by Syndi Powell
“I’m trying to picture you in an apron with a mixing bowl.” She peered closer at him, then shook her head. “Nope. Don’t see it.”
“I’m a man of many talents.”
She could see that she had only scratched the surface of the man Beckett was, and she longed to know more. “What’s another talent you have?”
He gave it some thought, then grinned. “I can belch the entire alphabet.”
This made her laugh. “Now, that I can see.”
“What about you? What hidden talents do you have?”
“Well, when I competed for Miss Michigan—”
He whipped his head around and stared at her. “You did what?”
“Keep your eyes on the road, please.” She shrugged and kept her gaze on the window as well. “A friend of mine told me that I could earn scholarship money by competing in beauty pageants, and she assured me that I would win. So, I did. And I won a few. I came in third for Miss Michigan. Or as my father said, second loser.” She winced at the title, which still hurt eight years later.
“There were two women in the state more beautiful than you? I doubt that.”
His compliment warmed her, making her smile. “Miss Michigan is more than looking pretty. It’s about being talented, poised and having a platform.”
“What was your platform?”
“Education for young women locally and around the world. I think it’s important to invest in our teenage girls now so that they can become scientists, artists and entrepreneurs in the future.” She gave another shrug as she remembered the competition. It had been fierce between her and the other four that rounded out the top five contestants. They were all beautiful and accomplished, but she’d hoped to have that something extra to put her on top. “Like I said, I came in third.”
“You never said what your talent was.”
“I have an ear for languages and an artistic eye which doesn’t translate well to being onstage in front of an audience and a panel of judges, so I performed a modern dance routine on the advice of my pageant coach.”
“They have coaches for that?”
“My father thought I could use the extra help.” She remembered well the argument against getting one. She was fine as she was, but her father told her he raised her to be a winner. And winners had coaches. So she’d gotten a coach. Not that it had helped her win in the end. Something that her father repeated several times over the years. She took a deep breath, willing away how those thoughts made her feel so inadequate.
Beckett whistled, shaking his head. “Well, I say the judges were blind. You are talented and poised and beautiful. You should have won.”
His words warmed her and made her heart flutter. “Thank you for that.”
He stayed silent for a moment. “Ear for languages?”
“I’m fluent in French, Spanish and Italian. Plus, I know enough Arabic to ensure getting a wonderful meal and top-notch service.” She gave a shrug. “Languages come easy to me.”
“I struggled to get through Spanish in high school. Enough to order a taco and cerveza, at least. And ask donde es el bano.”
She laughed at this, amused by his self-deprecating humor. “When you were in Iraq, you didn’t pick up any of the language?”
His face seemed to shutter all of a sudden, and he became quiet, sullen even. She regretted her question as she settled into the seat and ran her hand along Phoebe’s short fur. She seemed to have the talent for turning off Beckett.
* * *
THE HIGHWAY STARTED to get busier the closer they reached their destination, so Beckett used that as his excuse to stay quiet and locked in his thoughts. The last couple of hours had been filled with songs from the radio rather than conversation. Which was too bad. He’d been enjoying his conversation with the former beauty queen until she’d brought up Iraq and his time there. Didn’t anyone understand that he didn’t want to talk about it? To dwell on it? That was the problem with his nightmares. They brought up memories that he’d rather avoid. Hoped to forget.
A sign on the side of the road advertised that they had eight miles to the exit for Lake Mildred. He pointed out the sign to Andie. “We’re almost there.”
She nodded, saying nothing. He shot a glance at her. “Listen. I don’t like talking about my military career or the war. In fact, I don’t want to talk about it at all. So please, just let it drop.”
“Fine.”
She might have said the word, but he could tell that it was anything but fine. It was as if he’d hurt her by shutting that part of his life off from her. But it wasn’t personal. Apart from his therapist, he didn’t discuss his time in the military with anyone. Not his brother. Not friends. The closest he’d come was with Russ these past few weeks. But the older man knew about war since he had lived with it too. It was easier to discuss such things with him. “I won’t apologize for not wanting to talk about it.”
“I didn’t ask you to,” she said and pulled the lapels of her coat closer around herself.
“Are you cold? I can turn up the heat.”
She shook her head, so they drove on in silence. When the exit for the town arrived, he took it and turned down the radio so he could focus on the street signs as they left the freeway. “Russ said it was near the town center.”
They passed several houses and reached Main Street where they saw a diner that seemed to be the center of the small town. Stores lined both sides of the street, and they passed the city hall as well as the library before finding Lake Mildred Glass Company. Beckett parked the truck and hurried around the vehicle to help Andie down. He glanced at Phoebe, who lay in the middle of the bench seat, looking at him with hopeful eyes. “Maybe we should take the dog for a walk before we go inside?”
Andie nodded as he fastened the leash to Phoebe’s collar. From the glove compartment he pulled out the vest that indicated that she was a therapy dog in training and put it around the dog, who was leaning against him. He gave her a pat on her head and led her toward a snow-covered park.
