Adrienne's mouth opened, and she took in air. Her hand went to her breasts. "Where did you find those?"
"Right here on the Vineyard," Michaela beamed. "What about you. Anyone special in your life?"
"Only the St. Romaine."
Michaela frowned. "You need someone shorter." She looked up at the huge ceiling.
"Maybe I'll find someone tonight."
"I can introduce you to almost everyone," Michaela offered.
"I suppose that eliminates that tall handsome man you walked in with?"
It did, but Michaela wouldn't say that. "Zack is leaving the island later tonight," she explained. "But there are plenty of eligible men out there."
"Don't worry. I'll find one," Adrienne smiled. "Gotta go check with the banquet manager now."
"I have to check that everything back here is ready."
"If you need anything, let me know."
Both women left to make sure everything was in order. When Michaela returned to the ballroom, the band had assembled and was tuning up. Zack was on the stage adjusting the finalists' easels.
"Everything all right?" she asked.
"Perfect," he said. "I moved a couple so they can be seen from anywhere in the room."
"You know we have the screens." She indicated the huge LED screens set up on each side of the stage.
"And you know color doesn't reflect exactly through any medium except the human eye."
"And even that has a filter," she reminded him. "But they are perfect." Michaela stood on the floor looking up at him. She took steps that brought her to the edge of the stage. "In case, I don't get to say it later, thank you for everything you did this week to make the show a success. It would have been vastly different without you."
Zack stepped down from the stage and stood looking at her. He was close enough for Michaela to touch. She wanted to move back but stood her ground.
"I won't forget it," he said.
The words meant something else. She heard the underlying story he conveyed.
"Neither will I," she returned, her voice barely louder than a whisper.
Zack cupped her face and stared into her eyes. For the longest moment, she felt he was going to kiss her. Then he leaned forward and brushed his lips along her cheek.
The sound of the band playing a song yanked them apart as each remembered where they were. Two minutes later the doors opened, and the guests began streaming in.
"Showtime," he said.
The show didn't begin right away. First, there was the dancing. People didn't have a problem starting the night. They didn't drift to the floor a couple at a time. The music played, and the floor filled. Guest mingled around the edges, some complimenting the tables and showing awe at the decorations.
A few cornered Zack and engaged him in a discussion on a variety of art subjects, everything from his personal life to where the two paintings came from and again if they could buy one or both.
When he saw Michaela pass, he excused himself and asked her to dance. Taking her in his arms he felt like a kid with a life-size doll. She smelled sweet and he forced himself not to nuzzle her neck. They turned in small circles, her matching his steps one for one. Zack had to admit, he hadn't felt this way about a woman in a long time, maybe even never. She understood him, and he felt he understood her.
And that's why he had to get off this island. The space was too small for the two of them. He looked for her around every corner. He sought her out when she wasn't there and worried about her when he didn't know where she was.
He was in love.
His arms tightened around her intimately. He caressed her, swinging her around the floor to both the band's music and that in his own head. He had to be losing his mind, but at the moment it felt right.
He'd decide later when her body wasn't pressed to his, when her perfume didn't fill his nostrils, and when his mind wasn't clouded with the promise of things that weren't going to happen.
The dance ended and Zack stepped back and observing her tenderly. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. That was why he painted her or thought he'd painted her. He knew what she would look like in thirty years. Her eyes would still hold their mystery. The depths would be as mesmerizing then as they were now.
"Zack," she whispered. "It's time. I have to go."
Remembering where he was, Zack released her. The band played an intro and Michaela stepped out of his arms and, holding her skirt, went up the two steps that led to the stage. Zack forgot to take a seat. He was still standing, watching her when she reached the podium.
"Thank you, everyone." She did a small introduction, thanked the people associated with the organization of the Walk, and congratulated all the entrants and named the finalists. When she finished, she said, "Mr. Zachary Taylor agreed to judge the entries this year." She was interrupted by thunderous applause. "After dinner, he will announce this year's winner. Until then, enjoy your dinner."
