Everything We Keep: A Novel (7 page)

“I evaluated your application. You have plenty of funds in your bank accounts, but your credit has some issues. Your recent mortgage payments have been late and, unfortunately, your credit rating has taken a big hit.”

I cringed. “Let me explain—”

“I was really hoping everything would check out for you, especially since you’re a friend of Joe’s. I can’t recommend your application to him, and I now have three other qualified applicants.”

I sank onto the chair in my dressing cubby. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Can you get a cosigner, someone with a better credit rating?”

I thought of my parents even though I wanted to do this on my own. Then I remembered their questionable credit history. They’d had trouble making payments to their suppliers. “I’m not sure. I would need more time.”

“I’m afraid time is not something I have. The lease will probably go to another applicant this afternoon, tomorrow morning at the latest. Good luck finding a site. Have a lovely weekend.”

Brenda hung up. I released a long sigh and stared at the ceiling.

Nadia banged on the door and I jolted. “Hello in there? Are you ready?”

“Give me a second.” I slipped off the dress and pulled on my T-shirt.

“Did you pick one?”

I tossed the A-line over the door.

“Nice!” She cooed. “Love it.”

I swore I heard her say that Ian would love it, too, as she left the dressing room.

CHAPTER 7

Nadia picked me up at eight for the gallery’s opening. She was stunning in a sheath dress, the earthy color resembling dried lavender. Her auburn hair, parted on the side, skimmed her shoulders. Smokey liner framed emerald eyes and clear gloss highlighted her full lips.

She twirled an index finger and I turned around, the A-line skirt floating outward from my legs. I’d shaped my curls, twisting the loose waves high on my head, leaving a few tendrils to frame my face. I hadn’t been this dressed up since James’s funeral.

Nadia grinned. “Tell me if I’m wrong, but don’t you feel good? You look amazing.”

I twisted an errant corkscrew around my finger. “I’m nervous.”

She pushed aside my hand and touched up my hair. “I have only one request.”

“What’s that?”

“Have fun.”

I sighed. “I’ll try.”

She exhaled and raised her eyes toward the ceiling. “It helps to smile.” She moved back and assessed me from head to closed-toe pump. “You look beautiful.”

The corner of my mouth tugged upward.

“Much better,” she exclaimed.

We parked two blocks from the gallery. The night air was crisp and I adjusted the wrap around my shoulders. Light spilled from the windows and faint notes of soft jazz drifted from the door.
Belize Sunrise
still took center stage in the front window. The $2,750 price tag was new.

My mouth fell open.

Nadia gave me a funny look. “What?”

I tapped the window above the price tag. “He must be damn good.”

“He is. Wait until you see his other work.” She held the door open for us. “You coming?”

Guests crowded the gallery floor. Waiters carefully navigated through Ian’s fans, balancing trays laden with champagne flutes and canapés.

My gaze fixed on Ian in the corner of the main viewing room. He slipped his hands into the side pockets of his dark pants and bent his head toward the woman beside him. A burnished lock fell over his brow. I watched his hand slowly rise to sweep over his head while nodding along to whatever the woman shared with him. My stomach tumbled like his hair and I frowned at my reaction.

Nadia elbowed my ribs. “Don’t forget to smile.”

I pasted on a grin.

Wendy swept across the room. “Nadia, I’ve been looking for you.”

“Hello, Wendy.” She angled her head to receive Wendy’s air kisses, then touched my shoulder. “You remember my friend Aimee?”

Wendy shook my hand. “So glad you decided to come. Please enjoy yourself, have a glass of champagne.” She motioned toward a passing waiter before turning her attention back to Nadia. “A dear friend of mine loves what you’ve done for my gallery. He’s a commercial property broker and wants to meet you.”

“Do you mind?” Nadia asked me.

“Not at all. Go ahead.”

Wendy directed me to the left side of the gallery. “Start over here to experience the full effect of the exhibit. I’ve arranged Ian’s photos so the sun rises then sets as you circle the room. His photography is impressive. Be sure to see me if you want to purchase anything.” She hooked her arm around Nadia and they wandered behind the first set of partitions.

I removed my wrap, folding the knit rectangle over my arm, and meandered through the gallery. Each image featured the sun rising or setting in an exotic, foreign locale. Ian had played with the light, and the colors reflected on a hillside, across a lake’s surface, or through tall firs in a forest had a magical, surreal quality.

