by Amanda Tru
“That’s too bad. You would’ve made the night a lot more fun.”
“Really? I don’t think ‘fun’ is a word most people apply to me.”
The door cracked open, and Beau stood on the other side. He frowned, and George stepped away faster than a cat on a hot tin roof.
George waved as she rolled up the window. “You know where to find me if you want.”
Shelby felt the heat of a blush roll across her cheeks. Some days it was awful having a pale complexion. She felt Beau staring at her, and when she twisted in the seat to face him, she found Beau frowning at her. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, I guess so.” Beau turned the truck back on the road. “You going out tonight?”
“Not hardly.” Shelby chuckled at the thought of her on the dance floor. It was safer for all concerned if she stayed home. “Dancing the night away isn’t in my plans for the near future.”
“Should be,” muttered Beau. Shelby’s breath caught in her throat, but when he didn’t say anything more, she just chalked it up to wishful thinking. No, he wouldn’t want to dance with her. He was too serious, too focused on his work, and too old. She crossed her arms over her chest and brooded for the short drive to the cottage.
As they neared the cottage, her nerves pushed all thoughts of dancing out of her head. She was in a near panic by the time they arrived.
“You know,” said Shelby, hands twisting in her lap, “maybe this isn’t such a good idea after all. We can find something else to put in that spot.”
Beau didn’t say anything, just opened the truck door and held his hand out to her. She hesitated to touch him, but he seemed content to wait patiently for her. That decided her. Shelby placed her hand into his, and with a tug, he pulled her out of the truck. Beau squeezed her hand gently and let go.
“Ready now?” He stood so close she could smell his aftershave.
“Yeah. I think I am.” Oddly enough, all the nerves she’d been feeling up to that point evaporated when she’d put his hand in his. “Let’s go inside.”
He let her lead the way, even though, he could have guessed where they were going. She flicked on the lights, illuminating the interior.
“You’ve haven’t started decorating for Christmas?”
“Are you kidding?” Shelby wrinkled her nose. “I’ve got my hands full with your place. I don’t have time for mine.”
“Oh,” said Beau, from behind her. “Maybe I can come over and help you this weekend?”
Shelby stopped so abruptly that Beau ran into her back and sent her flying a few feet ahead. He grabbed around the waist and set her on her feet again before dropping his hands like they were hot.
“Whoa, Shelby, you got to be careful about doing that. You’re going to get hurt one of these days.”
“Did you just invite yourself over to decorate my house for Christmas?’
He tilted his head to the side. “Yeah, I think I did. I’ll bring some popcorn to string. It’ll be fun.”
Shelby slowly nodded her head and smiled warmly at him. “It’s a date then.”
His dark eyebrow shot up, and her eyes went wide when she realized what she’d just said.
“Uh, this way.” She spun around, hoping that her makeup covered the blush she knew crept up her face. She turned the knob to her studio and hesitated only a second before pushing it all the way open.
The curtains were closed, blocking the sunlight from entering the room. Flicking on the light, Shelby pointed to a canvas hidden under a white sheet. “That one. I think it would be a good fit for your living room.”
“This one,” said Beau as he pulled the sheet covering a colossal canvas next to the one she wanted.
“No!” Shelby moved to stop the sheet from falling away from the canvas. She pulled the sheet’s edge over the frame, making sure it was completely out of view. “That one isn’t ready. I don’t think it’ll ever be ready.”
She pulled the sheet off the other one. “See this is what I’d like to put on the wall.” She took a big gulp of air. Moment of truth. “What do you think?”
Beau was completely silent as he contemplated the large painting of the greenhouses on the ranch. She’d done her best to make them glow with the dying light of an autumn sunset. He settled his right elbow into his left hand and was tapping his bottom lip with the edge of his index finger. He moved to the side and looked at the painting. Every once in a while, he’d make a sound, causing the butterflies in her stomach to flutter wildly. He moved to the left and did the same thing.
“Beau, put me out of my misery and tell me what you think,” begged Shelby. He took a step back so he was standing right next to her.
