Love by Design: A Heartswell Harbour Romance

by Mavis Williams

“Nauntie picked me up and I tolded her that I wanted cookies, but she said no, and I tolded her I was hungry, but she said no, and I tolded her—”

  “Piper, this is my daughter, Isabella.” Robin turned so Piper faced the curly blonde halo of curls. Izzy immediately mashed her face into Robin’s belly. “Believe it or not, this little one is the subject of most of those paintings.”

  “I thought so,” Piper said. “Your work is special, Robin. I look forward to hearing from you.”

  “Did you hear that, Iguana?” Robin whispered to Izzy as Piper moved off through the crowd. “That lady bought one of Mumma’s paintings!”

  “I wants a cookie.” Izzy released Robin and slid down her leg onto the floor.

  “There you are.” Auntie appeared, breathless and rosy cheeked. “Robin, good heavens but that child can move. I no more got her out of her car seat and I turned around and she was gone.”

  “She’s something, isn’t she?” Robin held Izzy’s hand, turning Piper’s words over in her mind.

  “And there will be no cookies this close to suppertime.” Auntie chided Izzy, who frowned and tugged on Robin’s hand. “It will spoil your appetite, and goodness knows how important a good diet is—”

  Auntie’s words slowed to a halt as she stared at the display of Robin’s work.

  “Oh,” she said. “Oh my.”

  Robin waited. She hadn’t realized how important Auntie’s reaction to her work was to her. This was why she had been hiding it. Her fear that the people she loved the most would find a flaw in her, vividly expressed in paint and fabric. The fear that expressing her deepest feelings was a weakness. She bit her lip, knowing there was no turning back from this moment.

  “Mel, you must look at these.”

  Wait, what? Mel?

  Auntie stepped aside, revealing the diminutive form of Mel, the bartender, his head barely coming up to Auntie’s shoulder. Auntie hooked her arm in his and dragged him a few steps closer to the wall of paintings.

  “That man is Nauntie’s boyfriend,” Izzy whispered loudly. “He smells funny.”

  Robin looked at the ceiling as the hole in the floor grew in front of her.

  “My heavens, Robin, but they are lovely, aren’t they?” Auntie took Robin’s arm. “I had no idea. No idea. Look Mel, can you see? There’s Izzy, and there she is again.” She pointed at various paintings, the tell-tale halo of golden curls in various poses across the expanse of several canvases. “And that one—”

  She raised her fingers to her lips.

  The canvas was long and thin with a woman standing braced against a strong wind, with the figure of a mother and child protected under her raised arms. The woman’s face was turned down, looking at the small family she shielded from the storm at her back.

  “That’s you, Auntie.” Robin put her arm around Auntie’s shoulders and hugged her. “I’m sorry this is so public, I didn’t want anyone to see these.”

  Auntie grasped Robin by both elbows. Her eyes were bright with tears

  “My sweet darling,” she said, her voice trembling. “Thank you. I shall remember this moment for the rest of my life.”

  She wiped brusquely at her eyes and turned to Mel.

  “That one is me, do you see?” she said. “Look how I take care of them. She managed to capture my essential self, didn’t she? I think she did.”

  “Nice,” Mel grumbled. He looked at Robin and winked. “Nice paintings.”

  “Thank you,” Robin said, looking back and forth between Auntie and the squat man with the crazy hair. “Are you two... um...?”

  “We’re having a bit of a fling, dear,” Auntie said proudly. “Now don’t get getting all prudish on me, Robin. We may be old, but we’re still young at heart, aren’t we Melvin?”

  “Melvin?”

  Izzy tugged on her hand, pulling her away from what was becoming the strangest conversation she’d had all day. She hoisted Izzy onto her hip as Auntie and Mel moved closer to the paintings, their heads close together as they talked.

  “Auntie has a boyfriend,” Robin said, squeezing Izzy. “This is just one crazy day.”

  “I wanna a cookie.”

  She felt a warm presence at her elbow.

  “There are some snacks on that table over there,” Hudson said.

  Robin spun around. He stood so close she had to lift her chin to look in his eyes. She froze, captured by his blue gaze and wanting immediately to kiss him, at the same time that she reminded herself she wanted to throttle him.