I paused before one image, an intense sun in a fiery descent over Middle Eastern sand dunes. The picture had been taken in Dubai, according to the tag on the wall. Three camels stood motionless on the crest of a dune, their shadows long fingers spreading outward across sands of vivid orange and gold.

“What do you think?”

A smile played on my lips. “You have an extraordinary talent for capturing sunlight.” I lifted my eyes to Ian.

His gaze met mine. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me, too.”

His forehead creased. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

I shifted the wrap to my other arm. “OK.”

He pushed the wrap aside, exposing my left hand. He angled my ring finger so the overhead spotlights captured the brilliance of my engagement ring. “Why didn’t you tell me you are married?”

“Because,” I hesitated, licked my lips, “I’m not.”

He tugged the wrap back in place. “Engaged?”

I shook my head.

“I’m sorry things didn’t work out for you,” he said evenly.

I pulled my hand from his and faced the photograph so he wouldn’t see the tears filling my eyes. I didn’t want his sympathy, but I could feel him study me as I admired his work. “When did you take this picture?”

He chuckled. “Two years ago.”

I gave him a sidelong glance. “What’s so funny?”

He dipped his head, hiding a smile.

“I bet you have a story for every picture.”

He rubbed his jaw. “Yes, I do.”

I waited for an explanation. He watched me with a secret smile. I folded my arms. “One of these days I’ll get that story out of you.”

His eyes crinkled. “I hope you do.”

He glanced around the packed gallery. The noise had risen, more boisterous with the free-flowing champagne. I saw Wendy with a tablet, hurriedly tapping her index finger around the screen with what I assumed to be an order. Ian leaned close to my ear. “Anything I can tempt you to take home?”

You.

The thought stormed into my head and brought an image of Ian kissing me. My face heated and he quirked a brow. I blinked rapidly and cleared my throat. “You know which one I like.”

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. “
Belize Sunrise
.”

“Sorry, but I don’t have enough spare change.”

“Happy birthday, Aimee!” Nadia announced beside me. I jerked in her direction.

Ian stepped back to widen our circle. Nadia offered me champagne. I groaned, taking the glass from her. She handed another to Ian.

“Today’s your birthday?” he asked.

“Tomorrow, actually.” I gave Nadia the evil eye. “I was hoping you’d forget.”

She lifted a glass from a passing tray. “A toast to the birthday girl.”

“Stop . . .”

“Let me have my fun,” she griped.

“Happy birthday,” Ian toasted.

“Thank you.”

He kept his gaze focused on me over the rim of his champagne flute as he drank. Hiding a grin, Nadia hummed into her stemware, her eyes jumping from me to Ian.

Wendy approached. “Sorry to interrupt, but I need to steal the main attraction.”

Ian set down his glass on a nearby high table. “Don’t leave without saying good-bye,” he said as Wendy whisked him away.

Nadia tracked their departure. “Damn, he looks good. Too bad he had eyes only for you. I mean, they were glued on you. I felt like the third wheel on my Townie.”

“Your bike has only two wheels.”

“As I was saying.” She chin-pointed across the room. I glanced over and saw Ian surrounded by a small group of admirers looking at me. A hint of a smile appeared before he glanced away, his attention turning to the man beside him.

Toward the end of the evening, Nadia found me admiring
Belize Sunrise
. “Gorgeous,” she murmured. “Hey, Mr. Property Broker and I are grabbing a bite to eat. Join us.”

“So I can be the third wheel on your Townie? Not a chance.”

She laughed. “It’s not like that.”

“Uh-huh. I’ll walk home.”

“Don’t be silly. I’ll drop you off.”

“I’ll walk with you.” Ian’s voice brushed over me.

Nadia grinned. “Even better.”

“Do you mind?” he asked me.

“If it’s not inconvenient.”

He shook his head and tugged at his collar. “I need the fresh air.”

“Then it’s settled. I’m off.” Nadia hugged me and shook Ian’s hand. “Great show.”

“Give me a minute. I need to let Wendy know I’m leaving,” Ian said when Nadia left.

While waiting, I took a final, long glance at my favorite piece. Someone had turned the photograph away from the window to face the gallery interior. The price tag had been replaced with a new one, the word
sold
written in bold, black lettering.

Ian returned. “You look disappointed. Why so glum?”

