Always Florence (17 page)

“Don’t forget to get your car washed this weekend at the mini-mart,” he told her as Dennis took some bags from her, preparing to leave. “All proceeds for the food bank. And the Urban and the coffee house are donating half their proceeds. Why don’t we all meet for dinner Sunday night, my treat?”

“Deal,” Dennis said. “But I’ll split the bill with you. And isn’t there a bake sale somewhere?”

“St. Mary’s,” Nate replied. “Next weekend. I think the schedule was in Wednesday’s paper.”

Dennis made a face and tipped his head toward his daughter. “That’s too bad. This one used it for strategizing her shopping. Anything of a news nature is illegible or cut out.”

Nate laughed. He turned to catch Bobbie’s glance, but she was already out the door. “We won’t miss anything, trust me. See you Sunday.”

“And I’ll see you in the morning!” Stella shouted to Dennis over Nate’s shoulder.

“Watch out for the chrysanthemums!” Nate warned as they reached the edge of his property. He saw them move more slowly, step carefully over the mums, then finally reach the path lit by Bobbie’s back porch light. He closed the door and turned to find Stella right behind him. She was smiling brightly.

“I feel thirty years old tonight,” she said. “Well, my feet feel sixty-seven, but the woman inside feels thirty. When I
was
thirty, I had children and a job, and shopping had to be done quickly. Today, we just had fun. It was wonderful.”

“I’m glad you had fun. And I’m glad you’re enjoying Dennis’s company.” Nate teased her with a frown. “But if he talks you into moving to California, the boys and I will be very upset.”

“That won’t happen.” She gathered up shopping bags, letting him carry half as he walked her to the door. “What are you going to do about Bobbie?”

“I’m working on that.”

“Have you told her that you love her?”

He sighed. “No, she wouldn’t want to hear it. At least, that’s been the case in the past. Things may be shifting in my favor, but I’m not buying any advertising yet.”

Stella opened the front door and took the bags from him. One of them tipped sideways and spilled more than a dozen pairs of socks onto the porch.

Nate looked from them to her. “Is there a centipede on your list?” he asked.

CHAPTER TWELVE

B
OBBIE
DELIVERED
HER
commission on Monday to praise and flattering enthusiasm from the law firm’s partners. Sandy winked at her as one of the men took down four flower prints hanging across the back of the room and personally replaced them with her quotes from Oliver Wendell Holmes scripted in calligraphy on her handmade paper. Bobbie was proud of the pieces and thought how much in her life had changed since she’d come to Astoria to complete them.

And now she could focus full-time on the painting for the fund-raiser.

The following Friday, she was ready to abandon her workroom for a day with her energetic art class. She had the children hard at work on stars with glitter, bells, candy canes, snowflakes and other symbols of Christmas. Fernanda patrolled the room to prevent anyone from gluing hair or fingers. There was glitter everywhere, but it gave her little students a sort of fairy-tale look Bobbie enjoyed as she walked among them.

Crystal Moreno, a usually quiet and hardworking little girl with long dark hair and enormous eyes, chose to draw on her star rather than apply glitter. The subject appeared to be female, with long brown hair and wide red lips. Crystal had put glitter in her eyes.

“That’s a pretty face,” Bobbie exclaimed. “Is she someone you know?”

“That’s my mom,” she said, adding eyelashes.

“Well, she’s very pretty. She’ll like that star a lot.”

“It’s for my dad,” the girl said matter-of-factly. “He’s in jail and can’t come home for Christmas. He didn’t do anything bad,” she added, as though accustomed to having to explain herself. “We didn’t have food one time ’cause he didn’t have a job anymore, and he took money from a store.”

Horrified that this little child had to deal with such a thing, Bobbie got down on one knee beside her desk, wanting to offer comfort, but not sure what to say. Fortunately, Crystal was chatty.

“He wants my mom to get a divorce,” she said, looking lost. “But she got mad at him when he said that. They had a fight. I’m going to give this to him when we visit.”

“I’m sure he’ll love it. But what about one with your face, too. And...do you have brothers and sisters?”

“I have a little sister.”

“I’ll get you two more stars. If you don’t finish today, don’t worry. I’ll help you next week. Maybe we could even put them on a string to remind your dad how you’re all waiting for him to come home.”

The little girl brightened visibly. “Okay.”

Bobbie stood to find Fernanda right behind her. “I’ll get the stars,” the woman said.

Bobbie continued to circulate among the children, making a mental note to tell Nate about the family and see if one of the holiday gift baskets could be earmarked for them.

The session ended in an enthusiastic but chaotic cleanup and a spirited race for the door when it was time for lunch. Crystal came to wrap her arms around Bobbie’s waist, then ran off to follow her friends.

Fernanda helped Bobbie store the unfinished ornaments until the next week’s session. “Have you ever thought of getting licensed to hold art therapy classes?” she asked. “You seem to have a gift for helping children with their problems through artwork.”