  “Hi! Hi Hudson!” Izzy shrieked and threw herself against him, tumbling from her mother’s arms and into his. “I wanted a cookie and Nauntie tolded me no!”

  She launched into a detailed rendition of the wrongs having been perpetrated against her snacking needs, giving Robin a moment to step back and collect herself. Hudson held her gaze over the blonde head of her girl.

  “Mumma, can I haves a snack?” Izzy twisted around in his arms, pointing to a nearby table loaded with nibbles.

  “One for each hand, Iz and that’s it. That’s the rule, ok?” Robin lifted her down from Hudson’s arms and watched her scamper off to the table. She kept her gaze rooted to the floor, suddenly shy as she tried to gather her rage back where it belonged. It sifted through her grasp like grains of sand.

  “You’ve sold eight paintings,” he said softly.

  She stared at him.

  “And several people were asking for commissions, but I figured you would have to answer those questions.”

  She grasped at the threads of outrage that had powered her a moment ago.

  “Oh? You didn’t think you would just take right over and plan my life for me? How strange, seeing how you had no qualms about interfering with my very private paintings.”

  She took a deep breath, she couldn’t maintain the sting of her anger as she overheard words of praise drifting over them as the crowd of people enjoyed her work.

  “I’m not going to apologize,” he said.

  “I’m not going to forgive you.”

  “You will.”

  “Won’t.”

  “Will.”

  They looked at each other as the ghost of a smile washed over Hudson’s face.

  “Auntie and Mel are an item.” She smiled at his look of surprise.

  “Dad and Mrs. Davies.” He shrugged. “Right under my nose for years.”

  “Yeah, I think I figured that one out.” She nodded. “I guess we fail as matchmakers.”

  He continued to stare at her, his eyes roaming over her face as though appreciating a fine canvas. She blushed but returned his gaze steadily. She had never seen a face so open to life. She felt a rush of reckless pleasure rise in her chest, like the crumbling of a wall made of sand.

  “I have some rules,” he said, his eyes twinkling.

  “What? You’re lucky I’m even speaking to you. And besides, you break all the rules!”

  “That’s why I should be the one who makes them.” His expression was the picture of logic. “You have to say yes.”

  “That’s a rule? That’s not even fair,” she said, laughter bubbling in her chest. “What else?”

  “That’s it.”

  “One rule? I have to say yes?” she scoffed.

  “To everything. It will be good for you.”

  “You know I’m not going to do that.”

  “Will you keep showing your work, and not hide it away anymore?”

  She paused, looking at him thoughtfully. She glanced at the crowd, the paintings. The flood of pride and confidence she felt was entirely new to her.

  “Yes.”

  “Will you let me hire you to design my new office, since I am renting my own space on the third floor of the law building?”

  “You’re leaving your dad?” she asked, wide-eyed.

  “No, but we’ve reached an understanding about my role in Proxly and Son, and I am establishing my own practice with my own independent clients.” He spoke with a renewed confidence that made her smile. “I�
��m gonna need someone to wash the windows.”

  She swatted his arm.

  “Will you design my new space?”

  “Yes,” she grinned. She decided she liked this new rule.

  “Will you let me hang out with my best girl, if I promise to try to keep her off shelving units?” He looked at her cautiously, knowing this was the biggest yes he could ask.

  She looked at Izzy standing tip-toed on the seat of a chair so she could reach the farthest tray of sweets on the table.

  “Good luck,” she said. “But, yes.”

  “See how easy this is?”

  “I’m pretty good at it, aren’t I?” She wanted him to ask her to kiss him. She looked at his lips, remembering their warmth and welcome against hers.

  “Will you move in with me?”

  “What?” She snapped her head up, looking into his sincere blue gaze.

  “Delia is long gone.” He reached for her hands and twined his fingers in hers. “I’ve found a three-bedroom house with a giant attic space that would be perfect for your studio. There are sky lights and we can install a sink and easels. There’s a huge backyard for Izzy to play in, and we can make a jungle gym for her, with sand underneath for soft landings.” He paused for breath. “I want you there. With me.”

