Change of Heart (The Flanagan Sisters, #2) (19 page)

People watched her go. She had a presence about her, even when she wasn’t in business mode. Today he’d convinced her not to straighten her hair, and she was wearing the traditional dress as well, so she blended right in. It was such a change. She seemed a little more relaxed than normal.

Seeing Zita walk out of the house, Evan stood up. “Excuse me a moment,” he said to Teresa and walked over. “How’s it going, Z?”

Her face showed no trace of her tears, but her eyes held so much sadness.

“I’m fine.”

He hugged her. “You can always talk to me if you need to. Feel free to come and chill at my house any time.”

She hugged him back. “Thanks, Evan. It was a bit of a shock, is all.”

Evan didn’t think that was all, but he didn’t push it. Zita would come around if she needed to talk. Sometimes she visited him when she needed a bit of peace and quiet. “I’m here for you.”

“I know.”

He gave her another hug and then returned to his seat. What he’d said was true. He
was
there for her, just as she’d be there for him. Aside from his brother, he’d never had anyone he could rely on before. Not that Zita really needed him. She had such a wonderful community around her, a support network he envied.

Teresa gave him a shy smile as he sat. He didn’t know what she’d said to Carly after she’d brought out the sketch pad, but she seemed a little happier. “The meeting at the art center is tomorrow,” he said. “You should come.”

She nodded, but he wasn’t certain she’d understood. He’d have to tell Zita as well.

Not long after, Carmen, Zita and Carly carried out massive bowls of food and placed them on the table.

“Looks like it’s lunch time,” said Evan. It smelled incredible.

Teresa stood. “I will help.”

Evan tucked his pencils back in their case and carried his sketchbook inside. Then he went to see how he could help too.

***

C
arly woke on Monday morning with her head feeling like cotton wool. She hadn’t drunk that much at the celebration, but perhaps it was because she’d been on her feet for most of the day. She shut off her alarm.

“Thank Christ. What time is it?” Evan groaned.

“It’s five. Go back to sleep. I’ll get ready and go.” She hadn’t been able to resist the invitation to stay at Evan’s, but now she needed to leave as soon as possible to deal with the traffic.

“I’ll make you breakfast,” he said, but didn’t move.

Carly smiled and kissed his cheek. “Don’t bother. I’ll pick up something at the office.”

She got out of bed, and by the time she’d reached the door, he was fast asleep. She chuckled. No, he definitely wasn’t a morning person.

The shower did little to clear her head, and her muscles felt a little achy as well. Absolutely too much time on her feet.

In the kitchen, McClane opened a sleepy eye, wagged his tail once and fell back asleep. Like owner, like pet.

The drive to work was long and Carly seemed to catch every red light. Her eyes were heavy and she focused every bit of energy on the road. By the time she arrived, she was exhausted. She’d never been so tired after a Day of the Dead celebration.

She changed into the spare set of clothes she kept in her office, and as she turned on her computer her cell phone rang. It was Hayden.

“Carolina, I’m buying bagels to celebrate my return to health, do you want some?”

The mention of food made her stomach roll. “No, thanks. I’ll see you when you get here.”

She hung up and stared at the screen for a moment, trying to remember what she was doing. That’s right, email. Opening her email she reviewed her messages.

***

S
ometime later Hayden walked into the office. “Morning, Carolina.”

Carly blinked. She’d only read the first email in her inbox. She glanced at Hayden. He was as well-dressed and perky as usual. There wasn’t any hint he’d had the flu.

“Morning. I’m glad you’re better. I missed you.”

He grinned. “What can I say? I’m one of a kind.”

She nodded. “I gave up on temps after the first one was a failure and Mama offered to come in.”

“Your mother?”

Damn it. She wasn’t going to tell him that. She wasn’t thinking properly. “Yes. I was desperate.”

“I wish I’d met her.”

Carly shook her head. “I’m not sure what she might have done to your computer, so don’t be too enthusiastic until you’ve checked it out.”

She shouldn’t have said that either.

Hayden squinted at her. “Are you feeling all right? You look a little pale, and with your skin tone, that’s some feat.”

