The Calendar of New Beginnings (29 page)

“Agreed,” Chase said. “Let’s order some lunch. I have some questions to ask you about your background.”

As Moira looked into the shrewd eyes of Quid-Atch’s chief financial officer, she knew she had a ways to go before she convinced him she was the best candidate for the job.

But she had no doubt she would.

Chapter 20      

Lucy’s first photo shoot happily landed on the day when she’d awoken to discover the vision in her right eye marginally improved. It had only taken a couple weeks, thank God. When she closed her left one, she was able to make out the painter’s signature in the corner of the fake Monet hanging on the wall in her bedroom in Merry Cottage. Her doctor’s words about psychosomatic changes echoed in her ears, but she decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

She’d immediately grabbed her phone from her bedside. Her mom had already sent her a text. Shocker.
 

Are you sure I can’t come for the photo shoot? I promise I won’t be in the way.

Lucy thought about screaming her frustration into a pillow, but decided not to waste the energy.
 

Mom, we talked about this. I’m working with the volunteers individually. People do better with less distractions. Talk to you later. Love you.

She hoped that would satisfy her for the moment. That woman was like a dog with a bone when it came to the calendar. And her hounding hadn’t stopped just because Lucy had agreed to do things her way.

Well, she wasn’t going to let her mom dim her happiness over the improvement in her vision, so she texted the one person she knew would be thrilled. Well, he was the only one who knew, besides Tanner, who was basically a vault, but…

Hey, Andy Cakes! My vision suddenly seems marginally better. I can make out some finer details. Stay tuned. Oh, and thanks for a wonderful time last night. Dinner out with you and Danny was wonderful. Have a great morning.

Clutching her phone to her chest, she focused on the scarves on the brass footboard. She still couldn’t make out the differences between the two red ones, she discovered, when she closed her good eye, or the deeper mustard yellow from the sunshine scarf next to it.

She’d focus on the progress. That’s what she wanted, after all.

Certainly there had been progress in her relationship with Andy. They’d fallen into the dating thing pretty easily over the past couple of weeks, thrilling their families. They’d had years of experience talking, hanging out, and laughing together, so that aspect of their relationship felt as natural as breathing.
 

Then there was the new joy of watching each other while thinking of getting the other person naked—or so Lucy liked to joke to herself. And the touching and kissing? The man had skills there, and if it ever got awkward, like it did the first time he took her bra off last week, they knew how to defuse the weirdness with laughter. Both of them had busted up laughing at her joke about him finally making it to second base. But then they’d quickly discovered second base wasn’t going to satisfy them.

Her phone buzzed.
That’s great. Let me know if Dr. Davidson wants to see you, and I can take off. I had a good night too. Gotta run. Rufus just barfed, and Danny won’t put his pants on. If you don’t hear from me in a few hours, I’ve run away to Bali.

An irrepressible smile spread across her face. He always made her smile. Laughter was the best medicine, he’d say, and he wasn’t kidding. Her spirits were better. Classes were going well. She was grading her first photos of road kill, discovering she had no trouble whatsoever judging their technique or composition.

But she hadn’t taken any more pictures herself. Not until today. She’d been hoping her vision would miraculously correct itself, so she wouldn’t have to learn a new way. At least her vision was back to the condition it had been in before her fight with her mother. Would it improve a little more with time? God, she hoped so, but she couldn’t wait any longer to take the photos for the calendar. Her mother had made that clear.

Another text came in.
Good luck capturing Jill’s maracas. Please don’t feel like you need to share the details. I’ve been scarred enough today between my dog and kid. Call me if you need me.

The last part of his message made her heart clench. They didn’t focus on the problems with her vision, but they didn’t dance around them either. A couple of nights ago, while they were sitting on the couch after Danny had gone to sleep, he’d asked her to describe what her vision looked like now. In halting terms, she’d tried to explain it, and afterwards, he’d held her quietly until she finally made herself drive home.

As she dressed, she decided to call Dr. Davidson to tell him the news. Though she dreaded that he might tell her she was imagining it, making the call was the right thing to do. The phone call was brief because the doctor was in the car on the way to the hospital, but he agreed that her news was encouraging. Afterwards, she drove over to The Grand Mountain Hotel to face her demons.
 

She’d already checked out the media room Chef T had volunteered for today’s shoot. It was equipped with the kind of state-of-the-art equipment Lucy never had in the field, taking photos for humanitarian organizations’ calendars and the like. Yet her work hadn’t suffered for it.

Once again, the volunteers had agreed to draw names to establish the shooting order, and it was Lucy’s luck to begin with Jill. She was grateful her mother’s name had been drawn last, although that meant her mother had more time to shop for a headdress worthy of Cleopatra.

When Lucy entered the hotel’s fancy lobby, Jill met her in a surprisingly conservative white blouse and navy shirt, in keeping with the hotel’s elegant ambiance.
 

“Are you ready, Lucy?” the quirky redhead asked, practically bouncing in her pink ballet slippers, the only nod to her away-from-work style. “Just to get Chef T’s goat, I threatened to show up in his kitchen with only my fruit hat on. He took the day off out of fear. Coward. Since he deprived me of my fun, I asked Moira and Natalie to come and drink mimosas with us. I hope that’s okay. Your mother really wanted to watch, but I told her I’d like to keep it to us girls.”

So her mom had gone around her, looking for Jill’s permission to be there since she didn’t have Lucy’s. Lovely. But even though Jill had denied her request, thank God, Lucy wasn’t off scot-free. Moira was going to be a problem. She was probably going to ask her a bunch of photography questions and notice if she made any mistakes. Great. Like she wasn’t already nervous enough.

Lucy had never taken photos while drinking a mimosa in her life, but heck, it sounded pretty good about now.

