“I haven’t seen an old tom turkey in a couple of years, but I think I may do a metal piece of one when I finish the replica of this old live oak tree we’re sitting under,” Arty said. “It’s been giving me fits with all the intricate limbs and the twisted trunk.”
Filly laid her hand on his shoulder. “I’ve got faith in your artwork.”
“Sweet Lord!” Arty laid a hand over his chest. “The world is coming to an end. This darlin’ woman said something nice to me.”
“Oh, hush!” Filly slapped him on the arm. “Ignore him, Em. He’s being a smart-ass again, and to answer your question, I’ve been working on a necklace made of tiny wood pieces woven into leather. I’m going to paint rosebuds on the wood when I get the first phase done, and I think I’ll make a matching bracelet.”
“That sounds beautiful,” Emma said. “What about you, Josh?”
“I saw that same turkey, and like Arty, I hadn’t seen one in a couple of years, so that inspired me to draw one. Leo mentioned something about me working a spot of color into a painting, so I thought I’d give that little mesquite grove some green leaves,” Josh answered.
“Well, I can’t wait to see that one.” Filly winked at Josh.
Emma noticed that his cheeks turned scarlet and wondered what the inside joke was. If she had learned anything from living in a dysfunctional family, it was to watch her parents’ expressions. When she came home from college, she could read Victoria’s and Wyatt’s moods simply by looking at them. Something had caused Josh to blush, and she couldn’t help but wonder what it was.
“Maybe instead of rosebuds on my necklace”—Filly abruptly changed the subject—“I will paint small feathers on it. That would give it a more southwestern feel with the wood and leather, and y’all are all working with turkeys, so we could make it a family thing.”
A family thing. Those three words stuck in Emma’s mind. She had had many dinners with her mother and father, but not once had there been anything like game night, or even vacations. They were both too wound up in their jobs for such tomfoolery, as Victoria called it. The closest thing to a vacation that Emma ever had was when Rebel asked if she would like to join her and Sophie on a Saturday trip to Six Flags.
The happiness she had felt that day rushed over her as she remembered the fun of riding the roller coasters, eating hot dogs and cotton candy, and getting to buy souvenirs to take home. But the shadow of Victoria’s attitude came back to ruin the moment of euphoria. When Emma had handed her a tiny shot glass with the Six Flags logo on it, she had frowned and said, “This has to be the tackiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
At least Daddy pretended to be proud of the one I gave him, and he put it on the desk in his office, she thought. I kind of feel sorry for him for having to put up with Mother.
Josh would have liked to stay longer at Emma’s that evening, but after everyone had seen her new painting, Arty and Filly both wanted to get back to their houses to watch their favorite reality television show. The air in the trailer grew heavy, the awkwardness stretching between them, so he made an excuse and hurried outside. Back at his trailer, he hooked up his little square record player on the back porch and sat down on the steps to listen to some of his vinyl collection—while he scolded himself for not taking advantage of the situation and talking to Emma.
When Simon and Garfunkel started singing “Bridge Over Troubled Water,” he closed his eyes and let one of his favorite songs sink deep into his soul. He was thinking that this song could so easily be his song to Emma and didn’t even realize anyone was close by until she spoke his name.
His eyes popped wide-open and he stammered, “You startled me.”
“Then we’re even. You gave me a start at supper,” she said. “I was lonesome, so I came out for a walk. That’s one of my favorite songs—I didn’t know anyone even had records anymore. I thought everyone had gone to using their phones to bring up music.”
“Got time to sit down for a little while?” He moved his legs to give her space.
“Sure.” She nodded and took a seat. “I used to listen to this song over and over. Mother said the music I liked was depressing.”
Josh’s folks fussed about his obsession with art, but they gave up trying to transform him into a brain surgeon or a nuclear physicist when he was eighteen and refused to go to college. “What other songs did you listen to?”