Carly ran a hand over her forehead. “I’m fine, just a little tired. I’d better get to work.”

Hayden left and she leaned back in her chair. It was too much effort to sit up straight.

“Carolina?” Hayden’s loud call had Carly sitting up straight in her chair again.

“What?” She looked around, but he wasn’t in her office. It must have been the intercom. Before she could answer him, he was at the door.

“Geez, Carolina, you look like death warmed up. You must be coming down with what I had. You should go home.”

Carly shook her head briefly and closed her eyes to stop the dizziness. “I have meetings.”

“I’ll cancel them.”

“No, I’ll be fine.”

Hayden hesitated, and then he put his hands on his hips. “If you don’t go home, I’ll call your mother.”

Carly frowned. “You don’t know my mother.”

Hayden grinned. “She left me a lovely note, with her contact details, and told me to call if I had any questions about the work she’d done.”

Carly groaned. She did
not
need that. “You can’t call her.” She’d never be able to get rid of her. Carmen had a way of smothering her children when they were sick. It definitely made them get better more quickly.

“I can and I will if you don’t go home. Seriously, Carly, if you’ve got what I had, you need to go to bed. It knocked the hell out of me.”

There was too much she needed to do. She couldn’t be sick. “I’m fine. I’ll take a couple of pills.” She went to stand up, but her balance was off and she stumbled, grabbing hold of her desk.

“I’ll take you home myself,” Hayden said, hurrying to help her.

She didn’t have the energy to protest. She pried off her high heels and sat back down again. “I need my laptop.”

“You won’t be able to use it,” Hayden said.

“Pack it anyway.” The nausea was getting worse. Hayden was right, she had to go home. One day in bed wouldn’t hurt.

Hayden did as she asked and then helped her to the elevator. She leaned on him far more than she intended to. He drove home in her car and then accompanied her up to her apartment. She was too weak to protest.

“Which way to the bedroom?” he asked.

She pointed and he helped her into the room.

“I’m going to get you some water and some pills. Have you got a medicine cabinet somewhere?”

“In the kitchen above the oven.”

“All right. You get changed and into bed.”

With intense concentration, Carly managed to change into a tank top and boxer shorts and slip under the covers.

“Are you decent?” Hayden called.

“Yes.”

He walked in and gave her the pills and a glass of water. She swallowed them carefully.

“Trust me, Carolina. Go straight to sleep. I’ll sort out all your appointments. You call me if you need anything.” He went to leave.

“Thank you, Hayden.”

He turned and smiled. “We all need a little help sometimes.”

Not her. She was the one who helped everyone else.

She fell asleep before he left the apartment.

E
van was in a great mood as he wandered into the local arts center. As much as he made fun of Isobella and Desmond, he did enjoy coming down and talking with the different artists about art: new techniques they’d discovered, new media to explore and new canvases. He liked to keep on top of what was happening around the place.

The moment he arrived, Isobella pounced. “Evan, we haven’t seen you since the exhibition. It went really well for you, didn’t it?”

He swallowed his groan. “Yes, it did. You sold a painting too, I hear.”

“Of course.”

Desmond joined them. “Evan, good to see you. We wanted to talk to you about the proposal.”

“What proposal?”

“The one for Carolina Flanagan. She asked us to submit a proposal about her becoming a patron of the center.”

He’d forgotten about that. “Why do you need me?”

She waved a bit of newspaper in front of him. “You went to the gala ball with her. I thought you might be able to put in a good word for us.” Isobella smiled at him.

He controlled his initial reaction, which was to tell them to go to hell, and reached for the newspaper. The social pages had a clear picture of him dancing with Carly, his hand brushing her back. The jolt of surprise was unpleasant. He’d not even noticed a photographer, too caught up in Carly, and now their intimate moment was in the paper for all to see. He handed the article back to Isobella. “I have nothing to do with the way Carolina runs her business. I suggest you submit the proposal directly to her.”

“But we don’t know how to write one. We’re
artists
!” Isobella said.

“Then I suggest you google it,” he said, walking past. How dare they use his relationship with Carly to get what they wanted?

