Beach Rental (20 page)

Chapter Twenty-Four

Juli dropped by the gallery at the end of September. Maia waved at her when she came through the door.

“Want to get lunch?” Juli asked.

Maia spread her arms as if to encompass all of the displays and said, “I have no help today. None. Brendan doesn’t come in until this evening.” She stapled a couple of receipts together and stowed them under the counter. “If you don’t mind sharing my chicken salad sandwich, we can do lunch in the back room. With the door open, I’ll be able to hear the bell.”

“I doubt you brought enough for two. I’ll go down the block and get some takeout if you can wait?”

“Sounds perfect. Lunch in the back room when you return. I could use a sweet tea with lemon, if you don’t mind?”

“Got it. Be back soon.”

There was a small table in the back room. The door to the room was adjacent to Luke’s office door. His office was open; he wasn’t in.

Maia positioned her chair near the door. She could watch the gallery and hear the bell ring if someone entered the front door. She took a sip of tea and unwrapped her sandwich. She stared down at her sandwich, then looked at Juli’s. “Is that a cheeseburger and fries?”

Juli nodded, chewing.

“How do you stay so slim eating like that?” Maia patted her hip. “I keep saying I’ll work this extra padding off.” She sighed.

The bell rang. Maia did a quick chew and swallow of what she’d already bitten off and, wiping her mouth with a napkin, took off to greet the customer.

After a couple of minutes Juli peeked around the corner of the door. Maia was lifting a painting from the wall and a man was standing nearby. As Juli was turning back, the door to the alley opened.

“Luke. Hi.”

He smiled, caught by surprise, but it looked genuine and she responded in kind. Briefly, they stayed as they were, sharing the moment, until Juli felt a nibble of fear. This was lovely. But dangerous.

“Is Maia with a customer?” His voice was low.

His tone was almost conspiratorial, personal, and it gave her a shiver.

Juli nodded toward the gallery. “Yes.”

“I’d like to ask you something. I know it’s early, but you might want some time to consider it.”

“What?”

“Thanksgiving. It’s in a couple of months. I’d like you to share it with my family. My mother cooks a fantastic turkey dinner.”

Thanksgiving? Ridiculous. This was still September. More than that, why would anyone think she should share a holiday meal with the Winters? She forced the words out. They sounded harsher than intended. “I met them once. Your parents. At the funeral.”

“I know. Please understand they only knew what they were told. About you, I mean. If Ben, if the marriage, had lasted longer, they would’ve gotten to know you for themselves. They’re good people, Juli. Whatever negative things people thought of you—whatever judgments they made—blame those on me.”

She stared at the table, at the crumbs littering the white paper in which the grill had wrapped the burger.

“Think about it? I hope you can forgive me for making judgments, for acting on my emotions about Ben to your detriment. I’ve already told you I believe you were good for Ben and he was lucky to find you. I’m sorry it took me so long to see it and admit it. I hope you’ll forgive me and give the rest of the family a chance.”

She wanted to say, “Does it matter?” Instead, she closed her lips before the incredulous words could be voiced.

Luke’s smile was slight, but sincere as he nodded his head and went into his office.

Juli sniffled and blinked her eyes. She wouldn’t cry. This wasn’t the place for it.

“I’m back.” Maia reclaimed her chair and her sandwich. “A sale and a happy customer.” She frowned. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

Luke closed his office door and the latch clicked.

Juli leaned forward and whispered, “He mentioned Thanksgiving.”

Maia looked confused. She whispered back. “That’s two months away. Why are we whispering?”

“Never mind. We’ll talk about it another time.”

“Whatever you say. Can I stop whispering now?” Her dimples bloomed.

“Yes, please. Now tell me about your sale.”

“Never mind the sale. What I need is reliable help.” She stopped for a moment, then added, “And a boyfriend, a reliable one.” She sipped her tea.

“Luke has a good prospect for a new manager down in Charleston. I don’t have to tell you how badly he needs someone there who can handle the larger responsibilities. I was afraid he’d never move forward with it, but he actually talked to the guy on his last trip down there. I‘m so relieved.” She crumpled her trash. “You know, I should’ve thought of this before. I wonder if you’d mind helping me out?”

“With what? Finding a reliable boyfriend?”

“No, silly. I need help with the gallery for the Roundtree showing.”

“You mean like working at the gallery?” She could think of worse jobs, but she wasn’t looking for work just now, and certainly not retail. She’d had her fill of customers, enough to last for a lifetime.

“No, well, sort of, yes. We have a show, an open house for a new local artist. It’s coming up in a couple of weeks and, for the most part, we’re set, but it’s the prep time before. See, we close the gallery early and then have to move a lot of the etcetera stuff out of the way. We need the floor space, plus it should look more elegant than seashells crafted into sea creatures with googley eyes will allow.”

“Count me in. I’m happy to help.”

She waved her hands at the ceiling. “We have to pack it up and move it upstairs. It’s a lot of up and down.” She sipped her tea. “It’s always a big rush, but we have to be careful, too. Willing hands are a big help.”

****

When Maia telephoned in mid-October, she said, “If you can get here around two o’clock, we’ll have time to clear the gallery floor, spruce it up, then leave to get ourselves dolled up. Bring your outfit with you—it’s fancy dress—and we’ll get changed over at my place.”

“Maia, I can’t.” Juli stumbled over the words.

“Oh. Something came up? No problem, I’ve got a couple of other people I can ask.”

“No, wait. You misunderstand. I’ll help get the gallery set up for the showing, but I can’t attend the festivities.”

Maia’s voice rose. “What do you mean, you can’t attend?”

“Think about it. Ben has been gone two months. How will it look?”

