Handpicked Husband (Love Inspired Historical) (13 page)

As if to emphasize her point, Mr. Hendricks hailed them. “Come look at the supply closet and mudroom we’re putting in. I think you’ll like the way we’ve laid it out.”

“We’ll be right there,” Reggie answered. Then she turned back to Adam. “Anyone can put on a good show in polite company. The next step is to see how they handle the little assignments I’ve given them.”

Yep, she intended to see just what each man was
truly
made of.

Chapter Ten

T
en minutes later, Adam leaned against a beam, only half listening to Hendricks point out the amenities of the nearly completed classroom. He’d gotten this tour earlier and was already satisfied that the work was going well.

He watched Mitchell and Regina, trying to picture them as a married couple. The more he thought about it, the more he concluded the schoolteacher was the best hope for a compatible partner. Mitchell had a solidity about him, a quiet strength that most women would find reassuring, perhaps even attractive.

As a schoolteacher, he should also be the best one to satisfy her concerns about fatherly interaction with Jack.

As for Mitchell, dealing with the blunt, determined Miss Nash might not be a job he’d give his right arm for, but Adam believed the widower just might be up to it.

All in all, it would be a good match. No doubt Mitchell was the one the judge had in mind when he’d planned all of this.

And yet...

Adam shifted, some niggling dissatisfaction nagging at him.

Mitchell had come to the judge’s attention because he’d gotten himself involved in a land dispute and ended up killing someone. The action might have been justified, but was that the sort of person Judge Madison wanted looking after his granddaughter and great-grandson?

Surely she deserved better.

He straightened and shoved his hands in his pockets, swallowing an oath. He needed to get away from here, away from this assignment. Already he’d gotten himself too involved in these people and their troubles. He should be focusing on his own affairs, not theirs.

Regina gave him a searching look, as if sensing his mood.

Then she tugged the strings of her handbag. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave you to discuss the finer points of construction. I’m headed for my studio.”

Adam pushed away from the beam. “Mind if I walk with you?”

She eyed him suspiciously, hesitating a moment, then smiled. “Not at all.”

They walked in silence until they’d left the schoolyard. “So,” he finally said, “tell me what it is you like about being a photographer?”

Regina cut him a sideways glance, as if trying to gauge his intent. “I imagine it’s the same sort of thing you liked about being a lawyer.”

What would she know about his passion for arguing a case?

He thought she would leave it at that. Then her expression softened. “My father considered photography a special calling, an art form. I guess some of that feeling rubbed off on me. He used to say, when a person asks you to take a picture, they’re entrusting a bit of history to you. They’re asking you to capture a special person or event in their lives, to preserve that moment for them and for those who come after them.”

Regina moved one hand, fingertips closing, as if plucking the words she needed from the air. “When you can arrange it so the lighting, the setting and the subject all work together just exactly right, it’s an almost mystical experience.”

She blinked and smiled self-consciously. “I suppose that sounds silly.”

“Not at all. A person
should
feel passionate about the work they do. It adds zest to your life, gives you something to fire your imagination and stretch your abilities.” She’d been correct. It was the way he used to feel about his own work.

It was how he now felt about his quest to clear his name.

“Exactly!” Her smile was genuine this time.

For once it seemed they were in perfect agreement. “How about when you photograph plants?” he asked, wanting to keep her talking. “I don’t imagine that’s the same. I mean, you don’t have to worry about posing and capturing expressions.”

Regina frowned. “You’re right, it’s not the same. In a way, it’s even more challenging.” She fiddled with the collar of her dress. “With people, I have to work within their vision of how the photograph should look. And usually the customer is more concerned with projecting who they want to be rather than who they are.”

Her hands were in motion again, as if she needed more than words to explain. “With plants, though, I can experiment however I like. I’m free to capture both the flower and the thorn, the beauty and the harshness. In the end, I only have to please myself, and I’m my own most demanding client.”

She laughed. Was there the trace of a blush on her cheeks? “There I go, chattering on. I don’t expect you to understand what I’m talking about. I barely understand myself.”

Actually, he did understand, at least to a certain degree.

“Hello, Reggie, Mr. Barr. How are you this morning?”

Adam looked up, annoyed at the interruption. He was even more annoyed to find Eileen Pierce smiling coquettishly at him. The banker’s wife was attired in a surprisingly fashionable frock for such a provincial town. The frilly parasol she carried was tilted at an angle that both shaded her face and framed it at a calculatedly fetching angle.

“Hello, Eileen.” Reggie’s smile was polite but not overly warm. “Out doing your morning shopping?”

Mrs. Pierce gave a tinkling laugh. “Oh, Reggie, you are so droll. You know Mrs. Coffey runs all my household errands.” She slanted her eyes at Adam. “I just felt the urge to enjoy a bit of sunshine this morning.”

“It is a nice day for a stroll,” Adam commented politely.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Regina interjected, “I need to get on over to my studio.”

The banker’s wife gave another of those laughs. “That’s our Reggie. Always busy with some task or other.” She paused and then her eyes widened. “Why, I just had a thought. Since Reggie is so busy, why don’t I show Mr. Barr around town?”

Adam took Regina’s hand and tucked it over his arm before she could move away. “As attractive as that offer sounds, I already made a prior commitment to accompany Miss Nash to her studio. Perhaps another time.”

The woman’s smile slipped for a moment, then returned brighter than before. “Of course. I look forward to it.” With a regal nod, she sailed past them.

Regina glanced at him as they resumed their walk. “Prior commitment?”

“I agreed to accompany you, didn’t I?”

Her face split into a wide grin. “I don’t think Eileen’s favors have been rebuffed so firmly in quite a while.”

