Chapter 40
The “thank goodness” message ended up just being a sympathetic person, and within an hour of posting, there were twenty similar comments. Vic couldn’t decide if it was good news that no one had come forward to claim Christmas or offer any concrete leads as to who her owner might be.
Yuck, though, she did hate the word “owner” when it came to animals. She remembered something she’d seen online about how in Hawaiian, you are not a pet’s owner. You are their kahu, a guardian, protector, steward, or—her favorite, that seemed especially applicable to cats—their “beloved attendant.”
Vic shared the kahu thing with Cal when he came over that afternoon to go for a walk, though so far, they’d only snuggled and kissed on the couch. It was a deliciously lazy way to spend the day, and she didn’t feel like stopping anytime soon.
“That might be a bit too much to reference in my posts, though, hey? ‘Looking for the protector, cherisher and beloved attendant of one young cat’ . . .”
Cal laughed, and Vic’s insides fluttered happily.
He found her funny—often. And when she was intending to be.
Like he appreciated her humor. She wracked her brain.
Had she ever felt like he’d laughed at her, not with her?
No, she didn’t think so. It was weird. And sad.
Fifty-three years old and she was with a man who, by not saying a word on the topic, made her understand how much shoddy treatment she’d accepted over the years.
And it was also, of course, delightful. She was discovering a whole new type of affection and attraction.
“Your eyes are like a beautiful lake on a cloud-strewn sunny day,” Cal mused, reaching out and playing with a strand of her hair.
Vic chewed the corner of her bottom lip, embarrassed, pleased—surprised again—by this man. What poetry he spoke to her. It was over the top. She loved it. That scary word again!
“They go light, they go dark, they cloud over, they clear again . . . It’s like I can see the shifting moods of your thoughts.”
Although Vic was flattered—of course she was!—it was unnerving to be paid such close attention to. He’d wake up from their dreamy attraction and find her wanting, see her myriad flaws.
“No,” he said softly, touching her cheek. “Save sad thoughts another time.”
She had to smile at that.
“And the waters brighten again,” he said triumphantly.
“You’re a bit nuts, hey?”
“A lot nuts, completely nuts—over you. I hope that’s okay.”
She rubbed her thumb over his knuckle. “It’s wonderful. And mutual. I hope it won’t change.”
“No worries there. Nothing could change it.”
Vic had to look away. Cal, despite all he’d been through, was still too sweet and na?ve.
Good things, great things—every kind of thing—could always change.
That was life. And, though she was falling into a lovely stage of what if—what if it could work out between them?
What if he was different from past men in her life because she was different?
—she was all too aware that he didn’t know everything about her.
His feelings would no doubt change once he did.
So, you should get on that, don’t you think? Full disclosure before you’re sucked in all the way and get crushed when he inevitably dumps you?
But how exactly did you start a conversation like that? Hey, I think you’re really great, but before we go any further, you should know a few things about me, chiefly . . . I’m a homewrecker and a thief.
Well, you did hint very early on that you had serious things to work through, hence why you didn’t want to start anything with him.
Not that you stuck to that.
No, not that she had . . .
Cal was tracing a lovely figure-eight design over and over in the palm of her hand now with his thumb.
Was he aware of the pattern’s symbolism?
Eternity. Her heart squeezed painfully—and she recognized that squeeze as hope.
Even more than the premature pop of the word “love” into her thoughts earlier, this steeled her resolve.
I will have a serious conversation with him, so he’s eyes wide-open about me. And I will have it soon, she promised herself. For now, though, a change of subject was in order.
“How much time should I give it?” she asked.
It only took Cal a second. “To hear back about Christmas before you and Audra decide she’s permanently yours?”
“Yeah.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. At least a week.
Maybe two? Animals can travel pretty far, and who knows?
Maybe it was some sort of housesitting situation, where the owners went away for the holidays and got someone to watch the house and their pets, but the cat took off.
They might not even know she’s gone yet. ”
“Yeah,” Vic repeated, but even this—and even on the heels of her realization that she needed to have a serious conversation about difficult-for-her subjects with Cal—couldn’t fully pull her out of the clouds or make her believe things wouldn’t somehow be okay—especially when he pulled her close, gave her a warm squeeze and added, “Whatever happens, don’t worry. It’s all going to work out.”
They ended up, at Vic’s request, not going out for dinner as previously planned.
“I . . . I sometimes feel self-conscious, or I don’t know, it’s hard to relax in restaurants. Like sometimes I can, but—”
“Hey, hey,” Cal said soothingly. “No worries. I don’t have my heart set on a restaurant meal.”
Vic exhaled.
“I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’d love to take you out for dinner anytime, anywhere—but it’s cool if you don’t feel like it.
