Love Makes the Difference (Sully Point Book 1) (9 page)

"I don't know how you did this, the light on dark
waves, keeping some of the color even though it's so dark, there is a shining
quality to it all, the sparkle of the sand against water, the greenery of the
forest looming so close..."

"I remember painting that wasn't easy, but I had fun
with it."

"Yes! There is a joy in it that I sense and an
expansiveness of thought. I think this would be good for me to look at when I'm
stumped or blocked because it opens up the mind to possibilities."

Anna felt somewhat uncomfortable as he talked about the
painting. Honestly, she didn't remember feeling all these things he described,
yet that is what came across to him.

He stopped talking and looked at her face. "Let me
guess. You didn't have all this in mind when you painted it, right?"

She gasped. "How did you know that?"

He laughed ruefully. "Tell me something, what do you
like about my detective series? I noticed you have quite a few of them on your
bookshelves. What makes you keep buying new ones?"

"They're so well-written. You take the reader into each
character, you show us how they think and feel without losing sight of the
story. You offer hope even when the situation is dire, even when Maurice is at
his lowest. It's that hope I think that brings people back time and again."

"Would it surprise you to hear that when I sit down to
write my books, I don't think about giving hope to people? That all I think
about is telling a good story?"

Her face lit up. "Ah, I get it. So it's not so strange that
you see more in my paintings than what I meant to paint."

"That's right. Anna, with art, any kind of art, we put
ourselves into it but what comes out is more than the sum of all parts, more
than the brushstrokes or words. We put feelings and dreams into motion. We
transcend ourselves, if we are lucky. Then we give our art to the world, to
another person, and what they see in it, what they bring to it, what meaning
they find is a gift. To us and to them. The true artist brings more than
himself or herself into the work without even knowing it. The painting, the
book, is but a reflection, a tiny part of that magnificence we draw upon."

Anna stared at him. "You are amazing, Sam Carter. I've
never heard it said like that before."

He smiled at her. "I've never said it like that before.
So, do you approve of my selection?"

"Yes, very much."

"All right, do you have a figure in mind?" When
she looked at him questioningly he grinned. "Money, Anna, the paycheck at
the end of the rainbow."

"Oh no, I hadn't thought...."

"Okay, how about...twenty-five thousand?"

"Dollars?" she squeaked.

"Yes."

"No!"

"Too little?"

"Way too much."

"Okay how about twenty thousand."

"Sam!"

They haggled back and forth for a half hour while drinking
their coffee, laughing at each other and generally having a great time. By the
end of it, she agreed to take eight thousand dollars for the painting simply
because he refused to go any lower.

"This is great. Now I can contribute more to the loft
renovation."

Sam frowned. "Anna, won't you use it to buy yourself
anything?"

"Like what?"

"Hmm. I'm not sure how to say this without sounding
rude. Have you thought about buying some new clothes? Some makeup? Jewelry? Any
of that?"

She felt hurt. All he'd said about liking who she was--had
that been a lie?

"Whoa, whoa, Anna, hold on--I can tell from your face
that I've said this wrong. I didn't mean it as a criticism. I just meant that
you should do some things for yourself, not only your loft. It's about taking
care of yourself, that's all. I'll love you no matter what, but--"

"You'll
what?
" Anna said, voice very quiet.

"Man, did I just say that out loud?"

She nodded, eyes opened wide staring at him.

"I--hmm, I don't seem to know what to say." Sam
stood up from where he'd been sitting next to her and began pacing. Several
minutes went by in total silence. Finally he said, "I guess I've known for
a while that I was falling in love with you."

"But--but--" she spluttered.

"I know it seems like it's too fast to you. I get that.
The thing is I don't think I've ever felt this way before for anyone--not even
my first love in high school. Somehow between the cookies and the painting and
being around you, it crept up on me."