He shrugged. “I don’t care for the kind of games her type likes to play.”

“I see.”

Her voice held that hard-to-interpret tone again.

They strolled in silence for a while. She finally halted in front of her studio. “Here we are,” she said unnecessarily. “Thanks for the escort, but you really don’t need to come in.” She glanced through the large front window. “I see Ira is already here.”

Adam reached for the doorknob. “I don’t mind. Unless you’d rather I didn’t?”

She hesitated, then lifted her chin in that you-don’t-intimidate-me way she had. “Suit yourself.”

He opened the door, setting the bell mounted above it jingling. He allowed Regina to flounce past him before following her inside.

“Hi there.” Ira paused in the act of setting up a ladder. “I see you brought some help.”

Regina’s only response was an unladylike noise.

“You just missed Patience Bruder,” Ira continued. “She made an appointment for tomorrow morning.”

While they spoke, Adam studied the framed photographs gracing the walls. He’d only glanced casually at them yesterday. Most of the pictures were standard fare—stiffly posed subjects, some in groups, some alone, all looking about as cheerful as if they were attending a funeral.

One of the photographs, though, was different. It depicted a woman and child sitting side by side on a sofa. The little girl snuggled against the woman, while the woman held an open book of fairy tales.

What made this one stand out, though, was not the pose but the expressions on the subjects’ faces. Neither seemed aware of the camera. Their eyes were focused on each other and the child’s innocence and the woman’s tenderness was almost real enough to touch.

Regina stepped up beside him. “I wish I could get more clients to relax like that,” she said wistfully. “Most of them prefer more traditional poses.”

“It probably makes them feel less vulnerable, more in control of the outcome.”

She gave him a surprised look. “I never thought of it that way.” Then she tilted her head. “What about you? Have you ever been photographed?”

He shook his head.

“Well then, perhaps we’ll have the chance to remedy that before you leave Turnabout.”

“I don’t think I’ll need a souvenir to remember this little adventure,” he commented sardonically.

That drew her brow up again. “Is that how you think of this? As a ‘little adventure’?”

Adam mentally winced. He hadn’t intended to get her riled again. “Poor choice of words,” he said by way of apology, then quickly changed the subject. “I don’t see any of your botanical studies here.”

She shrugged. “Those aren’t what bring in the business.”

“But you do have some around? The description you gave of the difference in technique was interesting. I’d like to see what the finished product looks like.”

“As I said, I do most of those for a scientific journal. I ship them off in lots almost as soon as they’re developed.”

“But not all of them.”

“She has a portfolio up in her office,” Ira volunteered.

Regina shot the older man an irritated glance. “I’m afraid my office is in no shape for visitors right now.”

“What about those photographs you developed last night?” Adam wasn’t sure why he pressed her on this. Somehow it seemed important that she allow him into this part of her world.

Regina fingered her collar as she nibbled on her lip. For a moment he saw the girl she’d once been in the woman standing there.

“Oh, very well.” Her tone conveyed a decided lack of enthusiasm. “Though why you should be interested in seeing some pictures of flowers, I can’t imagine.”

She turned and stalked toward the stairs.

Adam followed at a slower pace, meeting Ira’s gaze as he passed. The gold-toothed handyman had a grin as wide as a melon slice.

Adam topped the stairs to find Regina already halfway across the storeroom. Without turning to see if he followed, she opened her workroom door and stepped inside, lifting the window shade to let in some light.

By the time he caught up, she stood with her hands primly clasped in front of her. “There they are.” She nodded toward a set of racks. “Look all you like, just don’t touch anything. I’ll be in the storeroom.”

Adam stepped aside to let her pass, wondering why she seemed so nervous. It hadn’t bothered her when he’d looked at the photographs on display downstairs.

More curious than ever, he moved to the pictures. And discovered a whole new side to Miss Regina Nash.

Even in the low light, he could tell these had been taken by a true artist. Each plant had been captured at its prime, with the light shining on it at just the right angle to showcase its shape and texture. Some of the specimens were growing in areas that must have required her to work in unpleasant conditions.

One photograph in particular caught his eye. Adam took a closer look and barely stopped himself from picking it up. Something about this one reminded him of Regina herself.

A prickly vine that one normally wouldn’t give a second glance to had somehow found a way to lift itself off the ground and boldly stand upright. The three nondescript blossoms set amid the briars were just enough to soften its appearance without taking away from its feisty defiance. Then there was the use of a glittery backdrop, a spangled spider web of all things, to make the world sit up and take notice.

A smile tugged the corner of his mouth. Oh, yes, this was Mother Nature’s own version of Regina Nash and her can’t-ignore-me wagon.

Adam stepped out of the workroom a moment later to find Regina staring at the contents of a lower cupboard. He cleared his throat to make his presence known.

She straightened abruptly. “All done?”

“Yes. Thanks for letting me have a look. A remarkable collection.”

“I’m glad you approve,” she said uncomfortably, before turning away again.

“In fact,” he said impulsively, “I’d like to purchase one of them.”

She glanced over her shoulder and he could tell she was as startled as he by the offer. “You want to buy one of my photographs?”

“Yes, I do.” Suddenly he was quite certain he had to have it. “I’m interested in the one of the prickly vine and spider web.”

Something flickered in her expression. “Why that one?”

He shrugged. “It reminds me of something.”

“You have a good eye—that’s the best of the lot.” She turned to face him fully. “But I already have a buyer for those.”

Her reluctance only made him more determined. “I’m certain you don’t send them every photograph you take.” He waved a hand. “I only want the one, and I’ll pay you the same price as your other buyer.”

She hesitated a moment longer, then nodded. “All right, if you’re so set on it. I’ll have it ready for you when you come to supper tonight.”