We—I—can make peanut butter sandwiches for all I care and eat in our underwear—” He broke off abruptly, realizing how that sounded.
“I mean, uh—I just want to spend time with you.”
They ended up ordering in a feast of Chinese food, and it was perfect.
The rest of the week disappeared in a blink of similar cozy fun and togetherness.
With the Second Chance closed until the New Year and Cal’s business doing the same, they had ample time to check off the to-do list of maintenance and repair chores Cal had created, including making the table in the corner of her “studio” into the Practical Penelope.
And since the table was being revamped, Vic decided to paint it.
The color she chose? A fuchsia pink, so deep and vibrant it seemed to glow.
With all her paints and brushes arranged on it, it looked like a piece of art itself.
She loved it. So did Cal. In fact, after seeing it, he headed back to his truck and returned with several lengths of lipped shelving, painted white, so they’d just blend in with her walls.
“What are those for?” she asked.
“Do you trust me?”
Something jittered inside her. Trust was still too big a topic, maybe, even in jest—but in house repairs and renos? She sure did. Absolutely.
“I guess,” she said.
“I’ll pretend you said that with a whole lot more enthusiasm and confidence.”
“And what exactly am I trusting you with?”
“You’ll see. Why don’t you go make Audra a cup of tea?”
Vic snorted. “Why don’t I go make—it’s a good thing you’re pretty, Anderson.”
Cal glanced past her, as if addressing someone else in the room, and fluttered his eyelashes. “Did you hear that, boys? She thinks I’m pretty.”
Vic shook her head.
Cal directed his attention back to Vic, scrubbed his beard, and winked. “Honestly, though, ‘pretty’ is not a compliment I get often.”
“I think I’ll go make Audra that tea.”
There was silence from her room as she went downstairs. Then, as the water started to boil in the kitchen, she heard Cal’s drill buzz to life.
When he summoned her shortly, she took in his brainchild with surprise and glee.
A continuous shallow shelf framed the full perimeter of the room, just perfect for displaying drying canvases, finished canvases, or works in progress.
He’d taken the liberty of placing a couple of her pieces here and there, but in Vic’s mind’s eye the shelves were already full, some canvases even overlapping in places.
The room, well . . . it really was starting to look like a studio.
Even her narrow childhood bed, now plump with pillows of assorted sizes and shapes that she’d covered in jewel-toned cases to pull in the colors from her window seat, looked more like a place to rest and think and daydream than it did a bedroom’s bed.
“Cal,” she managed. “It’s . . .” Words failed her.
Cal surveyed the room, gazing side to side. “Looks pretty good, hey?”
“It’s the most perfect workspace, ever.”
“Okay, that’s definitely an exaggeration.” But his eyes crinkled, and she knew her words had made him happy.
“Thank you so much. I love it.”
“You’re very welcome,” he said.
They didn’t work all week without stopping or anything, however.
The furthest thing from it, in fact. And Vic found lazing around with Cal just as satisfying as working with him.
They read books, went for long, bundled-up walks in the beautiful crisp air, shared meals, played with Christmas—and watched a lot of NCIS with Audra.
Of all the things that made Cal special, Vic thought the way he was willing to spend time with cranky Audra just because she was her mother was especially telling about his character.
Vic and Cal both moaned—only half joking—that the decadent week of doing whatever they felt like whenever they felt like it was going to make returning to real life, with alarm clocks and less flexible schedules, very, very difficult.
And still they hadn’t had the talk that Vic had resolved to have.
On the evening of the 30th, as Cal was getting ready to head home—a bit earlier than usual because Vic wanted to paint, and he hadn’t spoken to Carrie in a while—he turned to Vic. “So about New Year’s Eve,” he said. “I was thinking . . .”
“Did it hurt?” Audra asked drily.
“Ha! Good one.” He pointed a finger at her, unfazed, and turned back to Vic. “Do you have plans tomorrow night?”
“I don’t know . . . do I?”
He smiled so big that it kind of hurt Vic’s heart a little. “Will you do me the honor of spending the evening with me tomorrow and ringing in the New Year?”
“I’m not staying up till midnight. What a bunch of foolery,” Audra sniped ungraciously, like it was she was the one being invited. Cal’s eyes met Vic’s in shared amusement.
“That sounds wonderful,” Vic said sincerely. “What’s the plan?”
“Actually, if it’s okay with you, I want it to be a surprise. Is that okay?”
“Can you give me a hint? Should I dress up?”
Cal’s eyes heated. “I always love it when you dress up—but I love it when you wear sweatpants too.”
“Oh, very helpful,” Vic teased.
“Dress up,” he said. “But bring a change of comfortable clothes.”