  He spoke in a rush and she barely had time to take it all in. His hands were warm in hers and she suddenly saw this moment as a composition on a canvas. A man and a woman and a child, surrounded by light and color, everything balanced in harmony.

  “Three bedrooms?” she asked.

  He squeezed her hand and leaned in, his mouth inches from hers.

  “One of them is for Dotty,” he whispered.

  She lifted her hands to frame his face and drew his mouth to hers. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her deeply and thoroughly.

  “Yes,” she whispered against his mouth, snuggled tightly against his chest like paint on canvas. “Yes, to everything.”

  “My word, the actions!” She heard a shrill whisper to their left. “Why, I remember when my Walter used to kiss me like that, but I can’t say we ever were so public about our affections.”

  Mrs. Crawley.

  Robin smiled up at Hudson and kissed him again.

  Epilogue

  Getting married was the easy part. Getting Auntie to calm down was another story altogether.

  She insisted on crocheting an entire trousseau for Robin, complete with lacy hand towels and a silky camisole that Auntie wrapped carefully in tissue paper and tucked underneath the face cloths and dish towels with a blushing comment about the wedding night.

  Then there were the invitations, and the consultations with Mrs. Crawley, who had recently married off her youngest daughter and so was the ultimate resource for the various obligations required by the matrimonial ceremony.

  Robin rolled her eyes and left her to it. She was too busy balancing her time between her new design jobs that were popping up in the wake of the Prophet Sale, and spending time in her new studio creating entirely new paintings she thought of as “the Matchmaker” series.

  And then there was Hudson.

  Living with Hudson was like embarking on a new adventure every single day. Some days she would come home to find he and Izzy deeply ensconced in a giant cardboard castle that took over the living room. He would insist they eat supper inside the cardboard walls, sitting cross legged as Izzy regaled them with stories of how Dot was really a dragon in disguise. Other days he would take them all down to the wharf to catch mackerel off the pier, or to the bookstore for story time, or they would go for a drive with all the windows down, howling Shania Twain songs at the tops of their lungs.

  And then there were the nights. Curled together in a warm embrace, exploring each other, whispering stories, sharing memories.

  For Robin, it was like coming back to life after years of sleep.

  She was even willing to say yes to Mrs. Crawley attending the wedding, as long as Auntie agreed to give her away.

  “It’s highly unusual, Robin.” Auntie protested through a delighted smile. “Won’t it seem odd, having an old lady walk you down the aisle?”

  “I think it’s perfect,” Robin said, kissing her on the cheek. “I won’t get married if you won’t give me away.”

  “Well, in that case, I better find a tux that fits me.” Auntie giggled.

  “And Mel will come too?” Robin asked. Mel had become a fixture in their lives, arriving for suppers with Auntie, and Mr. Proxly and Mrs. Davies—whom Robin was just beginning to be comfortable calling Bernard and Irma—it was like a strange extended family that Neil described as the ‘Robin’s Nest’ of young lovers.

  Auntie loved being called a young lover, even though Robin blushed scarlet every time she caught her and Mel holding hands.

  “Nauntie tolded me I couldn’t throw the flowers.” Izzy stomped her foot impatiently. Dot shivered behind her, never more than two feet away from her. “I’se the flower person, I throws the flowers.”

  Robin just smiled. Life with Hudson was pretty well perfect.

  Note from the Author

  I hope you have enjoyed reading “Love by Design”. My favorite character is definitely Rosalee! I so enjoyed her determination and her positivity. I modeled her on my own Great Aunt Tilly who terrorized the years of my young motherhood with her insistence on proper laundry techniques and the absolute necessity of matching cutlery on the dinner table.

  She would come visit every summer, from England, when my children were little. She brought gifts of tea towels, old photographs and once, most remarkably, a small suitcase full of silverware.

  “Your daughters will be embarrassed—embarrassed, I say—to have their friends over for luncheon using the cutlery you have now. It simply will not do.”

  It didn’t matter to her that my four children were, at the time, feral little warriors who ate snails and thought cold hotdogs were fine dining.

  She never gave up on me, and I have her to thank for my intermittent success at keeping my whites white. I’m sure she’ll show up again in future novels, since she is such a fun character to play with!

  Thanks for reading! Please check out my other Heartswell Harbour novels on amazon.

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