We Will Always Have the Closet (22 page)

“My girl, the spitfire.” he exclaimed. “You hit her over the head? You’re going to have to tell me the whole story.” And so she did.

By the time they were back on shore, Alina was painfully waking up from her forced slumber and Sam had been apprised of the full story. He was having a hard time controlling his anger against the tied-up woman. He called the police and soon a cruiser came to pick up Alina and escort Petra and Sam to the hospital. They would have to go to the precinct first thing in the morning for an official statement, but for now the officers allowed them the time they needed to rest and recover. The hospital visit was brief. Thankfully, the wound was superficial and she didn’t seem to have a concussion. She was sent home with her head bandaged and some painkillers.

Lying down in her bed later, curled up against Sam, Petra sighed. “In spite of it all, I still feel good,” she whispered against his chest. “For the first time in my life, I stood up to my foe and won. I don’t feel weak or pathetic anymore. Your love for me, Sam, is a life force, and I’ve learned to love and accept myself because of it.” Sam smiled, bending his head a bit to look into her eyes. Her chin tilted up and her amber eyes beamed. “No one is going to tread on me anymore. No one!”

Chapter Eleven

FRIENDS, ART, AND CLOSETS

Petra

The wonderful scent of freshly roasted coffee permeated the air. She inhaled deeply, feeling the aroma take over all her senses.
Nothing like the smell of good coffee to make you feel alive
. Sitting at a small bistro table in the coffee shop, Petra perused a new book. She had become acutely aware that her life in the last couple months had been so full of what she would call excitement, however terrifying and emotionally draining, she had not had time to do the most basic of fun things like enjoying a good book, senses laced with caffeine, in a cozy warm coffee shop. That morning she had gone through her growing pile of to-read novels, both paper and electronic, trying to pick one to enjoy now that things seemed to have finally fallen into a routine again. It was hard to concentrate on anything when her conscience kept haunting her with thoughts of killing another human being. To think that someone like her, who hated hunting because she couldn’t understand how you could kill a living creature and live with yourself, now had killed a man. There. The thoughts were back and the feelings of guilt bit into her ruthlessly.

A familiar face came through the door just in time to save her from her own mind. “Liam,” she called, waving. “Here.”

Liam smiled that great big smile of his and came to join her at the table. He bent down slightly to kiss her cheek. “I’m so glad you called,” he said, sitting across from her and holding her hand across the table. He was a very affectionate man, probably the reason why he had blindly trusted his friend, the same friend who had stolen her away from him all those years ago. She could see it clearly now that the clouds of self-doubt had lifted. Linden had never loved her. He just wanted what his best friend had and he was not above stealing it from him. Liam had almost certainly—knowing how trusting he was—confessed to Jonas to be head over heels in love with her back then. The jealousy and greed for anything that was not his had pushed Linden over the edge; he was willing to do anything in his power to steal her away from his friend. Sadly, it had not taken that much. She had fallen for it. Hard.

Petra had not talked to him in a few days, since she had confronted Alina in the coffee shop. That morning, while having breakfast with Sam, he had asked her about it. “How come you haven’t called Liam? He must be worried about you.” Funny how a life-threatening situation can change your mind about someone. Just a couple of weeks back, Sam would have never said anything like that. Glad that Sam seemed to have resolved his feelings of jealousy toward Liam, she called him and asked him to meet her in town for coffee. His familiar British accent and his unkempt sparse beard made her smile. “Aren’t you ever going to shave properly?” she asked him, laughing.

His hand went to his face as if to check on the stubble he had growing there. “The ladies seem to like it,” he said with a grin. He noticed the book she was holding. “What you’re reading there?”

“Nothing earth-shaking,” she said, showing him the cover. “I just wanted to read something light and fun. God knows we’ve had our share of heavy, thought-provoking stuff lately.” The words came out with a giggle, but Liam could tell she was serious. She had had quite a few weeks of life-changing events. Not all bad, but still…

“So what’s up, buttercup?” he asked, waving the waitress to their table. When she laughed, he looked at her. “What’s so funny?”

“You are so British,” she said giggling, this time whole-heartedly. It was nice sitting with her friend and chatting about art and everyday stuff. It made her feel her life was back on track, that things were finally normal. She had a wonderful man in her life and a fantastic friend to confide in. What more could she possibly want?