Bobbie dismissed her praise with a shake of her head. “Thank you, but I operate more on gut instinct than knowledge. And, really, I don’t know how much it’ll help.” Just yesterday she’d have said, “Besides, I’m moving to Italy after the holidays,” but today, for the first time since she’d made the decision to go, she wasn’t sure she would.

“You should think about it, Bobbie. My husband is a psychologist. I know he could point you in the right direction for classes to become certified.”

“Thank you, Fernanda.” Bobbie gave her a quick hug, then brushed glitter off her shoulder. “I’m going to miss you when this is over. Only one more class.”

“I’ll miss you. This had been more fun than it usually is. And that’s all thanks to you.”

“That’s sweet of you, Fernanda. See you next week. I’m bringing cookies.”

“Great. I’ll arrange for milk and hot chocolate.”

On her way home, Bobbie pulled up at her favorite viewing spot overlooking the river. It was a beautiful day, with big puffy clouds floating in a row above the subtly purple hills on the Washington side. The water was like glass today, only a red-and-black freighter at anchor disturbing the surface.

It was difficult to admit how much she would hate leaving Astoria. She’d come to love the town and the people so much. Nate in particular. And her feelings for him were now so strong that she wanted to stay with him.

Her painting of him was a testament to her feelings. Though he was shown only in profile, he looked handsome, slightly brooding, a young man of the sea at his prime. He gazed over the river as though dreaming of a woman he’d left behind in some exotic locale. Bobbie wanted to think that in quiet moments, he dreamed of
her.
She was proud of the painting, though it was as much a reflection of how she felt as it was an image of him and the old riverfront.

He was everything a woman could ever want—if she didn’t want to go to Florence, too.

Bobbie sat staring at the mountains and the clouds, and wondered why she’d felt so driven to make this trip. Was Sandy right—that the idea gave her hope, and as long as she did what she’d promised herself, she believed she wouldn’t die?

Bobbie considered that. Last year she’d have told anyone who asked that if she wasn’t able to devote herself completely to her art, her life would be shortened. That was before she’d fallen in love with Nate, Dylan and Sheamus. Research had proved that love could lengthen a life, but, ideally, she’d want to stay with them for what she could give them, not for what they could give her. The question was, could she still be a loving, giving woman if she let her dream go and stayed with them?

The answer, she realized with sudden insight, was that she could if she was determined to. Love wasn’t a blast of emotion showered on one by fate. It was a decision made and recommitted to every day.

She felt a stirring of character muscle—a fragile one, she decided, laughing at the word. She could do this.

If Nate still wanted her to.

* * *

S
ANDY
MADE
A
TURN
in front of the mirror at Clarissa’s in a long-sleeved, loose-fitting, emerald-green gown.

“Too much for Astoria?” She looked doubtfully at her reflection.

Bobbie went to stand beside her in a red taffeta dress that hugged her waist and skimmed her ankles. It had a V-neck and cap sleeves, simplicity lending it drama. Her hair was growing, she noted in some surprise as she studied herself. Her curls had quieted and the little bit of length gave more volume. She was herself again—not quite the girl in her art school graduation photo, but who wanted to go backward, anyway?

“There’s no such thing as ‘too much’ for the holidays. Turn around and let’s see the back.”

Sandy turned dutifully, looking elegant and graceful.

“It’s exquisite,” Bobbie said, thrilled by a new sense of comfort with herself. She patted her hair. “You think we should use glitter hair spray?”

Sandy gave her an affectionate shove. “No. You don’t need anything artificial to make you sparkle. You’re in love with Nate, aren’t you?”

Bobbie drew a deep breath and said it aloud. “I’m in love with Nate.”

“Does he know?

“I think so. He just doesn’t know that I know.”

After giving her a hug, Sandy turned her toward the dressing rooms. “I’m so happy. Let’s go get some lunch, then not eat again until the dance. One rice cracker and I won’t be able to fit into this!”

* * *

N
ATE
HOSTED
THE
last formal meeting of the food bank committee before the highlight event on Saturday. Sandy’s report on the raffle items collected was very impressive, and various subcommittee reports on decorations, menu, entertainment, cleanup and scores of other details showed they were on track and on time.

Even Sandy seemed a little stunned. Actually, Nate thought, she seemed sedated. Her usually lively personality was nowhere in evidence, though her organizational skills certainly were. He wondered if her behavior had anything to do with Hunter’s sudden call from an important client who needed him across town immediately—just before the meeting began.

“I didn’t hear your phone ring,” Nate had challenged when his friend said he had to leave. Hunter had shrugged into his jacket. “He texted me,” he said flatly. “Want me to bring pizzas for the office when I come back?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Your meeting will be over by then, right?”

“Yes.”