"Wait!" Anna finally got the word out. "You
can't be in love with me! That's impossible, I mean, you're you and I'm me and
you're all gorgeous and smart and funny and I'm just a plain Jane who dabbles
in art and--"

Sam strode across the room to her and raised her up off the
couch. Placing his hands on her shoulders he gave her a tiny shake. "Stop
that! First of all you aren't plain at all, especially not to me, but not to
anyone. And if I ever hear you say you 'dabble' in art...honestly Anna, you are
a highly talented, skilled artist. Don't put yourself down like this."

Slowly she said, "I just never thought...I never really
imagined my life could be more. That someone would say those words to me. It
will take some time...for all of it to sink in."

"Well, don't take too long to let it sink in, okay?"
Sam smiled at her. Then he bent his head to hers and came closer--

"What are you doing?" Anna whispered.

"Kissing you."

The kiss was tender and exquisite and she melted into his
arms. She felt that it lasted forever, but finally she pulled away. It was too
much, too soon. Her mind and her heart were reeling.

"Sam...I need...I need some time. To think. I'm feeling
completely overwhelmed right now. Can you give me that? Some time?"

His dark brown eyes stared into hers, searching, then he
gave her a small smile. "You're not afraid, are you? I don't see that in
your eyes."

"No, just swamped with emotion and too many thoughts.
Too much has happened in one day. Let me get my balance back."

"All right." He hugged her to him for a moment
then released her. "I'll come back for the painting at another time. With
a check. Take it easy, love." Then he walked to the door and was gone.

Anna sat staring at the painting for a full minute before
bursting into tears.

* * * *

Sam was halfway home before he realized that she'd never
said anything at all about how she felt about him. His dazed smile gave way to
a frown as his mind cleared and he replayed every moment, every word of their
encounter. No, he was right, she'd said nothing.

What did it mean? What if she didn't feel the same way about
him? Maybe she saw him only as a friend...if so, she might see the kiss and his
discussion of his feelings as an uncomfortable and awkward episode. Damn. What
if she only saw him as a patron of the arts? What if--?

He stopped this train of thought by whacking a hand on his
forehead. By the time he got home he was thinking hard. He walked into his
kitchen, opened the freezer and took out the bottle of vodka and a martini
glass. After fixing the drink, he slouched down on the couch and really thought
about how Anna saw herself.

That was the problem, he slowly realized. She didn't have
enough belief in her own looks and personality and talent to believe he could
actually love her. So how could she say she loved him? Bah, this is all too
complicated.
Bottom line here is I need to romance the lady, show her how I
feel, make her believe my love for her is real.
Great. Now to figure out
how to do that.

* * * *

Anna moped around her loft all morning Sunday, the day after
Sam had said he loved her. She'd run it through her head over and over and she
couldn't believe what he said he felt was real. She just wasn't the kind of
girl that attracted and was loved by a man like him. She tried painting and
gave up after thirty minutes. It was a dismal mess of grays and muddy browns.

Finally she decided to do something positive. She wrapped up
the painting Sam had chosen and took it to a friend of hers, Louis Caronelli.
He was great at framing and she knew exactly the right type of frame for this
painting. Louis was the only other person in town who'd seen any of her
paintings, and then only a couple several years ago. She still went to his
small shop periodically to see his latest work and types of framing, always
imagining one day getting some of hers framed.

Louis was turning the closed sign to open when she appeared
at his door. Motioning her through, he smiled at the large package she had with
her.

"Ah, at last! You will let me frame one, yes?"

"Yes, Louis. This is for a client. The painting is
already sold."

Louis looked shocked. "You? Are selling them? After all
this time?"

"Yes," she said, lifting her head an inch. "I'm
going to start selling them, maybe even in a gallery."

Louis had bent to unwind the twine and brown wrapping paper
carefully. As he unveiled it, his mouth fell open.

"Louis, is something wrong?"

"Wrong? Wrong? Nothing could be wrong, it is
perfection! Glorious! I know the exact frame for it."

"Now I had my own idea about--"

"Let me do what I know, Anna. Just wait."