“That,” said Beau, sliding one arm around her shoulders and pointing to the painting with the other, “is stunning. It reminds me a little of what’s his name… Andrew something or other.”
“Andrew Wyeth,” supplied Shelby, breathlessly. Beau’s nearness made it difficult to think. “You think it looks like one of his paintings?”
“Reminds me of it anyway. I always loved that painting he did of the girl in the field with the barn in the background. Always reminded me of hope.” He smiled down at her. “Your talent amazes me, Shelby.”
“Thank you,” whispered Shelby, more than aware of his warm arm along her shoulders. She didn’t want it to end.
He blinked rapidly for a minute and pulled his arm away. Disappointment filled her.
“How’d you paint it anyway?” He took a step closer to the painting, hands in his pockets, and inspected it. “When I’m further back, it’s all one color but the closer I get the more colors I see.”
“Yes, that’s right,” said Shelby, trying to hide her disappointment. “There’s ultramarine blue, alizarin crimson, and viridian. And a bunch of others. I’ll have to order more paint soon. I’m almost out.” Which was amazing in and of itself. She’d not had such a surge in inspiration and focus in months. Ever since she began working at the ranch.
Beau cleared his throat and bent to pick up the sheet which had fallen on the wooden floor. “So, you want me to move this to the truck?”
“Uh sure. Let’s cover it with the sheet and then a tarp.” She opened the closet and handed him a square of folded tarp. “To keep off the damp.”
Beau busied himself with prepping the painting and, with her direction, managed to get it back to the ranch house in one piece. He even hung it for her.
“There,” said Shelby, stepping back from the small, white parsons bench she’d found in the ranch house’s attic. It looked perfect under the large painting of the greenhouses. “What do you think?”
“Looks great,” said Beau, pulling his phone from this pocket. “It’s later than I thought. I need to run into town for a few errands. Want to come with me?”
“Sure. If you don’t mind being seen with me in public.” She meant it as a joke, but it fell flat even to her ears.
“I don’t mind.” He smiled at her and pulled the keys for his truck out his coat pocket. “We just have to stop by the gas station first.”
Shelby’s stomach growled. When had she last eaten? Not since the night before. She’d skipped breakfast that morning, opting only for some coffee. It was hours yet until dinner, but she was starving. It was definitely time for a snack. She shoved the truck door open and went around the back of the truck where Beau stood.
“You want anything inside?”
Beau shook his head and gave her a small smile before turning his attention back to the gas pump. She headed into the small gas mart slash convenience store. What it lacked in fruits and veggies it made up for in beer and snack food. She grabbed a small bag of chips and, while deciding on a bottle of water, a woman wearing a pink velour tracksuit and pearl ear bobs sidled up to her. She looked familiar. Where had she seen her before? Shelby kept taking surreptitious looks at the woman.
Church. That’s where she’d seen her. Lena something or other. Shelby couldn’t recall the last name. Did she say hello? She
’d never been introduced, but they attended the same church. She was fuzzy on the etiquette details of greeting another church member. While debating it, she decided on the cheapest water bottle the shop had.
Lena tapped one acrylic nail against her teeth and, just as Shelby reached for the fridge door, laid her perfectly manicured hand on Shelby’s forearm.
“Excuse me,” said Shelby pulling away from her. The woman gave her a bright smile. “Oh honey, you don’t want that one. It’s not organic, you know. You want that one.” She pulled open the fridge and thrust a bottle twice as expensive at Shelby.
Shelby stared at the bottle and back at the woman. The woman gave her a bright smile and waited. Oh dear, she’s one of those. Not really a vegetarian or environmentalist but advocating on their behalf in a misguided attempt to be ‘helpful.’ Shelby did her best to squelch her disappointment and said, “Thank you.”
“Now that we’ve sorted that out, I’m Lena Hart.” She held her hand out for Shelby to shake. Not quite knowing what to do, Shelby shifted the water to her other hand and grasped Lena’s in her own. Apparently, the limp holding of hands was enough for Lena because she immediately dropped Shelby’s hand.