“Good. See you around twelve-thirty.” And he’d disappeared just as Sandy’s car pulled up.

Sandy tried to force a smile now. “Well, troops. I think we’ve done it. So, we’ll all be there Friday night to set up....” She turned to Nate. “The painting is gorgeous. You are very impressive as an Old Astoria ship captain.”

She indicated the picture Bobbie had delivered to Nate the day before. He’d taken down a ship’s wheel that had hung near the conference table and put up Bobbie’s work.

He turned to look at it. The canvas was almost monochromatic, with the soft gray to dark blue tones of a typical Astoria day in winter. The background was a representation of the Butterfly Fleet, the ship that Nate’s sea captain would have sailed to Astoria, and the piers and canneries along the riverbank. Splashes of red, yellow and orange suggested figures on the pier and others barely visible on the boats.

What made his heart swell, though, was the figure in the forefront that represented the several hours he’d posed in Bobbie’s workroom. He knew he was not that handsome, didn’t have that much character in his chin or heroic attitude in the angle of his head. There was a longing in his every waking moment, though, that matched the expression in the captain’s eyes as he looked out on the river.

Bobbie Molloy loved him.

He tore his eyes from the painting and bowed. “Thank you, thank you. Anything for the team.”

“I’m sure all those hours spent alone with that pretty artist were hard on you,” Jerry Gold said with a flat smile. “Poor guy.”

Clarissa, seated next to Jerry, swatted him with her notes. “Leave him alone. We’ve all been in love. Only trouble is that now he’ll
never
get to meetings on time.”

Mike Wallis laughed. “Ticket sales are brisk,” he said. “We’ve made several thousand dollars already, and I’m sure sales will increase at the dance when guests can actually see the items in the raffle. The
Daily Astorian’
s photographs in last Friday’s paper got the buzz going.”

Sandy heaved a sigh. “Well, we should be proud of ourselves. I think we’re going to pull this off.”

“You’ve done a superb job,” Clarissa declared. “I think we already have more money than anybody’s ever raised for anything around here. Well done, Sandy.” She began to applaud, and everyone joined her.

To their astonishment, Sandy closed her folder, snatched up her purse and ran from the room, her chin trembling. There was an awkward moment of silence while everyone stared after her.

Clarissa cleared her throat and briskly began to pack up. “She’s probably exhausted herself.” Then she grinned around the table. “And you all make me want to burst into tears, too. See everyone Friday night?”

The group dispersed to go back to their workplaces. Nate walked them to the door and marveled at how generous they were with their time and enthusiasm.

But what was wrong with Sandy?

He asked Hunter when he came back with the pizza.

The girls were eating in the conference room and Nate made a fresh pot of coffee while Hunter scoured the utility drawer for a server.

“She ran out of here like her heart was broken,” Nate said. Hunter glowered at him. “Just because you’ve been immortalized by the woman you love as a heroic seaman from another age, don’t expect everything to work out for everyone.”

Okay. So Bobbie’s feelings for him were apparent to everyone. Nate had a hard time mustering any embarrassment about that.

“What happened?” he asked bravely.

Hunter slashed him with a look. He was shorter than Nate but beefier, and had Nate been any less sure of his friendship, he’d have withdrawn the question. “Come on.” He grinned. “I’d make kindling of you in a heartbeat.”

“Raleigh,” Hunter said in complete annoyance. He’d found the server and slammed it on the counter. “It’s my business, okay? I owe you a lot, but not an explanation of my romantic failures.”

“Failures? She looks at you like she’s waited for you her whole life. Disagreeing on some issue doesn’t make
you
a failure. What happened?”

Hunter picked up the utensil, and Nate was afraid for a moment that he was about to be served up in eight pieces. But Hunter simply turned around to lean a hip on the counter and groan in anguish.

“I have nothing, Nate, to support a family. I have a twelve-year-old car, I live in an apartment and I still owe thirty-two thousand bucks on the credit card I used to buy equipment and outfit my office before I lost it all. She’s serious
now
. She wants a husband and a father for her girls
now
. I’m trying to resist getting too serious until I win the lottery or go to Vegas and make a killing.”

“You think either of those things is likely?”

“No. But it’s more likely than being able to save enough to marry a family of three.” He looked down at his shoes, morose, defeated. “She doesn’t understand. She makes a fair amount and has health insurance, but it’d take both of us working full-time to cover my bills, too. The girls will soon be in school and they should live in a house with a yard and a swing set.” He looked up at Nate, clearly miserable. “Sandy thinks love will conquer all.”

Nate was counting on that working for him. He tried to think clearly. “Do you need a raise?”

Hunter threatened him with the server. “You already pay me more than the big firms pay a CPA. No, I have to find a way out from under the debt I carry from the embezzlement. And I just don’t see that happening except month by month in a tediously slow process. The girls will be teenagers before I’m clear.”