As she left the podium, conversations filled the room. The wait staff entered as if they were a dance troupe and had choreographed their movements. Zack hadn't met the manager of the St. Romaine, but Michaela had mentioned her. He was sure she had a hand in this. Zack approved of how the room looked. Someday he'd have to paint this. His hand itched to do it now.
Michaela returned to the table and was immediately served by one of the white-gloved servers. She smiled at him and picked up her fork.
"Are you ready?" she asked Zack. "As soon as they serve dessert, I'll introduce you. You can make your speech and then announce the winner."
"You're the winner," he whispered."
Her stare froze. "No," she whispered.
"Don't worry," he calmed her. "I'm not announcing you as the winner. I just wanted you to know."
Zack's attention was captured by the guest on the other side of him and from that point on, the table addressed him. Michaela breathed easily. The ceremony was the highlight of the Walk, and it was almost over. Everything was going well. Once Zack announced the winner, the rest of the night would be one big party.
Michaela listened to her tablemates ask Zack questions and heard his smooth answers. Zack was a pro at charming people. He held them in his hands, telling jokes, listening intently and enthralling them while discussing contemporary art and artists.
The dinner plates were taken away and dessert served. Ten minutes later, the banquet manager signaled her. She touched Zack's arm.
"It's time," she told him.
He nodded, and Michaela stood. Her speech at the podium was short. Zachary Cooper needed no introduction and he'd asked her to keep his bio to only a few sentences. Applause followed her presentation and the room stood up acknowledging his talent. Zachary gave her a brief hug as he took his place. The applause continued.
"Thank you," Zack said when it died down and people re-seated themselves. "But those twin paintings are still not for sale."
Laughter and applause resounded throughout the room. Michaela laughed at his words, but her nervousness over the painting was as close to her as the cloak she carried. She couldn't take it down tonight, but it was the first thing she planned for the morning.
Zack was spellbinding the crowd the same way he'd magnetized the members of the dinner table. He was the best pick she could have found. He was personable, approachable and the crowd loved him. Even though there were over seven hundred people in the room, Zack made it feel like he was talking to a small group in his living room. He was witty, poignant and educational.
"And now," he said winding his speech down. "It's time for the real reason five of you are in the audience."
Laughter filtered through the group.
"I won't keep you in too much suspense." He walked over to the five paintings standing about the stage. "You all know the phrase, it was an honor just being a finalist. We're all winners, etc., etc., etc."
Michaela watched heads bobbing up and down.
"Well, I'm not making that."
More laughter followed.
"I lo
ved all the paintings, but there can be only one chosen as the best. And that painting is. . ." A drum roll followed. He walked slowly, hesitating at one painting before moving to the fourth easel and placing a small blue ribbon on the bottom of the easel. The crowd roared.
His congratulations to Victoria Grant for her painting of the Gay Head Lighthouse was lost in the screams of pleasure coming from the winner and her supporters.
Tears streamed down Victoria's face as she made her way to the stage. She hugged Zack and could hardly speak to say thank you. She and Zack left the stage together for photos.
Michaela returned to the microphone, thanking everyone for coming and opening the evening for dancing. The band began, and the floor was crowded with people for the second time that night. Victoria was the star of the show. Michaela knew she would be interviewed and photographed for the rest of the night.
Zack returned to her side.
"Thank you," Michaela smiled up at him.
"For what?"
"Everything," she said, looking at Victoria. "She'll never forget this night."
She turned back to him. "When does your ferry leave?"
Zack slipped his arms around her waist and turned her around in a dance. "I've changed my mind," he said. "I'm staying until tomorrow."
Michaela's heart did a summersault.
"So, I have time for a dance with you."