“I like the older country music and jazz,” she answered. “Especially Etta James and Sam Cooke, and some Cajun. But after the second round of being in an institution, I quit listening to anything except what Mother thought was appropriate for me.”
“Why would you do that?” Josh asked.
“My therapist agreed with Mother and thought that maybe the music was depressing me even more, so . . .” She shrugged.
The song ended, and the needle came back to rest in the right place. He didn’t want her to go, so he asked, “And now?”
“I would listen to all of it now, but”—she blushed—“I got mad and threw my phone away the first day I was here. Mother could trace me with it, and she was really angry, so I knew she would come down here and make me go back to a long-term care center.”
“Well, you are welcome to come listen to my vinyls anytime you want,” he said. “I’ve got an Etta James and also a couple of George Jones. We could just sit here and listen to them this evening if you want to.”
“I’d like that.” She smiled.
He made a mental picture of the way her eyes lit up. Sometime that week, he was going to draw her again—this time from the waist up, with her hair in braids and Filly’s necklace hanging down between her breasts. A fiery heat started on his neck at the thought of drawing something that close to an intimate part of her body. He jumped up and hurried into the trailer so Emma wouldn’t see him blush. While he was inside, he splashed cold water on his face and picked out half a dozen records.
That was Emma out there on his porch. Sure, they’d taken walks together and even spent a day working on their art, but that wasn’t like a date. This was—at least to him it was. He’d never been on a date, and he wasn’t sure how it should all go. Didn’t most of them involve dinner and a movie?
You are both artists. His grandfather popped into his head with a chuckle. You don’t do things like other people. Evidently, she likes spending time with you or she wouldn’t be waiting for you. Now get it in gear and get back out there with her. She might not want to wait forever.
“Sorry I took so long,” he said when he carried the records out to the porch. “I should have asked you to come in and pick out whatever you like. I have a really big collection. Would you like a beer or something to drink?”
“I’m sure whatever you’ve got is fine, and I don’t need anything to drink right now,” she said.
He removed the record on the player and put on a George Jones. “We had this elderly guy who was my grandpa’s friend. Harry was his name, and he and his wife, Sally, lived down the street from us. When Harry’s wife died, he spent even more time with me. We used to listen to his vinyl records and go fishing together. Then a year later he passed away and left a big chunk of his money to me. Before that, though, Harry gave me that old record player right there and all his vinyls. I’ve got a fancy stereo setup in the house, but I bring this one outside and listen to the music, like we did back when . . .” He choked up at the memory.
“Sophie and I used to listen to music together. I missed that when she wasn’t there anymore,” Emma said.
“I still miss him”—he swallowed hard—“a lot.”
“I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine losing Sophie. We hadn’t talked in years, but friendship like we have and what you had with Harry doesn’t need words every day. It’s just knowing that that person is there,” she said. “But your friend is gone, and that has to leave a hole in your heart.” She slapped a hand over her mouth. “I’m so, so sorry. That came out wrong. I would never . . .”
He reached over and removed her hand. “
It’s okay, and you are right. It did hurt for a long time, but now I just think of all the good memories and let go of the pain. I do feel bad that I didn’t go to his funeral, but I couldn’t bear to see him in a casket. I wanted to remember him sitting in his living room with me while we listened to his records.”
“Then you did what was right for you,” Emma said. “That’s all any of us can do when it comes right down to it. I’ve tried for all my life to make my mother happy, but it’s only been since I came here that I’ve realized that’s impossible. She doesn’t like me or my father. She only likes her fancy friends, her money, and her job. And even at that I wonder if she even likes herself. How could anyone so calculating and self-centered like themselves?”
“I think my folks like me,” Josh said, “especially now that I’m getting a name in the art world, but I’ve always felt like I disappointed them. I hated school, so that put an end to me becoming something they understood and could be proud of. My dad wasn’t real happy when Harry named me as the heir to his estate. He and Mother have only visited me a couple of times here at the trailer park. They both thought I was crazy for buying it, and for not moving into my grandpa’s big mansion. But before he died, Harry told me that I should make myself happy. This place makes me happy.”