Once the dog had finished her business, they walked back to the glass store. Beckett opened the door to let Andie walk ahead of them. Inside the large space, shelves lined the walls with pieces of glass of various sizes and arranged by color and style. A short woman with glasses and long graying hair pulled into a braid approached them. The name tag on her navy canvas apron read Naomi. “Can I help you both?”
Beckett pulled out the list of what they were looking for. “We were sent here by Russell Thorpe.”
“Ahh, Russ. How is he doing these days?”
“Pretty well. He’s retiring.”
“He told me.” She shook her head at the thought. “He also told me that none of his kids wanted the business. But then I’m in the same situation myself. The store will die with me, I guess.” She glanced down at Phoebe who wagged her tail. “Aren’t you a sweetheart?” She looked up at Beckett. “May I pet her?”
He nodded, and Naomi crouched down by the dog to give her a good scratch behind the ears. Phoebe leaned into the older woman’s hand and seemed to sigh with contentment.
Once she was finished loving on Phoebe, Naomi stood and put her hands on her hips. “All right. What kind of glass are we looking for?”
“Russ gave us a list of what we need.” He held out the list to her.
Naomi took it and read over it. “My modern glass is here in the front of the store, but you’re looking for antique choices. Let’s see what I can find you.”
She led them to a separate, smaller room that had a table covered in felt at the center. Naomi checked the list again and walked to a shelf with vertical dividers. “What’s the project you’re working on?”
Andie pulled out her cell phone and located one of the pictures she’d taken of the window that first day they’d met. Had it really been only three weeks? Naomi gave a low whistle. “That’s quite an ambitio
us project. Is this your first?”
“My first restoration, but I’ve made several smaller glass pieces,” Andie answered and put her phone back into her pocket. “Russ said he’d teach us how to do it.”
“He’s good at teaching others as I’m sure you can tell.” She consulted the list once more, then pulled out a piece of blue-green glass that looked like rippled water and laid it on the table. “This is called catspaw sheet glass.” She checked a tag on it. “Made in the fifties which is later than the date of your window, but I think you could use it for the waves.”
Beckett put a finger on the cool glass. It looked as if a pool of water had been poured onto the table. “Amazing. How do they do this?”
“It’s a true art, isn’t it?” Noise from the front room alerted them of another customer’s arrival. Naomi handed the list back to Andie. “I’ll let you two take a look around. If you need any help, please let me know. But take your time. I’ll be back in a little bit.”
She left them alone in the room, and Beckett looked over at Andie, who seemed to avoid his gaze. Any camaraderie they’d shared earlier had dissipated. He sighed and glanced around the room at the various shelves. “Where do we begin?”
Andie started to go shelf by shelf, pulling out various pieces of glass and sliding them back. “We could divide the list. Make this go a little faster.”
It sounded as if she wanted to get away from him already, and he knew he’d messed things up with her. “I don’t know what we’re looking for.”
She held up the scrap of paper in her hand. “We have a list.”
“Glass is glass to me.” He gave a shrug. “I’ll bow to your judgment. You’re the one with the artistic eye.”
She glanced at him, a half smile on her lips. “How about I pull out the glass I think will work, and we agree on them together?”
“I can live with that.”
* * *
ANDIE’S BACK ACHED as she bent over the table. Straightening, she put her hands on the sore area and massaged. She wasn’t sure how long she and Beckett had been in the store perusing Naomi’s cache of antique glass. Time seemed to have stopped as they discussed, argued and settled on several pieces. Along with the catspaw glass for the waves, they’d agreed on a hand-rolled glass in an ombré of reds for parts of the lighthouse as well as several pieces of royal blue for the sailboat. They hadn’t been able to agree on the amber glass for the light on the lighthouse, however. While several choices would have worked, none seemed to be the perfect one.
Part of her brain told her that she could make the amber glass herself. The other, saner part reminded her that she didn’t do that kind of work anymore. She was a receptionist and part-time art teacher, not an artist.
But you could be again. Don’t you miss it?
Shaking off the thought once more, she pulled out another piece of amber glass but dismissed it. The light from the lighthouse had to be warm and inviting. Almost as if it beckoned the sailor to safety. A place of peace.
Naomi walked into the room and nodded at the different pieces of glass they intended to purchase. “Looks like you’ve made some progress. If there’s something you didn’t find, I might be able to order it and have it shipped to you.”
They took their intended purchases with them and went out into the larger portion of the store where Naomi rang up the sale. Beckett pulled out his wallet and handed the cash over. “I have blankets in my truck to protect the glass.”
“I’ll also wrap them in Bubble Wrap. These antique pieces tend to be more fragile than their modern counterparts.”
Beckett walked out to his truck, leaving Phoebe with Andie. Naomi cut off several lengths of Bubble Wrap and swathed each piece in it before taping the edges. “You have a lot of great pieces here,” Andie told her.
“What can I say? Some people collect antiques or coins. I collect glass.”