“I have decided to accept your offer,” Petra said at one point. “I will take the job as curator and docent in the Linden Galleria. For you and for the love of art.” She felt she needed to explain.

The smile on his face told her he was very happy about her decision. “I’m changing the name of the place, by the way,” he said, a twinkle in his eye. “It will be called
It’s All About the Muse
.”

“You’re kidding,” she exclaimed, laughing. “Tell me you’re joking. That sounds like the title of a pop song.”

Chuckling softly, he thanked the waitress who had brought him fresh coffee. “I love that name,” he protested, “but no, that’s not the new name for the galleria.”

“But you are changing it?” Petra asked, now curious. Liam was staring at her with a somewhat mischievous glint in his beautiful blue eyes.

“It will be called Petra’s Galleria in honor of my muse,” he said. “And, I must confess, to get back at Jonas. Nothing will irk him more than naming his precious galleria after the woman who was his undoing.”

“What happens when he finishes his jail sentence?” she asked, feeling warm inside. Having an art gallery named after her was a dream come true. Considering that this one belonged to her estranged husband also gave her a good sense of closure, of having come out of that terrible relationship with something good and wholesome.

“He’s in for the long haul,” Liam told her. “I talked to his lawyer yesterday. Jonas is buried in legal trouble up to his eyeballs. Now that everything came to light, he’s being charged with so many felony counts he’ll be lucky if they allow him to stay under house arrest much longer. He’s staying at his house in Port Townsend. In the meantime, I have hired my own lawyers and I’m looking into solo ownership of the galleria.”

Petra wiggled in the chair, leaning forward. “But those paintings, they all belong to him,” she said.

“Because of his legal status, he has to sell a lot of his things,” the Brit explained. “I don’t have that kind of money but I know a lot of people in the art world who do. And they would love to have a marvelous work of art hanging in a galleria with their name on display. I already have enough buyers to keep the galleria afloat and I’m sure I can get some more.”

Reaching across the table, she grabbed his hand in hers and gave it a squeeze of gratitude and happiness. “Thank you, Liam,” she said sincerely, tears floating in her eyes. “You are such a good friend. Jonas did not deserve you. I don’t deserve you.”

“What are you talking about?” he exclaimed, squeezing her hand back. “You are my muse and for that
I
thank
you
.”

“I chose a freaking felon over you,” she admitted to both him and herself. “How stupid does that make me? But my friendship for you has always been sincere, Liam. I hope you know that.” He gave her hand another squeeze before letting go.

“So, when do you start?” he asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Tomorrow?” She felt she needed someone else to confirm that this was indeed a good thing and not another hare-brained scheme of her own making.

“Tomorrow will work,” he said, giving her the push she needed. “I will wait for you at the galleria at eight a.m. sharp. And you know how we Brits are about punctuality…”

Excitement and anxiety filled the rest of her day. She found herself trying on work outfits and rehearsing speeches. It was during one of those speeches that Sam surprised her from behind. “Bravo, bravo.” The applause made her turn on her heels to face an obviously amused Sam.

“Stop sneaking around like a thief,” she said, half mad, half amused. “You are too good at it.”

“Comes with the job, I guess,” he said matter-of-factly. His arms, both functional now, circled her waist in an embrace. “So, you’re going to accept the job?”

Feeling a little guilty that she had told Liam before telling him, she nodded. “I already did,” she confessed. “I met with Liam this morning to tell him. I start tomorrow.” She braced herself for his anger, but he smiled instead.

“Liam called me and told me,” he admitted, pulling her closer and kissing her cheeks.

“I’m not sure I like this bromance you guys have developed,” Petra said, contradicting her words with a giggle. “Do you think I did the right thing?”

In reply, he kissed her. “You have the most kissable lips I have ever tasted,” he said, hovering just above her mouth. “Of course you did the right thing. You were born to do that job. God knows you should have a piece of Linden’s pie after all the damage he caused you.”

“I just hope I’m up to the task,” she said, playing with his unruly hair. “I have never done it before, you know.”

He caught her hand in his and brought it to his lips. “Stop doubting yourself,” he said, green eyes glittering in the impending dusk. “You are smart, knowledgeable of art, beautiful, and articulate…what’s to doubt exactly?”

A grateful hug seemed in order, and as she hung on his neck, face buried in the nook of his shoulder, she thought of how she seemed to see herself more clearly through his eyes than her own. Was that because their souls had merged and he could see what she couldn’t or wouldn’t?