“No mothers,” Lucy said as Jill put an arm around her tense shoulders and led her up the hotel’s wide staircase to the office area where the media room was located. “I figured you probably needed some space for your first photo shoot.”

“You too, Lucy,” Jill said. “We all know this isn’t your normal. I hope it at least can be fun for you.”

Was Jill being all sweet and sensitive now? Lucy almost didn’t know how to take that. Had Andy said something to her? No, he wouldn’t have. “Am I that obvious?” It wouldn’t hurt for the volunteers to think she was nervous because this wasn’t her usual subject matter.

“Yep,” Jill said, shaking her playfully. “But we’ll get through this together. Brian says my
maracas
are pretty inspiring.”

Oh, good Lord, here we go
. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to handle that much inspiration, Jill.”

Snickering, she replied, “That’s what he says.”

“You’re so bad,” Lucy said as they made their way down the hallway.
 

When they entered the media room, Natalie and Moira lifted their glasses in salute.

“Welcome to the Fun House,” Natalie said, pointing to Jill’s hat in the center of the small coffee table.

To say it was a mere sombrero covered in fake fruit would have been an insult to every cross-dressing
caballero.
Jill hadn’t selected only tasteful fruits like cherries and apples. No, she’d stuck four bananas, partially raised, in the shape of… Well, any idiot could tell.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it.” Truthfully, she hoped she never would again.

“I made it myself!” Jill said, linking their arms together and leading her over to the cushioned benches in front of the coffee table. “I didn’t like the ones online, and Brian joked that since I was bitching about the selection so much, I should just make one.”

“He now regrets that decision, I bet,” Moira said, chuckling with Natalie.

“How many mimosas have you two already had?” Lucy asked, shaking her head. This photo shoot covered a lot of firsts for her—it was starting to look like it would be her first tipsy shoot too.
 

“Moira’s only had one,” Natalie said, biting her lip. “She can’t hold her liquor.”

“I really can’t,” Moira said, putting her finger to her nose like Doris Day in
Pillow Talk.
“You’re not much better with your Natalie shows.”

“That takes a lot—”

“Let’s get started, shall we?” Lucy said, interrupting Natalie. “Jill, I thought we should start off by talking about who you’re dedicating your month to. You didn’t say at the volunteer party. Is it your grandma?”

“Yep,” her cousin said, shucking off her pants without so much as a what-for. “If Grandma Harriet were alive, she’d think this calendar a hoot. She would have loved my hat.”

Lucy blinked as Jill threw her pants in the corner. Natalie hooted. Moira hiccupped, which might turn out to be a blessing in disguise. Lucy had thought she would have to make Jill comfortable. She should have known better. When her top flew off, Lucy covered her eyes.

“Do you mind?” she asked. “I haven’t had a mimosa yet.”

They must have thought she was joking because they all guffawed. But before she could blink, Natalie pressed a glass into her hand. She looked at it and thought, what the hell, and downed half the contents.

“This is going to be so much fun,” Moira said. “Part of me wants to see you shoot photos of Mom too, but the other part…”

“We might be scarred for life,” Natalie said, “although I have half a mind to send the photos to Dad anonymously at the hospital.”

“That would be the day,” Moira breathed out. “Our dad’s turned into a real prick, in case Andy didn’t tell you.”

She cleared her throat. “He’s mentioned it.”
 

Setting her mimosa down on the table, Lucy unpacked the soft yellow drape she’d chosen for the shoot. She’d thought a uniform color would work best for the calendar, despite what she’d originally told the volunteers about using different settings. Andy had assured her the background she’d chosen was lovely.
 

While her mother hadn’t initially been on board with a uniform setting, she’d relented after Lucy had explained it in technical terms that had made Ellen’s eyes glaze over in a minute. Besides, she’d agreed that they wanted to keep the focus on the subjects, not what was behind them.

Lucy hung the drape on the center background wall and checked the lighting she’d set up the day before. The dressing bench she’d selected from her mother’s bedroom was already situated in front of the drape. Some people were going to sit, she expected, while others would stand. Lucy would have to see what worked best.
 

This wasn’t anything like her usual process for shooting a calendar. Normally she created a story with her photos, building on the theme of the project, strengthening the emotion in each of the images. This time, her subjects had already chosen their months and their themes. All she could do was try and make it look as visually appealing as possible.

“Do you need some help?” Moira asked as she was turning on the strobes. “I know I only dabble, but I love photography.”

Oh brother, here we go.

“It’s more than dabbling, Lucy,” Natalie said. “Moira is pretty darn good. She took one of the best pictures of Blake and me at our first wedding.”

“I know it won’t surprise you, but I wanted to be here today to watch you work.” She gave a slight shrug. “I know Andy said to give you time to settle, but I still…really want to see how you do what you do. I promise to contain my enthusiasm. I hope that doesn’t make you uncomfortable.”

Actually, her interest made Lucy’s stomach roll even more. “I’m not uncomfortable,” she lied. “Are you going to have another mimosa?”

“I’d better stop, or I won’t be able to watch you work your magic.” Moira gave her an encouraging smile.

That’s why I suggested it.
“Jill, do you have a robe or something?” Turning, she realized Jill was drinking her mimosa in her birthday suit. “Seriously, Jill. You could have at least kept your panties on. I’m not taking any pictures south of the border.”

Jill gave her a smoky glance and walked toward her. “All right, Mr. DeMille, I’m ready for my close-up,” she purred like Gloria Swanson herself.

“Oh, good Lord,” Natalie said, reaching down and throwing Jill’s shirt at her. “Put something on, for the love of Pete.”

“We’re all girls here,” Jill said, picking up her red-and-green-striped maracas and shaking them madly.
 

Moira snorted out a laugh.