Remember Me (14 page)

An hour later, Lucy was stepping off a bus in Georgetown, her gaze seeking out the discreet numbers over the doors until she found the one she wanted. There was just enough of a display window to let passersby know this was a business, not a private home. She studied the area. Historic homes, trendy restaurants–a place where locals and tourists might be tempted to look and buy.

A discreet tinkling bell announced her arrival. It seemed not even a moment passed before a willowy brunette in a classically tailored suit greeted her. “Welcome to Mason’s. How may I help you?”

Lucy swallowed. This was the same cool voice she’d heard on the phone earlier, and she was as intimidating now as she had been then. Maybe more so. In her classic clothes and understated jewelry, she managed to make Lucy feel too everything–too tall, too busty, too casual. She had changed into jeans and high-heeled short boots, but she now wondered if the tunic-styled sweater was a little too figure-hugging.
Fuck this.
This must have been Roberto’s idea of a joke.

“Belinda?” a masculine voice interrupted from the rear of the gallery. “Senator Hughes’s wife would like to make arrangements to have the vases delivered.” A dark-haired, dark-eyed man of about Lucy’s height with the addition of her heels strode into the room, raking an agitated hand through his shoulder-length hair. He came to an abrupt halt. “Hello.”

Lucy smothered a laugh. Belinda looked irritated, then angry when she noticed the man’s gaze raking Lucy’s figure. Belinda had no doubt already determined Lucy was not a potential commission. With a dismissive nod at her, she excused herself and disappeared through the same door the man had come through.

He approached her, his dark eyes warm with appreciation. “I’m Mason Hatch. You are?”

She held out her hand. “Lucy Cameron. I’m a friend of Roberto…” She wasn’t sure how much to reveal.

Mason laughed, taking her hand and holding it. “Ah! So you are that Lucy. Roberto called me last night.” He glanced around her as if searching for something. “Did you bring anything to show me?”

“No. I just came by to introduce myself.”

“And check us out, right?”

Lucy laughed. “Well, yeah. I suppose so.”

“Then let me show you around. I’ll explain how we operate, and if you like what you see and hear, you can bring some pieces by for me to look at…or I could drop by your studio.”

Whoa. Mason Hatch was good-looking, but he was moving way too fast for her. Besides, nobody but nobody who could connect her to Flamingo Road knew where she lived. “I’ll bring some pieces by.”

He backed up a step and held up his hands. “Sorry. I’ll back off. I appreciate beauty in all its forms, so I’m sorry if I came on a little strong.”

Lucy smoothed her hands along the thighs of her jeans. “Yeah. Well, you did. Look, I don’t know what Roberto told you, but I’m not sure…”

“Come. Look around. We cater to a variety of clientele, not only social-climbing Washington wannabes. I carry everything from the practical to high-end art. See if you think your work will fit in. If not, I can recommend some other places.”

She stopped. “You would do that?”

He shrugged. “I wouldn’t like it, but I would do it–a favor to Roberto.”

It seemed to her Roberto had a lot of people who did him favors. Mason escorted her to a large open area where a variety of practical ceramic and stoneware products were on display. “This is our bread and butter, practical items that are purchased by both tourists and those making the area home–at least until voters get a second crack at them.”

“That’s a little cynical.”

Mason chuckled. “Maybe. It does have its advantages. It means we have a steady stream of potential new clients.” He gestured to a display of dishes. “We have a huge demand right now for custom-made dishes. If you can supply the merchandise, we can pay your grocery bill.”

The dishes were fine. Each set was beautiful and unique. “I know how to do that,” Lucy began.

“But it’s not what you want to concentrate on,” he finished for her. “I understand, and there’s nothing wrong with feeling that way. You just need to understand it sometimes means a longer waiting period before you’re self-sufficient.”

“I can support myself.” If she had to continue to dance for a while, it would be easier to do knowing there was light at the end of the tunnel.

“All right. Well, let me show you what we have in higher-end fine art.”

This room was smaller, with fewer items on display, all arranged and lit to show them to best advantage. Some pieces with practical application: vases, bowls and plates. Others were for beauty alone: tiles glazed in elaborate geometric designs, abstract works that drew on vastly differing techniques. Lucy’s attention focused on a couple pots on a low shelf near the window.

“What beautiful pinch pots. This takes such an incredible amount of patience.” She looked around her. “This is amazing.”

Mason stepped to her side. “What is it you do that will garner the same reaction from someone else?”

With a wellspring of cynicism she’d never acknowledged, Lucy replied, “I take off my clothes.”

Mason surprised her then by laughing. It was a rich, deep sound, rife with amusement. “I’m not talking about how you earn your living. I meant your art. What makes you unique when it comes to ceramics?”

She ran her finger along the edge of one pinch pot. “My glazing–at least when it comes to what I turn–but I build by hand too. I’ve been experimenting with larger pieces blending coil and slab work.”

“Bring me samples of both.”

* * * *

If Lucy thought Mason was an eye-opening experience, Angelina O’Daniel was another. She stood eyeball to eyeball with Lucy, her long, black hair curling over her shoulders and down her back. She dressed like an upscale sixties hippie-holdover and the art collection on display in her living room seemed to confirm the image.

Mason and Angelina. They were so different yet both friends of Roberto.

“So Roberto tells me you were involved in a plane crash a couple of months ago.”

Lucy raised her brows. “I’m beginning to wonder why Roberto even gave me names and phone numbers. He seems to have already touched base with you and the art dealer he had me contact. He also seems to know a lot more than I’ve ever shared about what happened to me.”

“Does it upset you?”

Lucy wandered the room, feeling a little restless. “I don’t know. I guess there’s a part of me that’s amazed he cares so much.”

