Love Never Dies (16 page)

“Keep in touch,” said Simon
, rising from the wobbly, uncomfortable chair. He left his half-empty pint of beer on the table as he wove through the crowded mass of partying people and disappeared out the smoky entrance of the bar.

Stan cursed loudly under his breath, finally reaching across the stained table to retrieve the neglected glass and lift it to his own lips.
He downed it in one gulp. He had to admit the Canadian had guts, and resigned himself to the fact he and Simon were partners. Stan slammed down his beer and pocketed the business card, noting the hotel’s nearby address. A shapely blonde eyed him from under lowered lids from the bar, her cosmetically enhanced figure poured into a skintight black dress. Stan smiled across at her, inviting her to join him with the simple lifting of his black eyebrows. There were so many more interesting things to do than worry about Simon Hayes’ self-prescribed mission and he raised a finger to the waiter to deliver two more beers as the blonde glided toward his table.

Simon showed up promptly at
9:30 in front of Little Peter’s. The art gallery was hosting an impressionistic display of several local artists and Simon stuck his hands into the pockets of his blue jeans and shivered in the October morning. The days were definitely getting cooler and foggier, and while much warmer than Toronto’s icy gloom he recognized this beach city also had its share of winter. He watched the trio approach. Angie and Paul strolled hand-in-hand, both dressed casually in blue denims and colorful tee tops under matching denim jackets. Julia was clad in a pair of black pants and a purple sweater, the narrow trousers emphasizing her thinness, and Simon sighed. She had lost too much weight in her ordeal.

The three pulled up in front of Simon
, who smiled across to them, recognizing Julia’s tentative response. He’d taken care with his appearance that morning, pulling his hair back into a tight ponytail and wearing a black leather jacket over a snowy white t-shirt tucked into faded blue jeans that had a rip in the left knee. While he resembled his more serious brother, his attire, as well as his demeanor, indicated a totally separate individual and Julia visibly relaxed at his appearance. Simon extended his hand to the trio, making sure he didn’t grip Julia’s hand any longer than the newlyweds.

“Planning on buying some paintings?” asked Paul
, his green eyes scanning the easels lining the promenade.

“Some of them are not half
-
bad,” adm
itted Simon, “but since I’m only renting my suite for the next couple of months, I’m not sure I can load myself down with any artwork right now.”

“Let’s go in,” said Angie eagerly.
She had a huge desire to place her own personal mark on the condo she now shared with her new husband, and a fresh new painting was just what she had in mind.

“There’s a woman exhibiting here n
amed Gloria Montabelli, who’s supposed to have done an exciting series of paintings of ocean birds,” stated Julia, smiling gently at Simon, her blonde hair fluttering in the constant wind that battered Santa Barbara’s shoreline in fall.

“I’ll hold on to my wallet,” Simon responded easily
, and followed the Morris’ into the trendy art gallery.

The exhibition was far more extensive than
Simon had anticipated and the four wandered through the crowded promenade, enjoying the paintings and often gasping at the outrageous price tags. Julia remained withdrawn and Simon never tried to force her into conversation, instead chatting quietly to Angie and Paul who exhibited all the symptoms of newlyweds. They were never able to stop touching, their heads bowed closely together as they spoke in soft caressing whispers. The couple finally settled on a small painting of a Black Oystercatcher, a Santa Barbara native, pecking at a sand crab as the foamy white salt water dashed over its webbed feet.

“That will
look lovely in our bathroom,” said Angie excitedly, and Simon grinned as they haggled over the price with the eager artist who was only too willing to negotiate.

“So how’s school been?” asked Simon quietly as Julia studied an ocean scene depicting a surfer taking his life into his own hands as he topped the crest of a particularly fearsome
looking wave.

“Things have been just great,” returned Julia mildly. This was her stock answer and Simon cocked an eyebrow at her and though he didn’t believe her, gave an equally benign response.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“So you finished your stint at the firm?”

“Yep. Old Lenny didn’t want to let me go, but I just couldn’t stand working there another day. I did manage to go on site and see the wrap up of the little mini-market complex Seth had designed last year. It was a comforting feeling seeing the beautiful lines of those red-tiled buildings. He did a fine job.”

“Where is it?” asked Julia
, suddenly interested.

“You know where
Goleta is? The center is two blocks north of Turnpike Road, right on the corner. Maybe you’d like to drive up there sometime and see how his last job turned out?”

Julia stiffened visibly before letting out
a shaky breath. “I think I’d enjoy that.”

“Would you like me to drive you up there?
I know the way and when you view the center, it’s like a piece of him survived somehow. That is if you wouldn’t mind putting up with the likes of me?”

Julia peered across at him, studying his hands
ome face. “I don’t think I’d mind at all. Are you busy tomorrow Simon?”