“Artists are often . . .” She shrugged. “You know.”
“Yes, I do.” He sat down beside her on the top step but kept his distance.
Sophie had told them when she first brought Emma to the park that she was a little like Coco. Josh understood that it would take time for her to be comfortable with him, but he had hopes that someday she could see him as a real friend—and maybe more.
Chapter Thirteen
Sophie stood in the middle of the building that might be the art gallery and let the spirit of the place talk to her. That would sound crazy if anyone else felt that way, but she was an artist, and to be able to work in a place, she had to be at peace in it.
The old building had such character, with its high ceilings that were covered in copper tiles. True, they’d been painted pale blue, but the detail was still there, and someday if Sophie and Teddy wanted to have them stripped, there was that possibility. The walls needed a fresh coat of paint, but the black-and-white floor tiles, so evocative of the seventies, would be perfect once they were cleaned and waxed to a shine.
“Oh,” Sophie gasped when she saw the loft where her studio would be. “Once those windows are cleaned, there will be light and”—she stopped and wrapped her arms around Teddy’s neck—“is this really going to happen?”
Teddy removed his glasses and cleaned them on the tail of his shirt. “I see us being happy here, don’t you?”
She pulled him to her lips for a long, steamy kiss. They were both panting when she took a step back. “This building loves us, but this is all so perfect that I feel like the other shoe will drop any minute. Are you sure you are ready to settle into one place and to be committed to store hours? You won’t regret this decision in a few years, will you? You’re used to traveling and setting up shows for artists—to wheeling and dealing and selling their things. Are you going to be happy just working with me and selling art out of this place?”
“I will absolutely never regret it. Knowing that between customers I can run up those stairs and make out with you through the day, and have lunch with you, go home with you, sleep with you every night. You want me to yell yes from the rooftop of this building?” Teddy grinned.
“Just from the depths of your heart,” Sophie answered.
“You got it, darlin’. Shall we go downstairs and make an offer on the place?” He tucked her arm into his.
“Yes, please, and thank you.” This was happening way too fast, but then perhaps that’s the way it had to work or else she would go insane with worry over every little decision.
“Hey, don’t thank me. This is a joint effort. You are going to have to keep the work coming to hang on the walls, and”—he escorted her down the stairs—“talk your friends into letting us display their art as well. You’ve got your job cut out for you as much as I do. And, honey, if you need to go off to the wilds to paint for a couple of days now and then, I might pout, but I’ll understand.”
“I love you more every day,” Sophie said.
“Of course you do. I’m your soul mate.” He gave her a squeeze as they headed toward the front of the building, where the Realtor waited.
There was no doubt about him being her soul mate, but there was still just a little something hanging on in her heart that worried that she might be caving in because she didn’t want to disappoint Teddy. She would have to get rid of it—somehow, some way—before they had the broom ceremony.
Emma had worried about how much the phone that she’d asked Josh and Arty to pick up when they went to town would cost. She had little to no idea what the price of anything was these days, and she only had a hundred dollars in her purse. “Dammit!” she swore as she stared at a hummingbird flitting around the red flower on a cactus not far from the back porch. “No mother should treat her child like this. Even a teeny-tiny hummingbird protects its babies. They don’t mentally abuse them, and they damn sure don’t take away their money so they can’t even buy a phone.”
She was still keeping an eye on the bird when the landline rang. She rushed inside and caught it on the fourth ring.
“Hello,” she panted.
“Hey, girl, did I get you out of bed with some handsome guy?” Sophie teased.
Emma’s face went up in a red-hot blush. “I might ask you the same question.”
“Not right now, but if you’ll call in about an hour, you’ll hear me trying to catch my breath for sure,” Sophie said. “I’ve got so much to tell you that I don’t even know where to begin. I have to talk fast, because we’re about to board the plane.”
