A Different Light (35 page)

And boy-howdy, the man sure had the golden touch when it came to women. Quentin shook his head. Dallas MacGregor—
Dallas Freaking MacGregor!
for crying out loud!—had been his college sweetheart. She left him—brokenhearted, no doubt, what man wouldn’t have been?—and he rebounded with Athen Moran. Damn. The guy might have died young, but, man, oh, man, John Moran had
lived.

Not that I’d trade places with him,
Quentin thought,
and not that the man had wanted to leave it all so soon, but I have to admire him.

Quentin raised his beer can to toast the departed hero.

“Here’s to you, John Moran. You must have been one hell of a guy.” He took a few sips. “I’m sorry for you that you came to such an end. It wasn’t fair. You deserved better, and so did she. All that being said, I’m not sorry I met her.”

Quentin finished the beer, went back inside, and locked the door. He crumpled the can and tossed it into the recyling bin, turned off all the downstairs lights, and went upstairs to bed.

 22 

So, is my room ready yet?” Meg’s cheery voice sang through the phone.

“I’m working on it.” Athen silently resolved to do exactly that this week. “Are you planning on a trip home soon?”

“Sooner than I’d planned,” Meg announced in a rush of excitement. “Athen, the most incredible thing happened. Brenda Chapman called me at nine this morning. You’re never going to believe this, but it seems Hughes Chapman just purchased a cable TV station and he’s looking for a news anchor.”

“Seriously?” Athen bit her lip in gleeful anticipation. Brenda certainly had wasted little time between last night and this morning.

“Totally. Brenda asked me to send her some tapes by overnight delivery. If they like what they see, they’ll want me to come out to talk to them ASAP. Is this the craziest thing ever?”

“Meg, that would be wonderful.” Athen all but danced at the prospect.

“You know, Brenda and I spoke briefly at the Chapmans’ dinner party last year—the one Buddy took me to—but I never dreamed that our very casual conversation would lead to something like this. And speaking of Buddy, what’s this Brenda’s telling me? What is going on between the two of you?”

“I’m not sure that I know.” Athen hesitated.

“Brenda tells me you’re pretty tight. Why the change of heart?”

“It’s a long story.”

“One you’ll relate in detail the very second I step off the plane. Assuming that I make the cut. I told you that Buddy had eyes for you, didn’t I?”

“Yes, Meg, you did.” Athen laughed at the memory.

“Well, he’s a darling man and I think you could be very happy together.”

“I think you’re being a bit premature, since I’ve only seen him socially a few times,” Athen said levelly.
But yes, he is darling, and I am happy when I’m with him
.

“But you really like him, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Athen sighed. “I do, but …”

“Good. I’m glad, if for no other reason than to remind you that you have a whole life ahead of you. I’m glad you’re seeing someone, and I’m particularly happy that it’s Quentin. He’s still quite a catch.”

“I’m not so sure I want to catch him or anyone else, but I will admit that I enjoy the time I spend with him.”

“You make me crazy. What more could you possibly want? He’s bright and funny, and you may not have noticed, but he’s pretty hot.”

“Can it, Meg.” Athen laughed. “We’ll talk about it when you get out here.”

“Hopefully, that will be very soon. You’ll know the minute I know,” Meg promised. “Give my love to Callie.”

“Will do.”

What fun it would be to have Meg here,
Athen mused as she washed the lunch dishes.
And I will call someone to come in and finish that wallpapering. What was the name of the man who did all that work for Mrs. Kelly earlier this year? Parker? Pepper?

She dried her hands and went through the Yellow Pages. Here we go … Parsons. Norman Parsons. She entered the number and hit send. Mr. Parsons answered, and after listening to her description of what she needed, he agreed to come over on Tuesday evening.

She gathered up the Sunday paper and took it to the
back porch. She was more than a little surprised to see her picture, bold as life, gracing the front page.

Woodside Heights mayor Athena Moran was one of the many enthusiastic workers at yesterday’s kickoff of the UCC’s new community garden. Story on page 3.

Page 3 highlighted a series of photos: Ms. Evelyn waving a tractor onto the lot; a group of workers leaning on their shovels; Reverend Davison greeting several volunteers.

“Hey, Mom.” Callie poked her head out the door. “I’m going across the street to Carolann’s for a while, okay?”

“Sure.” Athen nodded, absorbed in the text of the article.

She scanned the paper, then folded it over, making mental notes of several articles she’d read in depth later, but she was still tired from yesterday’s exertion. Impulse led her up the steps and into the attic, across creaking floorboards to the alcove that overlooked the side yard.

The sheet that covered the easel was gray with dust. She carefully removed it, dropped it onto the floor in a heap, and studied the canvas with a critical eye. Turning on the lights, she leaned closer. The tall spikes of the pale pink flowers rose against a background of pale blue. White roses twined around a half-finished arbor. In the foreground, a branch of magnolia bent to frame the garden beyond the arbor. The painting, intended as a gift for John, had remained incomplete for over a year.

