mourned the friendship more than the relationship. He and I were never truly happy. I don’t know why we even dated as long as we did.
I mean, I guess we thought we were in love, but I think it was more that we were just lonely.
Once we got over the loneliness nothing else was left.
Turned out we didn’t even really like each other very much. ”
Peter tilted his head and smiled. “It’s a good thing you discovered that before you got married. “
She stared at him for a moment and then stood. “Yes, it was. Let me check on the tea. It’s probably over steeped and it’s likely to be very strong. Would you like milk, sugar, or honey for it?”
“Honey, please. Thank you…for everything. I’m very glad you found me or I should say, let me come in. I would have frozen to death on your porch otherwise.”
She walked into the kitchen, prepared the tea and returned carrying a tray with the tea, a pitcher of milk, and honey.
Setting the tray on the coffee table in front of the sofa, she handed him a full mug.
“I’m just glad I was here and that you found me.
I would have hated for you to become another statistic.
An artist, who died at thirty-two, and whose art is suddenly worth ten times what is was when you were alive. ”
“Yes, that would definitely be the worst thing in that scenario,” he deadpanned.
She rolled her eyes and sighed. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong. Let me start again. I’m—”
He laughed. “I’m just teasing you. I know what you meant.”
Alexis lifted a brow. “You’re a little ornery, aren’t you?” She put honey and a little milk in her tea, then took a sip. It was definitely strong, but at least, the milk cut some of the bitterness.
“All of us are, at one time or another. Usually, it’s only around people we know and trust. I must trust you, Alexis.”
“Well, it’s nice to know you’re so sure about it.”
He laughed again. “I can tell you say whatever comes to mind.”
She felt her cheeks heat. “I do. I often get in trouble for saying everything without a filter. It’s a failing of mine, and I’m trying to rein it in.”
He shook his head as he held his mug. “I like it. It’s refreshing to hear what someone is actually thinking, rather than what they think I want to hear.”
She took another sip of her tea. “Why would anyone just say what you wanted to hear? I’ve never understood that. How can you get to know someone if they’re just mimicking your thoughts and feelings?”
Peter set his mug on the table. “You can’t. That’s the point. I don’t want a mimic. I thought I’d found that in Melody. I was wrong.”
“Well, at least she wasn’t a gold-digger, otherwise she would have stayed.”
He shook his head. “Not necessarily. I’d already drawn up an ironclad prenup. Melody was well aware of it, and perhaps that’s why she left.”
“I’m sorry. That’s horrible. I can’t imagine being in your position. You have to hope for the best from a person but expect the worst. That’s not a good way to get to know someone, either.” Alexis sipped her tea, which had grown cold. “So what will you do when we get out of here?”
He shrugged and took a sip of his tea. “I don’t know. I would like to see your gallery.”
“I’d like that.” She looked at her watch.
“It’s time for the weather report.” Tuning the radio she kept on the end table, they listened to the weather forecast. When the forecaster was done, Alexis turned off the radio.
“It looks like you’re stuck with me for another three or four days.
Maybe longer, depending on how heavy the snow is.
I haven’t seen a blizzard like this in…well…
ever. My mother told me about the blizzard of ’82.
They were living in Lakewood then and about two feet fell overnight in Denver.
Days passed before the roads were clear.
It’ll take longer than that up here. I think you’ll be with me for the duration.
There’s no way you’re walking to your cabin.
The next cabin is the Simpsons. They’re in Florida but their cabin is about two miles away. ”
Peter perked up. “That’s who I rented from…Joe and Estelle Simpson. I can’t believe I got so close when I was lost for an hour.”
Alexis nodded. “Yup, that’s them. It’s a nice place, ten times the size of mine and has a great view when it’s not snowing. I’m not surprised you were lost. It’s easy to do up here in the best of conditions.”
Peter leaned back on the sofa and sighed. “Well, I can think of worse things than being stranded in a remote cabin with a beautiful woman. But what about you and your gallery? You won’t be able to get there either.”
Alexis felt her cheeks heat at his compliment.
“With this kind of snow, no one will be out trying to buy or even look at art. I wouldn’t be opening even if I could get there.
” He thinks I’m beautiful. No one has said I’m beautiful since Jim died.
Not any of the men I dated said I was beautiful, cute, adorable but never beautiful.
But does he really mean it or is it just because he’s stuck with me?