With some trepidation, she watched him take it to the back
of his shop. While she waited she looked at the pieces in the window,
watercolors of the coast that to her mind were too washed out. Watercolor didn't
have to be the palest of the pale. Her watercolors had some intensity to them.
But then, these in the window were mainly for tourists to buy. Anna knew the
artist, a friend of Holly's, actually, from high school. She knew the woman was
perfectly content to churn out essentially the same three paintings for tourist
dollars. Anna imagined doing that would drive herself nuts.

"Here it is," Louis said quietly.

Anna turned and saw the painting. The frame was not quite
what she had pictured but was even better. It set off the light in the
painting. Now it almost looked like it should cost eight thousand dollars.

"How much?"

"I hate to charge you--"

"How much, Lewis?"

"For you, fifty. To cover materials."

"Are you sure that's enough?"

Lewis gave her a wry smile. "I have ulterior motives.
If you sell more, you'll bring them here to be framed? Yes?"

She laughed. "Yes." She paid him and they wrapped
the painting up well.

Now to deliver it. She opened up her cell phone to call Sam
and realized she didn't have his number. But she did know where his house was.
Everyone knew where Wally's place stood. Carefully propping the painting in the
back seat, Anna decided to go there. If he was gone, she'd try another time.
She wanted him to have the painting. He needed it in his living room and...and...she
also wanted to see him. That thought almost made her turn the car around, but
she continued on, following the beach road out to his house.

When she got there, she gave a quick sigh of relief as she
saw his car in the driveway. So far so good. She removed the painting from the
car and walked up the sidewalk to the house. She knocked on the door and after
a few seconds heard someone moving inside.

Sam opened the door and the look of surprise on his face
almost had Anna laughing. She managed only to smile, but it was funny-looking.
She held up the painting and pointed to him. "This belongs to you. I thought
I'd deliver it in person, to see what it looks like on the wall...that is, if
you don't mind."

"Mind? No, not at all. Come in, come in." He
opened the door more widely and reached out for the painting.

Anna handed it to him as she tried not to stare. He was
shirtless, wearing only some beat-up white shorts that really showed off his
tan. The abs she'd noticed before were definitely pronounced without the shirt.
She found herself wanting to reach out and run her fingertips across his chest.
She shook herself and heard him talking.

"Hmm. It doesn't feel the same. It feels like it's been
framed."

"I know you may have wanted to do that yourself,
choosing a frame, I mean. But I know the guy who owns the framing shop in town
who has wonderful taste. He chose the perfect frame."

Sam closed the door and they moved straight ahead, past the
kitchen into the living room. He began to unwrap the painting.

"Oh, the view here is spectacular," Anna said as
she stood by the window. He'd had the sliding doors partially open and a nice
breeze was coming off the water. There was no need for air conditioning in this
house.

"Anna." Sam called to her. She turned swiftly. Sam
smiled at her. "The frame really is just right. Thanks for doing that."

She waved a hand. "Sure, no problem. Where did you want
to hang it?"

"I think on this wall here so I can see it from the
couch. What do you think about this height?"

"You know what? Let me hold it up so you can sit on the
couch and we can figure out where it needs to be for you to see it best."

They moved it up and down the wall and finally agreed on
placement and Sam hung it on the wall. Finally they both sat down on the couch
and stared at the new wall feature.

"Perfect, Sam."

"Absolutely, Anna."

A companionable quiet filled the room, the sound of waves
barely reaching their ears, the breeze fluttering papers held down by a rock on
his desk.

"You're using a rock to hold down your pages?"

"It was handy."

"Does that mean you've overcome the problems you were
having with the book?"

"Yes. It's moving along." Sam didn't say anything
else and Anna decided to sit quietly for a few minutes to get her courage up.

"Sam, about last time--"

"Anna, I want to say something--"

"Well so do I!"

He gave a low laugh. "Okay, you first."

"I wanted to say how flattered I was, how surprised I
was...but I don't know how to respond to what you said. It feels like you were
talking about someone else, not me. I think maybe you are imagining more to me
than is here."