“Evan, this is your art center too. Don’t you want it to flourish?” Desmond asked.

“It’s doing fine, as far as I can see.”

“Don’t you want to just be able to create?” Isobella asked. “Not to have to work, but spend your time being creative.”

“I already do,” he told her.

She gaped at him. “How? Is Carolina supporting you?”

He glared at her. “I’ve been making a living from my artwork since I was a teenager. I take all the jobs I can get.” He walked off.

Desmond and Isobella didn’t deserve any of Carly’s help. They weren’t willing to help themselves. They saw their work as masterpieces, took months to perfect one piece, and wouldn’t consider having more than one work going at the same time. It was no wonder they couldn’t support themselves. He thought about the three paintings he had in his studio, each at a different stage of completion. Each suited a different mood, and all were not far from finished.

He moved away and scanned the room. Two women walked through the door and he smiled, striding over to them.

“Zita, Teresa. I’m glad you came.” He kissed both Zita’s cheeks and smiled at Teresa.

“Thanks for suggesting it.”

“I can introduce Teresa around and bring her home afterward, if you like. Save you coming out again.”

Zita glanced at Teresa, who looked a little alarmed. “I’ll stick around. Who knows, art may be something I’m good at.”

The coordinator called the meeting to order and they took their seats. The agenda was always the same – a member would demonstrate a new technique, people would try it themselves, and then they would continue with their own work, swapping news with whoever was there. Today’s technique was painting using a squeeze bottle. It was an interesting concept, but not one that excited Evan. He’d brought his sketchpad with him, and he sketched as people around him chatted. Teresa sat beside him, and her drawing of the gathering was fantastic. It almost looked like a photo. Beside her, Zita was chatting to the person next to her.

“Zita, darling, how are you? I must thank you again for arranging the exhibition for us.”

Evan’s eyes narrowed as Isobella hugged Zita.

“I’m glad it was a success,” Zita said.

“Absolutely. With your sister supporting it, how could it not be? That’s why we asked her to be our patron.”

Evan gritted his teeth. Where was Isobella heading with this?

“Really? That’s great. Did she say yes?”

Isobella pouted. “Actually, she wants us to write a proposal. I’m not sure why she’d think artists would know how to write a business proposal.”

“Oh.” Zita looked a little unsure. “I’ll talk to her if you like.”

Isobella beamed.

“No.” The word was short and sharp. Both women turned to him. “Carly asked for a proposal and so you’ll give her a proposal. You shouldn’t be asking Zita so you can get out of some work.” He turned to Zita. “I know you’re trying to help, but you’re not helping Carly. You’re adding more work to her already full workload.”

Zita bit her lip and Isobella glared at him.

“How would you know?” Isobella demanded.

He ignored her question. Didn’t Zita realize how much Carly worked, how hard she tried to give everyone something, and yet never took any time for herself? People like Isobella should be struck straight off the list because they were too lazy or self-important to do what was asked of them. It wasn’t right.

“Not all of us are able to sleep with her to get what we want.” Isobella realized she’d said the wrong thing immediately, as she slapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide.

The room had gone silent.

His anger was swift but he controlled it, getting to his feet. She didn’t deserve any response. He gathered his things and walked out.

Behind him, Zita said, “How dare you? You’re insulting both Evan and my sister. Don’t come asking me for favors anymore.”

He’d reached the car when Zita called out.

“Evan, wait.”

He breathed slowly out before he turned. Zita hurried up to him, Teresa hanging back. He felt bad for the girl. The art center might have been good for her.

“What do you mean I’d be adding to Carly’s workload?” she asked. “I was just going to ask her a question.”

He shook his head. She had no idea how this worked. “Z, why do you think Carly asked for the proposal?”

Zita shook her head.

“Because she knows most people will find it’s too hard and won’t bother. If they
do
bother, she can get Hayden to review it for her. If you ask her, it’s back on her plate and she has to deal with it directly. She already works way too much.”

“I never realized. She never said anything.”

“That’s because she loves you too much to say no. You do know the only day she takes off each month is when she goes to your place for lunch?”