Athen stared at the canvas, wondering if the image of the garden that had been destroyed by the storm remained vivid enough in her memory to finish what she
had started.
What a wonderful present for Callie if I could finish it,
she thought.

She gathered the tools she would need. Some of her paints had dried and would need to be replaced, but there was enough to begin. At first, the brush felt awkward in her hand, but soon she was lost in the colors, carefully shading here and adding light there. When her stomach reminded her that she had not eaten in hours, she looked at her watch and was surprised to find that the afternoon had passed without notice. Callie would be looking for dinner before too long.

She stepped back to assess her work.
Not bad,
she thought.
I’ve done better, but after a long hiatus, this is pretty good.

She gathered her brushes to clean them and realized she was humming. How good it had felt to shape color into form again. Proving to herself that she could still bring a canvas to life unexpectedly filled her with peace. She was starting to feel whole again.

She cleaned her brushes and changed her paint-spattered shirt. She went downstairs and sat on the sofa, then leaned back against the cushions.
Perhaps just a short nap,
she thought as she pulled a light afghan up to her chin.

It was after six when she was awakened by the ringing telephone. Dumbly following the shrill sound to its source, she stumbled into the kitchen and lifted the receiver.

“Did I wake you?” Quentin asked. “You sound as if you’re half asleep.”

“There’s a reason for that.” She yawned mightily.

“We need to build up your stamina,” he admonished with a chuckle.

“Did you get Ms. Evelyn’s bandstand finished?”

“Yes, we did,” he told her, static from his cell cutting
him off briefly. “Of course, we had a lot of expert assistance. Mr. Rossi showed up, hammer in hand, smiling for the cameras so that tomorrow’s paper can show him participating in manlier-than-thou work. No sir, no sissy stuff like filling baskets with broken glass for macho Dan.”

Quentin added, almost as an aside, “He invited me to interview him.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Why would he do that?” she wondered aloud.

“If you’ll open the front door, I’ll come in and tell you all about it in person.”

She peered out the side window. His car was at the curb.

He was dirty and sweaty and, if possible, even more adorable than usual. The maroon baseball cap sat on his head, dark locks of hair stuck to his forehead with perspiration, and his Mets T-shirt bore the same smears of grime as his arms and face.

“So what’s Rossi up to?” She opened the door, and wished she had the nerve to put her arms around him, maybe kiss that little smudge that ran across his upper lip. She’d never been the one to make the first move. She’d never known how.

“Beats me, but I thought it was really interesting that he sought me out,” he said with a grin. “I’m going to meet him at his club for dinner. Curious, yes?”

“Curiouser and curiouser.” She led him by the hand into the living room and in the general direction of the sofa.

“Uh-uh.” He shook his head as she approached the sofa. “I’m too grimy to sit on your furniture. I just wanted to stop and see how your aching back is doing.”

“Much better, thank you.” She smiled as he leaned back against the wall and drew her to him.

“Perhaps a quick massage.” He ran his hands up and down her back, kneading her muscles with his strong fingers.

“Ouch.” She winced and he softened his touch. “We had fun last night, Callie and I.”

“So did we.” He watched her face as his fingers made their way more slowly from her neck to her waist and back again. “Mom made me promise to bring you back. And, of course, Timmy and Callie have made plans for next Saturday to ride.”

“Well, I certainly don’t want her to impose.” His proximity made her dizzy.

“Tim loved the company, and Brenda enjoyed working with her.” He rubbed her shoulder blades gently.

“Brenda called Meg this morning, did you know?” Maybe if she could keep a conversation going she could regain control of her breathing.

“I knew she was going to.” He paused before asking, “What do you think of the idea?”

“Of Meg working here? Are you kidding?”

“That’s what I thought, too.” He tipped her face and kissed her. His lips were warm and soft and drew her deeper and deeper toward a place she thought she’d never find again. Forgotten emotions surged through her, and she felt the fingers of one hand move as if on their own to his face, and then upward slowly, winding their way through his damp curls.

The sound of the back door slamming caused them both to jump.

“Callie,” Athen told him.

“Mom?” Callie called out from the kitchen as if on cue.

“In here, sweetie.” Athen raised an eyebrow and reluctantly disengaged herself from his arms.

“Oh, hi, Mr. Forbes.” Callie seemed glad to see him. “Did you work with Ms. Evelyn again today?”

“Yes, I did.” He nodded, one hand still resting in the middle of Athen’s back. “And you’ll be happy to know we got the bandstand constructed. Maybe next summer we’ll be able to go down there and hear some concerts.”

“That would be cool.” Callie draped herself over the back of the sofa and made no attempt to leave.

“I think I’d better get going. I’m supposed to meet Dan at seven, which doesn’t give me much time to clean up.”

“Give me a call later and let me know how the interview went,” Athen said as she walked him to the door.

“I will, if I get in early,” he told her. “See you, Callie,” he called into the living room.

“See you, Mr. Forbes.” Callie came into the foyer and stood next to her mother. Quentin saluted them both before heading to his car.