“Is there some reason why people who know you shouldn’t care about you?”

Lucy glanced at Angelina over her shoulder. “They just never have.”

“Including the man in the plane crash?”

“Ouch. You don’t waste time, do you?”

“I don’t let people distract me.”

Lucy laughed and sat on the couch positioned in front of a large, bay window. “Is that what I was doing?”

“Yes. I asked you about the plane crash. You don’t want to talk about it, so you tried to refocus attention onto Roberto.” Angelina smiled. “We can talk about either one. Or you can start further back. I figure this is a chance for me to get to know you.”

Lucy crossed her legs at the knee. “Why don’t I tell you about my vacation? We can start there because it had a lot of firsts for me.”

“All right.”

“The ski trip was the first vacation I’ve ever planned and taken.”

Angelina arched her brows. “No vacations when you were a child?”

“No. My parents died when I was quite small. My grandmother raised me, and there wasn’t money for extras like vacations. Besides, we lived near the coast. Most people figure living near the beach is already a vacation. Gran had a stroke when I was twelve. It eventually killed her. I was moved to foster care. No vacations there.”

“But you make good money stripping. A lot of young women would be spending it hand over fist.”

“I went to college and got a masters degree in art history. Then I paid off my loans.”

“That’s a big undertaking. So was this vacation a reward?”

“Yes. A celebration of having finished those payments.”

“What were some of the other firsts?”

“My first flight in an airplane. I thought that was great, even the cramped commuter flight from Denver to Falcon’s Head.” Lucy paused and took a deep breath. “That’s where I met him.”

“Tell me about him.”

Lucy swallowed. Her chest ached. She hadn’t talked to anyone about Brandon. It hurt too much. “His name is Brandon. He has the most amazing eyes. They’re a mixture of green and gold. I guess you’d call them hazel. He hit on me as soon as he met me, but in the nicest possible way.”

“What do you mean?”

“He offered to teach me to ski.”

“Did you take him up on it?”

Lucy tucked her hair behind one ear. “I did. The skiing was another first. He was a wonderful teacher, patient and very knowledgeable. He even had his friend, the owner of the resort, check out my skiing skills before he took me to some higher level slopes. It was funny, because on the surface he seemed to be such a risk-taker kind of guy, but he was careful when it came to me.”

“The two of you clicked?”

“We were inseparable.”

“So why were you flying the day of the crash?”

“Brandon set it up for me. He’d discovered my love of pottery and my knowledge of art. A dealer recommended a museum in another town. He had planned rent a plane and fly himself…” Lucy trailed off. It occurred to her, had Tom Hanson not needed to fly to Coyote Creek himself, it might have been just her and Brandon in the plane. He would have been the one sitting in the pilot’s seat. He would have been the one with the branch jammed through his chest and his eyes staring vacantly.

“Lucy?” It seemed as if she had only blinked but now found Angelina at her side, holding her hands. “Do you want to put your head between your knees? You look a little pale, sweetie.”

“No. It occurred to me Brandon could have been the one piloting the plane. He could have been dead.” She stopped and gulped a couple of times before she whispered, “And what made the realization worse was the relief I felt that it was Tom Hanson who died and not Brandon.” Lucy covered her face with her hands and started crying. “How can I be glad someone died?”

Angelina handed her a couple tissues. “There’s a big difference between feeling relief someone’s alive and being glad someone else is dead. Yes, you feel relief the man you loved survived, but that doesn’t translate into being glad this other man didn’t. You have some real issues about the crash still, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Roberto had been right. She did need to get all of this out in the open, and Angelina was safe. Anything Lucy shared would be confidential.

“Have you talked to anyone about what happened?”

Lucy shook her head. “Just the investigators right after it happened. I still don’t even know what happened to cause it.”

“Don’t you want to know?”

“It’s complicated.”

“I have time. You can uncomplicate it now, or I can come to your place in the morning. I’d like to see some of your pottery, see where you work.”

“I don’t normally invite people to my home.” Lucy looked out the front window to the green lawn and overflowing garden areas. They were deceptive. At first glance, it seemed haphazard, but the more she’d glanced at them, the more she realized the plantings were designed to keep flowers blooming through the season. She returned her attention to Angelina, who watched her with a Madonna-like patience. “But everything I tell you and show you is confidential. Right?” At the other woman’s nod, Lucy continued. “Can we do both? Now I’ve started, I need to get some of this out.”

“That’s fine. Would you like some tea?”

“Yes, I would.”

“Come with me. I see you studying my yard. If you like the front, you’ll love the back. We can sit in the sunroom there. Plenty of plants and sunshine, plus a wonderful view of the patio.”

Angelina let her wander along the length of the sunroom, and Lucy began to relax. For the first time since she’d flown back from Colorado, she wasn’t whipping in the wind like a loose spinnaker. Angelina had grabbed her line, and the security soothed her.

“Sometimes it helps to talk about the traumatic event that’s got you tied in knots. When you share the horror, it doesn’t lessen its significance, just helps share the burden. When the weight is carried on your shoulders alone, it can wear you down with sheer fatigue.”

Lucy sipped from her tea and set it down. “That’s a lot how it seems, and it worried me. I kept feeling like it should be getting better, but instead the memories and the nightmares seem to prey on me more and more.”

“Why don’t you begin with going to the airport that day?”

Lucy thought. “Brandon had planned to fly. He said he was a licensed pilot, and when he mentioned the amount of flight time he had, the kid at the air service place seemed impressed.” She shrugged. “I know so little about it. Anyway, the kid was about to tell us there weren’t any planes available when Tom Hanson came in and asked where we wanted to go. When Brandon told him, he said he could take us there if we’d planned just a day trip because he had to pick up some parts. It seemed like the perfect solution.”