“Germs, you know,” said Lena, wiping her hand on the hem of her tracksuit. “They’re everywhere.”
“Right.” Shelby looked over shoulder and saw Beau had climbed back into the driver’s seat, his fingers tapping the top of the wheel. “I’ve got to go. Have a nice day.”
“So, Shelby,” said Lena, stepping just inside Shelby’s personal space, “are you and Beau dating? I ask only because he and I are old friends. Well, more than old friends, if you must know.”
Shelby’s breath hitched in her throat, and she froze in place. She didn’t have any way of answering that question for herself, much less Lena.
Lena plowed on, oblivious to Shelby’s deer-in-the-headlights imitation. “We haven’t seen each other lately because of that project his hateful sister dumped on him.” Lena’s sunny smile dimmed. “Unless you’re the one that’s been keeping him busy?”
“Ah, not really.” Shelby took a step away, but Lena kept pace with her. “And we’re not dating. He’s hired me to help out while Elizabeth is gone. Decorating and what not.” She looked longingly at the checkout counter, which was miraculously empty of customers. “I really do need to go. I’ve got an appointment in Bishop I can’t miss.”
“You’re the hired help, then?” Lena leaned back from Shelby. She shook her head, a cruel smile bowing her lips. “Oh Beau, you naughty boy.” Lena twirled on a pristine white sneaker heel and walked away without a backward glance.
“What? Wait.” Shelby was aghast at the woman’s assumption. “You can’t just… that’s not….” She ran to the check-out counter and paid for the organic water as fast as she could. By the time she got outside, Lena had cornered Beau in the truck and was talking animatedly at him.
Lena’s trill giggle grated against Shelby’s nerves as she climbed into the passenger side of the truck. Beau gave her an irritated glance before turning back to Lena. Like she’d sicced the woman on him. She slumped into the seat and glared at the overpriced water. Why had she bought it in the first place?
“Lena,” said Beau, his tone severe enough to even cut through Lena’s steamroller perkiness. “Have you met my friend Shelby yet?”
“We already did in the store,” said Shelby, wanting to joke about it and unable to at the same time. What if everyone in town thought that way? It was mortifying just thinking about it. Shelby cleared her throat. “She helped me pick out some organic water.” She held it up for Beau to see. He appeared as unimpressed as she was with Lena’s choice.
“Okay then,” said Lena, bubbling with eagerness. She laid her hand on Beau’s arm, but when he subtly pulled it away, she recovered by waving at them both. “I hope to see you at church. This Sunday is a potluck. Feel free to drop by, Shelby. We do all we can for the unfortunate in our community. Don’t we, Beau?”
It took Shelby a second to realize that Lena was talking about her. Beau’s expression hadn’t changed so she couldn’t tell if he agreed with her or not. Shelby’s confidence dropped, and it took effort to keep a smile plastered on her face.
“Have a lovely day.” She could only control her own behavior and hope that Beau had set Lena straight about their relationship, or lack of one. Or not. Shelby couldn’t make up her mind about what was going on, and it rankled. After the moment in the studio, she thought he might have had more than friendship in mind. She was probably reading way more into a single moment where he didn’t do anything but look in her eyes.
The more she thought about it, the more plausible it seemed that he’d just been comforting a friend. A neurotic friend who had severe anxiety about her paintings. She rubbed a hand over her eyes and glanced over at Beau. Not even paying attention to her.
Of course not. He was thinking about Lena. In all the time they’d spent together, it never occurred to her that Beau might be interested in dating. At least Lena had everything a guy in Beau’s position needed. She frowned at the bottle of water Lena insisted she buy and twisted the bottle cap so hard that it flew across the cab.
“Hey, watch it!”
“Sorry,” muttered Shelby. She slid down into her seat and took a swig of the water. Lena was wrong. The water wasn’t any better than the cheaper version.
She tried to gauge Beau’s mood, but he was taking stoic to new levels. Maybe he was pining away for Lena. She took another sip of water to wash the bitter taste from her tongue. The uncomfortable silence dragged on until she couldn’t take it anymore.