Juli heard a groan through the receiver, then Maia said, “I see your point, but is that your only concern?”

“What do you mean?”

“Not because you’re shy or feel…you know.”

“Because I won’t feel good enough or accepted?”

“Acceptance works both ways, Juli.”

“What do you mean by that?” She waved her free hand as if someone could see it. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. Bottom line, Ben’s memory deserves better. Didn’t you say that once?”

“The situation was a little different. Still, I understand. Two months a widow. We know Ben would want you to enjoy yourself, but it may provoke others to ask questions about things that are none of their business.”

“Don’t pout. You’ll get wrinkles.”

“How do you know I’m pouting? You can’t see me. And, anyway, I’m disappointed.”

“I’ll help get the gallery floor cleared and get the decorations up and then discreetly disappear.”

Maia grumbled.

Juli said, “I’m glad it matters to you, but face it, we’re both marshmallows. If I’m there, and one curious question is asked about Ben, we’ll both sob. Think of what it’ll do to our makeup. Not good for business at all.”

“Yeah, we’ll be soggy, wrinkled marshmallows. Not good on a lot of levels.”

****

Juli showed up in her jeans and a lightweight cotton shirt, ready to work.

Maia led her to one of the round display tables in the middle of the gallery floor. “Thank goodness, you’re here. Brendan cancelled. He’s got an upset stomach or something. Do you think it’s an excuse? I hope he’s telling the truth. He’s been very reliable. If he’s turning into a slacker, well, I can’t deal with it.”

“He’s probably sick. I thought I was coming down with an upset stomach, too, but it passed. Must be a virus going around.” Juli noted boxes with white packing paper were near the display tables. She picked up one of the shell sea-creatures and wiggled his eyes.

“I’ve got a neighbor coming to help. He’ll be here any minute.” She pointed to one of the boxes. “Wrap these loosely in paper, then put them in this other, empty box.”

“He?”

“He’s seventeen.”

“Not exactly boyfriend material.” Juli handled the seashell creatures gently. The box, when full, weighed little. She carried it to the foot of the stairs.

“Our helper will carry the boxes up.” Maia was wrapping the seashell frames when she heard a knock. She rushed to the door. “George. Hey, welcome.”

Tall and lanky, George looked strong and shy.

“Juli, excuse us for a minute. I have to explain to George what I need him to do.”

Juli finished up the frames, then moved on to other items. She found it peaceful working in the quiet of the closed gallery. She looked around the room and allowed herself a moment of fantasy, imagining her artwork hung on these walls. Perhaps one day she’d have a showing and people would dress up to attend. She’d be gracious and elegant…and the paintings—

“Juli? Are you here with me? You look far away.”

“Daydreaming. Did you say something?”

Maia gave her a closer look and seemed satisfied. “As you empty the display tables, George will disassemble the ones we won’t need and carry them up.”

George was a quiet and willing worker. Juli continued wrapping items and stowing them in the boxes while George helped Maia swap out some of the paintings and larger items from the walls. Not everything would be the work of the one artist, but the prime space on the main wall would be solely his work.

As George carried the last boxes upstairs, Juli noticed Maia checked her watch again.

She waved at Maia. “Go. I can finish this up and then I’ll leave.”

“The caterer is a small outfit. They’ll be here any minute.”

“I can let them in.” She didn’t care if she knew the caterers. That must be some kind of progress.

“You can, thanks.” Maia said. “George?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Don’t leave Mrs. Bradshaw here alone, please.”

“No, ma’am.”

“There’s a vacuum in the closet, George. Will you run it? When the caterer arrives, you can leave. Make sure they’re set, though, before you go? Call me if they forget the food or something.”

Julie said, “I’m laughing, right?”

“Keep your fingers crossed and call me if there’s a problem.”

“I promise.” She was tempted to salute, but Maia looked too tense to appreciate a joke.

Maia vanished and soon thereafter the caterers arrived, with the food and with no one she knew. Juli spoke with them to verify they had what they needed, then left them to their work.

She took a last look around the main gallery floor. The featured artist was a fabulous watercolorist. Some of his paintings were hung on the walls, others stood on easels. She found one last bit of litter behind an easel. She paused in the back room to drop it into the trash can. The door opened and daylight spilled in. Luke entered and shut the door behind him.

“You look very nice,” she said. His tux was broad through the shoulders and emphasized his lean looks. She remembered him looking much the same at the party many months ago—the night she’d met Ben.

He tugged at his cuffs. “Thanks. It’s very kind of you to help. You’re welcome to stay.”

“Maia and I discussed it.”

“I know. I understand the reasoning, but I don’t think your presence would’ve been a problem.”

She shrugged. “I’ll slip away now. I hope the showing goes smoothly.” She started toward the door where Luke stood. “Oops, I almost forgot my stuff.” She turned back to the counter and grabbed her purse and sunglasses.

Luke moved away from the door as a caterer came in asking a question about the set up. He directed his attention to the white-jacketed woman and Juli slipped out the back.

It was a beautiful evening and still early. She strolled along the uneven bricks of the sidewalk, smelling the water from the marina across the street, feeling the dry autumn breeze. She had no plans and no need to rush home. She stopped in front of a restaurant a short distance down from the gallery and decided to step in for supper.

The service was slow, but she didn’t mind. She had a decent view of most of the street, though not of the gallery itself since it was on the same side of the street. Through the window, she watched people moving along the walk, some elegantly dressed. They passed by in conversation with each other. No one she knew, but they had to be guests arriving for the showing.

Ben would’ve enjoyed it. The gallery showing, as well as watching the street show. He had a talent for seeing the best in everyone and enjoying every occasion. Did have a talent. Past tense.