“I love you, Sam,” she whispered into his neck.

Her first day as the art curator started early the next morning. The staff at the galleria was welcoming and seemed more than thrilled to be working with her rather than their previous boss. After a short but heartfelt speech, she dismissed them all to their usual jobs and she found herself alone in what used to be Jonas’ office. Surveying her surroundings, she immediately decided to change the decor. This one reminded her too much of her ex-husband. The memory held too much pain. Liam had told her she had funds available to her to change whatever she thought was needed, so she ordered some new furniture and began the cleansing process, cleaning drawers and the closet where she had hid with Sam the night of the gala. She wouldn’t change too much in there. After all, she had very pleasant memories of that closet.

Linden had boxes and boxes of what could only be called
stuff
. There was no rhyme or reason for the way they were stored. It was like he just didn’t know what to do with those things so he placed them all in boxes. A lot of it was junk that she didn’t hesitate to throw in the trash right away, but some things seemed personal somehow, like tokens or memories of moments cherished. Not Jonas’ though, she was sure. Had he been stealing mementos from other people? For what? Maybe for the same reason he had “stolen” her away from Liam—spite, jealousy, envy. As she rummaged through those objects she felt she needed to return them to their rightful owners, but how could she? She had no idea who they were. Except…in a corner of one of the boxes, there it was, the one thing that had sent her sneaking into Jonas’ apartment and later his office at the galleria. He did have it after all.

In her hand it seemed smaller than she remembered, but it was just as dear to her. A smile lit up her face as she pocketed the object. She would deal with it later. Now, she needed to get rid of all these things, these memories that Linden had stolen from people she did not know. “Make a clean start,” Sam had told her a couple days ago when she was still debating whether to take the job. He was right, as usual. Opening the door, she called her assistant and told him to call someone to take all that to the dump. Other than some business documents she was keeping, she wanted it all gone, out of sight, out of mind.

A few hours later, she was staring at a completely blank canvas. Even the wonderful paintings he had hanging there had been relocated to another space in the building. Just as she stood there, looking around and making plans, Liam came in with two big canvas in his hands. “I come bearing gifts,” he announced with a flourish. “Tess, the receptionist, called and told me that you were redecorating so I thought you may need these.” Turning the canvas around, he revealed two beautiful paintings. One of her house, the other of Sam and her in an embrace, lost in each other’s eyes.

“When did you do these?” she asked, delighted and touched.

“I’ve had a lot of time on my hands since my best friend has been a little aloof,” he said sarcastically. “Do you like them? They’re not necessarily my best work, but…”

Petra threw herself into his arms. “Thank you, Liam,” she said, voice choked up. “I love them, I love them!”

“So, this is what you guys do when I’m not around,” she heard a familiar voice say. A scowling Sam was at the door staring at the two as they hugged each other.

Petra let go of Liam and ran to him. “Look, Sam,” she said excitedly. “Look what Liam gave me.” Pointing at the two paintings still leaning against the wall, she looked like a young girl opening her Christmas gifts. “Aren’t they gorgeous?”

Sam’s scowl turned quickly into a broad smile. Her happiness always seemed to reflect itself on him, and happy people didn’t have time for anger. “They look great,” he admitted sincerely. “Wow, Liam, did you do that from memory?”

“Pictures,” Liam said. “I had a picture of the house and I had a picture of you two taken at the hospital. I just had to embellish the details. A hospital gown would not be the best wardrobe in this case.” They all laughed.

“This deserves a celebration,” Sam exclaimed suddenly, putting a hand over Petra’s shoulders. “Let’s go somewhere together.”

Petra grabbed her coat and her gloves and followed the two men outside into the December cold. The holiday season was well underway and the city was looking festive with Christmas trees on every corner, beautifully dressed shop windows, big red bows and colorful festoons on posts and walls of buildings. The sun was dipping into the horizon and they decided to go to a small Spanish tapas place they all liked. Inside it was warm and it smelled of olives and spices so typical of Spanish cuisine. Her mouth watered instantly. She realized that she had skipped lunch altogether and her stomach was rumbling furiously. The men had already sat down while she perused the grocery area, coveting all the goodies on the shelves. Finally, she joined them with three containers of olives, marcona almonds, and Alicante turrón. “What?” she exclaimed when they gave her a strange look. “I am very hungry.”