“You want to tell me what that was all about?” Shelby shifted around to face him. “Or am I going to have to guess?”
“Guess what?”
Irritation flashed through Shelby. “About you and Lena. I didn’t know you were dating anyone.”
He gave her a startled glance. “What? You think I’m dating that woman?”
“Maybe. Oh, I don’t know.” She threw her hands up in the air. Did she really want to know? She whipped herself back around and turned her whole focus on the road ahead of them. “Never mind. It’s none of my business.”
Beau, forehead wrinkled, held the steering wheel in one hand and tapped a beat with his other along the side.
“Listen.” Beau broke the silence in two. “I’ve known Lena since second grade. We grew up together.” After a significant pause, he added, “We did date back in high school.”
“So, does she still think she’s in high school?” Shelby couldn’t quite contain the snicker. “Because I get the feeling she never broke up with you.”
“It was over ages ago, Shelby,” said Beau, his voice tight. “Leave it be, okay?”
“Fine.” Shelby crossed her arms over her chest but couldn’t help but add one more snarky comment. “You make a cute couple, though.”
He ground his teeth but didn’t say anything. She hoped that he’d at least be contrite. All he did was keep his mouth shut and drive the truck. The ride into town felt like an eternity rather than the short trip it normally was. She’d tried to engage Beau in conversation, her way of apologizing, but all she got was monosyllables.
They pulled into a parking spot in front of the local hardware store. “I’ve got an order to pick up for Stan. You need anything in here?”
Shelby shook her head. “No, I’ve got all the things I need for the ranch.” Her eyes lighted on a shop across the street. “But I do have some errands to run. I’ll meet you back here in half an hour?”
“Yep.” He turned off the truck and headed into the store, not even bothering to open her door. That stung. Shelby hopped out and hurried across the street, trying to put the day’s very confusing events out of her mind. The bell tinkled softly as she pushed open the art gallery’s door. There was a variety of artwork, from photos printed on glass to oil paintings six feet wide. She even found a sculpture on a plinth in the back corner.
“May I help you
?” A tall woman, impossibly thin, dressed all in black stood in the back. Her hands were clasped in front of her, and she stood as if posed. She gave Shelby a once over and made a small moue. “This shop does not have a public bathroom.”
“Oh. Well, I’m not here for a bathroom.” Shelby held her hand out as she stepped toward the woman. “I’m Shelby Matthews. I was wondering if you are accepting new artists into your gallery?”
“Verity d’Neal.” The woman sniffed at the hand offered her so Shelby dropped it, embarrassed that she’d even offered it. “I warn you that I am most discriminating. Only the finest artists’ work hangs in my gallery. I have launched more artists than you have years on this earth.”
“That’s impressive.” Shelby didn’t know what else to say. “Would you like to see my portfolio?”
The woman sighed and snapped her fingers. Shelby jumped and dug through her bag for her portfolio. She always kept it in there. It had slid to the bottom and had crumbs stuck to it. She quickly shook it off and handed it to Verity with an embarrassed grin.
Verity shook her head once and flipped through it. “Hmm. It might be promising. I’ll take a look at it and let you know.” She snapped the black folder shut and looked down her nose at Shelby.
“Oh, okay. Well, I’ll come back later then. My phone number is in the folder,” she tried to peel back the corner of the folder, but Verity pulled it out of her reach. Shelby backed away, knocking into a plinth with a vase on top. Verity’s eyes went wide, but Shelby righted it before it fell to the floor and shattered. “Sorry about that. Anyway, thank you.” She floated out of the shop on cloud nine. She’d done it.
Beau watched Shelby cross the street and enter the gallery. Mixed emotions churned inside him. He respected her deeply. She was a hard worker and loved Anne like a mother. Her purple hair and nose ring gave her beauty a certain sort of charm rather than detracting from it. He felt surges of horrible jealousy when she talked to George or any of the ranch hands. Excepting Stan of course. She had the right to date whoever she chose. Doesn’t mean you have to like it. He rubbed a hand across his face.