Emma sat down on the floor, leaned back against the bar, and sincerely hoped that the excitement in Sophie’s voice meant it was good news. “Start at the beginning.”
“First of all, the house that Teddy rented is going up for sale, and we’re going to buy it and move in together. He’s going to change jobs, stop traveling, and—”
“You’re going to live in Del Rio,” Emma butted in. “Isn’t that closer to this place than Dallas? If I stay here, we won’t be so far apart. Tell me more.”
“Yep, and there’s two extra bedrooms upstairs if you want to live here with us,” Sophie offered.
“No, thank you,” Emma said. “I love you, and I appreciate the offer, but you and Teddy need to live your own lives. I never want to live in a city again, but I’m happy you’ll be closer than Dallas. I’m still hoping that Josh will rent me this trailer on a permanent basis.”
“Have you talked to him about that?” Sophie asked.
“Not until I see if I can sell enough paintings to afford such a thing. I told Josh to get me a phone when he and Arty go to town. Filly’s going with them this time, and she said she knew just what kind to buy me, but now I’m worried that I won’t have enough money to pay for the damn thing. Mother sure screwed up things when she froze my accounts,” Emma said.
“Well, you’ve got a while to figure that out, because that rent is paid up through the week of July Fourth,” Sophie told her. “And, honey, I talked to my lawyer, and he’s looking into that business. I don’t think she can legally do that.”
“Thank you! I hate to ask, but if that phone is more than what I have . . .”
“There’s money in the coffee can in the freezer, and two envelopes with our grocery money on top of the fridge. Give Josh an envelope a week while I’m gone and use what you need from the freezer. You can pay me back anytime you want,” Sophie said.
“Thank you, again, but I thought we were only going to be here a couple of months.”
“Nope, I pay for April through July. But this year is special. Teddy and I are going to have a broom-jumping ceremony on July Fourth.” Sophie was almost breathless.
“You are engaged!” E
mma squealed. “You committed!”
“I did, but”—Sophie lowered her voice—“I’m still a little worried that maybe I’m just agreeing so that I won’t hurt Teddy’s feelings. We need to have one of those all-nighter talks when I get home.”
“We can do that. But if you love him, and you know it in your heart, what’s there to be worried about? Can I please decorate the broom?” Emma asked.
“Ask Filly if that’s what the maid of honor does. We are only inviting my mother, his dad, and the folks at the park. Then we’re coming back here to Del Rio to honeymoon in our own house while we work on getting the gallery ready to open,” Sophie said.
Emma heard what Sophie said, but she could hardly believe it. “Gallery? You’re opening your own gallery? Oh. My. God! Sophie, this is what we always dreamed about doing when we were young. You will continue to paint, right?”
“Of course. I’d die if I couldn’t smell paint every day.” Sophie laughed out loud.
“Tell her the rest now.” Teddy’s voice was faint, but Emma heard it very well.
“We’re buying this old building here in Del Rio,” Sophie said. “I was saving the best until last.”
“Why would you do that?” Emma asked. “And your engagement is the best anyway.”
“It’s got an upstairs loft where I can paint, and we want to sell your paintings, too, and I want to bring in Josh’s work, and Arty’s and Filly’s. We are only going to sell Texas art, and we’ll promote and advertise, and . . .” She stopped to catch a breath.
“Are you kiddin’ me? For real, your own place to sell your work?” Emma was glad she was sitting on the floor. “And you really want to display my little paintings?”
“You promised Leo six paintings, but after that, I want you to sign with us exclusively,” Sophie told her. “I can’t expect Arty and Filly to give me an exclusive since they’ve been working with Leo so long, but I sure want your things. We’ll drive up there once a month to pick up whatever y’all will let us have, and that way I can have a visit with you. Or you can bring it down here to me and spend a few days in our house.”
Hummingbird Lane Page 18