“Nope,” he said
. “I’ve currently joined the ranks of the unemployed. I’ll bring my camera and take a couple shots. Hey, it finally appears Paul and Angie have stopped haggling over the price and obtained their painting.”

Her sister-in-law hugged the small paper
-wrapped painting with an air of triumph.

“They got their price,” laughed Julia.

Thirty minutes later they sat at a sidewalk café admiring the lifelike painting while Paul boasted about his negotiating abilities. California gulls screeched overhead, while brown house sparrows waited on the white railing of the café, hoping to snag some crumbs. Simon lifted the top slice of his club sandwich and added a lethal dose of hot sauce as Angie shivered.

“Well, that’s one way you resemble your brother.
He always liked to add spicy sauce to his food. I remember once he whipped up this Thai stir-fry for all of us one Sunday afternoon. I thought I was going to die and must have consumed a gallon of water to wash it down.”

“Seth did love to co
ok, and enjoyed his chilies and peppers. I think we both got that from our mother’s side. Her grandfather had been Portuguese and used to do a seafood mix on the grill, adding so much peri peri I swore we’d all expire in one big puff of smoke.” He grinned and took another hearty bite of his sandwich.

“I’
ve noticed Simon,” said Angie, spreading brown mustard over her tuna melt, “that you walk with a definite limp. What happened?”

“I can see at finishing school they certainly didn’t teach tact,” said Paul gruffly, frowning at Angie who shrugged innocently.

Julia laughed. Angie’s overt questioning skills had always been a sense of amusement to both her and their parents and she sincerely hoped that someday Paul would get used to it. Simon didn’t seem to take offense.

“Well that’
s quite a story,” he said, “and one my brother Seth used to tell with relish. I have always considered myself a pretty good skier and on this particular occasion my brother and I had visited a ski resort just north of Ottawa. We both arrived stag and there was this cutest little ski bunny on the slopes. I remember she was dressed in a hot pink jumpsuit with this delectable zipper up the front. She had the mandatory white ski boots, long blonde hair, and the clearest china blue eyes you’d ever seen. I fell instantly in love. I remember Seth warning me about how treacherous the slope was and reminding me to be extremely careful on one particularly sharp turn. But there she was, that pink angel in the snow, and I decided to prove what an expert skier I am.”

Angie
took a bit of her sandwich and munched happily. This was the kind of story she loved.

“Anyway, I swore I had everythi
ng under control, but while heading downhill this tree reached out and tripped me.”

“The tree reached out and tripped you?” repeated Julia.
“I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of that happening before.”

“I swear to God that’s what happened,” said Simon
, crossing his heart. “I’m positive I was at least three feet away from that blasted tree before it just jumped into my path and stuck out a root. My skis got all tangled up and I flew head over heels to find myself embracing the tree trunk. After my brother finally stopped laughing the medical team from the resort rushed me to the emergency ward and I’ve unfortunately paid for my infatuation with the pink snow bunny by sporting a very unsexy limp ever since. The leg was coming along just fine until I re-injured it a couple of months ago and now must seek further physical therapy.”

“That just goes to show you need to watch out for blondes,” said Paul
, winking at his sister and taking hearty bite of his reuben sandwich. He followed it up with a large gulp of bottled beer while Angie punched his arm.

“That was a nice story,” stated Julia
, wiping her mouth and pushing her plate away. Half of her turkey sandwich remained untouched and Paul frowned.

“Ah, that reminds me,” said Simon
, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his billfold. Flipping it open he retrieved a glossy photograph. Julia wiped her hands before taking the extended photograph.

“That was snapped
just before the ski bunny incident. Would you like to have it?” Both Angie and Paul leaned over to gaze at the glossy photo which showed Seth and Simon, arms about each other’s shoulders and dressed in identical white and navy blue ski suits, their poles balanced upon their shoulders. They appeared happy and carefree; Simon laughing while Seth, always the more serious, gazed somberly at the camera.

“I wouldn’t mind a copy,” said Julia.
“But I suspect it’s one of the last taken of you two together. I think you should keep the original, Simon. But a copy would be great.”

“I’ll see if I can find the negative for you,” said Simon
lightly, not enjoying the dark expression hovering over her face. “It’s very evident from this photograph that I’m the much better skier.”

Angie snorted with laughter and even Julia managed to grin.
“Oh really? Is that before or after your leg was placed in a cast?” They all laughed heartily as Simon tucked the photo back into his wallet.

If Julia
had been more observant she might have noticed Simon often casting a glance over his shoulder as he scanned the busy promenade of Santa Barbara or even spotted a dark-haired denim-clad man lounging near where they wandered unhurriedly down the long boardwalk. Once, a nonchalant Simon nodded to the mustached man who casually strolled in the opposite direction. Julia never noticed the slight bulge under the left armhole of Simon’s jacket for she kept herself respectively distant from him. Perhaps it was best she didn’t know that in Seth’s brother she had inherited a bodyguard.