Beckett returned with blankets in his arms and a concerned look on his face. His brown hair had become close to white with snow. “Andie, we’ve got a problem.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
ANDIE LISTENED AS Beckett described the snowstorm that had come in while they’d been in the back of the store. “There’s been at least four or five inches that have fallen. I don’t know if there’s going to be more, and I don’t know what the roads going home will be like.”
She walked to the door and peered out at the snow-covered truck and the white world beyond it. The snow fell at such a rate that she could barely see the outline of the building across the street. Turning to look at Beckett, she shook her head. “How long have we been here?”
He glanced at his watch. “A couple hours. But obviously long enough to make our trip home a huge question mark.”
She hadn’t planned on this when they’d made arrangements for this trip. What were they going to do? Where would they go? “Are you saying we’re stuck here overnight?”
Naomi walked out from behind the cash register. “He’s right. They’re predicting another six to eight inches overnight. Salt trucks and plows won’t be out until the worst of the storm is over later.”
But they had nothing with them except the little food left in her cooler. The clothes on their backs. And whatever money they had in their wallets. Where would they wait out the storm? It felt a little overwhelming, and she closed her eyes for a moment. She felt a warm pressure on her leg and opened her eyes to find Phoebe leaning against her and looking up at her. “I’m okay, girl. Just a little beleaguered.”
“You’re trotting out the big words, so I know you’re worried.” Beckett approached her and put a hand on her upper arm. “We’ll be fine.” He turned back to Naomi. “Can you recommend a motel near here?”
“The closest motel would be in Traverse City, but we’ve got a bed-and-breakfast inn here that might have a vacancy.” Naomi pulled out an old-fashioned rotary phone and phone book. She opened it to the page she wanted and dialed the number. “Hey, Irena. Naomi here. I’ve got two people in my store stranded by the snowstorm. Have you got a room?”
“Two rooms,” Andie said, her cheeks reddening at the thought of being stuck in a room with Beckett overnight. “Please.”
“Two rooms.” Naomi listened to the person on the other end and gave a nod. “Perfect. I’ll give them directions to your place. Yes, I’ll be sure to tell them.”
She hung up the phone. “Good news, folks. She’s got a few rooms available, if you’re interested.”
Beckett glanced at her, and Andie turned to look outside once more. Didn’t seem like they had much choice. “We’re interested.”
Naomi wrote the directions down on a piece of paper and handed it to Beckett. “Why don’t you leave the glass here overnight and pick it up tomorrow before you leave? That way you don’t have to worry about the frigid temperatures affecting the panels.”
“Thank you, Naomi,” he said, shaking her hand. “We appreciate all your help. With everything.”
She shook hands with Andie, as well. “You’re welcome. But you might want to eat an early dinner before you go there since Irena is a fantastic hostess, but not much of a cook. She asked me to tell you to eat something before you come out to her place. Rick’s diner is just down the street, it’s where everyone goes.”
“Thanks again, Naomi,” Andie said, still feeling uncertain about the plans that were being made. She knew that traveling in the snow would be difficult, but would waiting make it better? Or would leaving while it was starting be the better choice? What if the more snow that fell put off their only chance to get home for a couple of days?
Beckett held the door open for her to walk out first. She passed by him, wondering if she should voice her concerns. They walked to his truck, and he opened the passenger door, whistling for Phoebe to jump in before helping Andie up into the truck. She turned to say something, but kept her mouth shut as he closed the door and walked to the oth
er side of the vehicle and got inside. He put the key into the ignition, but stopped then to rub his hands. “Hungry?”
She nodded. “Yes, actually. I remember seeing the diner before we got to the store.”
“Works for me.”
The drive to the diner took less than a minute, and she realized they could have walked from the glass store if the sidewalks hadn’t been filling quickly with deep snow. They entered the restaurant, Phoebe leaning against Beckett’s leg. A woman with long curly brown hair and a clipboard in hand looked up from the cash register. “Welcome. Go ahead and sit wherever you want. We’re a little light on customers with this snowstorm.”
Beckett pointed at a booth near the back, taking the side that had his back to the wall but his eyes on the front door. Andie scooted down the bench opposite him and accepted the menu that the woman handed to her. “We’re a full-service diner, of course, but I’d recommend my husband’s burgers. They’re the best in the world.”
Andie gave a nod. “Sounds good.”
“I’ll take two. One for me, one for the dog.” He reached and patted Phoebe, who lounged under the table, on her side. “No onions on hers though.”
The woman wrote that on the order pad, then paused, staring at Beckett. “Maybe you get this all the time, but you remind me of someone I’ve seen before.” She gave a shrug. “Maybe I’m just seeing things. What would you like to drink?”
Once they finished ordering their meals, Andie rested her folded hands in front of her on the table. “This overnight stay wasn’t part of the trip.”
“Not much we can do about the roads at this point.” He nodded at the waitress, who placed a coffee in front of him and a hot tea in front of Andie. “I say we make the best of it. Is anyone waiting for you at home that you need to call?”
She considered his words. “Like my mother? I guess I should call her and let her know I might not be making Sunday dinner with the family.”