I pointed at the tag. “I’m happy you made a sale, but I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t a little bummed.”

He spied the tag. “Hmm, interesting,” he murmured as he rested his palm against my lower back and ushered us outside. “Which way?”

“Eight blocks that way.” I motioned to our left, then unfolded the wrap around my shoulders.

“Any plans for the big day tomorrow?” he asked as we walked.

I shook my head. “Staying home. Maybe dinner with some friends.”

“I spent my twenty-ninth birthday hiding from crocodiles in the Everglades.”

I laughed. “That’s not my idea of a good time.”

“I took some amazing pictures, though. Let’s see.” He scratched his chin. “On my thirtieth I spent the entire day on the back of a mule in the Andes of Peru.”

“Let me guess, you spent the night sitting in a bucket of ice?”

He laughed. “No, but close. My ass was sore for a week.”

We crossed the street and walked another block. “Any more birthdays I should know about? Or do they stop at thirty?”

“That’s all for now.” He directed us into a dimly lit alcove.

“What are we doing?”

“Celebrating your birthday.” He held open the door and followed me inside. We were at La Petite Maison, a French restaurant. He held up two fingers for the hostess. “Two for coffee and dessert.”

The hostess led us to a small table beside the lace-trimmed front window. Ian pushed in my chair for me, then whispered to the hostess before she handed us menus and left.

I glanced at the white-clothed tables and crystal lanterns delicately linked overhead. “For some reason, I don’t picture you eating here often.”

“Never been here.” He turned in his chair and checked the space around us. He had a wicked grin when he looked back at me. “Not my first choice, but it’s open.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s almost eleven.”

The waiter arrived a few moments later with our coffees.

“This smells good.” My eyes drifted low as I breathed in the warm, roasted aroma.

Ian sipped and shrugged. “It’s OK.”

“Not up to your standards? No wait.” I held up my hand. “You can do better.” I shook my head. “I don’t know, Ian. All this talk and no action.”

His eyes brightened. “Our bet’s still on,” he reminded.

“Actually . . .” I ran my hands across the table. “There’ve been some developments on my end.”

He quirked a brow.

“The coffee shop idea has been,” I paused for effect, “percolating.”

“Nice!” He grinned. “Are you going to lease Joe’s?”

“Maybe.” I gnawed my lip. Ever since Brenda’s call, I’d deliberated asking Thomas to cosign, or perhaps Nadia and Kristen should Thomas decline. If Joe had refused me, other leasers would, too.

“I wish you the best of luck, Aimee. Let me know when you’re ready to find out who’s the true brewmaster between us.”

Does he honestly think he can brew better coffee than me?
I thought, recalling our conversation at lunch earlier this week.

“Definitely,” I agreed.

Our waitress returned with a red velvet cupcake. A single lit candle flamed in the center.

“What’s this for?” I asked.

“Your birthday. Make a wish.”

I smiled and closed my eyes, picturing my café with the logo painted on the sign above the door. Then I opened my eyes, and right before I blew out the candle, James popped into my mind along with the words the psychic had once told me.
He’s still alive.

I sputtered and coughed.

Ian pulled the candle from the cupcake. “Uh-oh, your age is showing.”

A short time later, Ian walked home with me, and when we reached the porch I thanked him for the cupcake.

The porch light gave him a mysterious quality, highlighting the sharp angles of his face. A day’s growth dusted his jaw. “I enjoyed tonight. And”—he flashed a smile—“I think I’m going to miss you.” He ducked his chin as if caught off guard by the revelation.

“Really? Why?”

“I leave in a few days for a photo expedition.”

The keys rattled in my hand. “How long will you be gone?” I asked softly.

“Ten days.”

My mouth twitched. “That’s a terribly long time.”

“An eternity,” he teased. He stepped closer to me. “I hope to see you when I get back.”

“I’d like that. I had fun tonight.”

“Me, too.” He brushed his fingers across my cheek. “Maybe Joe’s Coffee House will be on its way to becoming Aimee’s when I return.”

My cheek felt warm where he’d touched me. “Maybe.”

His gaze lowered to my mouth, lingering for a brief moment. A small gasp escaped my lips. He chuckled softly. “Good night, Aimee.”

“Good night, Ian.”

I watched him jog across the street. As he rounded the corner toward downtown, I touched my lips. Ian had wanted to kiss me.