He pulled her into his arms and began circling the floor. Michaela closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck. She didn't care if this was the way people danced. This was Zack, and this was how she danced with him. The music was slow, and she swayed in his arms to the sexy sounds of the band. Michaela let the feel of Zack's arms, the heat that burned inside her, and the arousing way she responded to his movements, push away any thoughts her brain might have of denying herself the pleasure he evoked in her.
He was leaving in the morning, and she had only met him in person three days ago, but he had a huge impact on her. She trusted him, had shared her secret with him. She hadn't ever done that before. But Zack was different. Could he be the man she'd been waiting for, looking for? Even if she didn't know she was looking, he'd come into her life as if by magic and she wanted him to stay.
Chapter 5
The rains came quick and hard during the night. They'd held off until the Walk ended, and the dinner dance was over. Morning dawned with streaks of orange and yellows, nature's own artwork, beautifully displayed as it often did after a hard rain. For these landscapes, everyone could appreciate them. There would be no comments on how it could have been done better.
Michaela was in comfortable clothes, jeans and a t-shirt with Martha's Vineyard printed over a plate holding a variety of grapes. She'd commissioned them several years ago for the volunteers and wore hers because the fabric felt good and it brought back thoughts of that year.
Leaving her room, she found the table set with coffee, muffins, scones, and pastries. She'd ordered a protein breakfast and as she sat down, Blythe came from the kitchen and put the plate in front of her. Michaela didn't ask herself how the proprietress knew she'd arrived. It was something Blythe did.
"That looks good," Zack said, glancing over the morning paper.
Michaela's smile was as large as the sky. She'd loved spending the evening with him. Both of them should be tired. There was the anxiety of the Walk and their long night dancing and talking after they came back to the Manor. Yet he looked well rested and she felt as if her feet didn't touch the ground.
"Would you like one?" Blythe said.
"I'd marry you for it," he told her.
"Sorry, you'd have to get in the back of the line for that," Blythe quipped. "And I think there's someone else whose got your heart."
With a smile, she disappeared.
Zack folded the newspaper and set it next to his plate. "The show got good reviews and it's spouting accolades for you." He indicated the paper.
"I'm sure they didn't overlook mentioning you a couple of times."
Michaela had read the story in her room. Blythe left a copy of the Vineyard News outside the guests' doors each morning. Zack was prominent in the story along with the winner he'd chosen. Neither Michaela's painting nor Zack's were featured. Michaela had insisted on that when she was interviewed. She didn't want the judge to upstage the winner.
"Victoria was thrilled. She couldn't stop saying thank you and telling everyone how much this meant to her."
"You heard that, huh?"
"At least a hundred times."
Blythe came back, silently setting a plate in front of Zack and leaving. Zack raised his brows several times and dug into the eggs and bacon.
"Victoria was thrilled that you gave it to her."
"I enjoyed it," he said. He smiled to himself as he picked up a slice of toast.
"More than that, thanks for listening to my issues on the paintings."
"I've been thinking about that," he said seriously.
Michaela took a drink of her coffee. "Thinking about a painting?" she asked.
"Jacob Lawrence," Zack said.
Michaela nearly dropped her cup.
"Brownstones." Both she and Zack spoke at the same time. Michaela's voice contained both surprise and awe.
"How did you know?" she asked. When she woke this morning, she knew what she had to paint. But how did Zack know?
"It popped up on my computer this morning. No matter what I searched for, the Jacob Lawrence painting showed up. It went on for about two minutes. At that time, I realized it was speaking to me about you."
"This is unexpected. Do you think that happened because I shared my story about the cloak with you? You're the only person outside of my parents and the doctor I've ever told."
"I don't know."
"Do you have an urge to paint a copy of Brownstones?" Michaela asked.
He shook his head. "But you do?"
She nodded. "My hands are literally itching." She opened them to let him see. There was no redness, no discoloration, nothing to see except normal palms. Yet Michaela knew she had to paint. It was the only way to stop the cloak and stop the powerful urge to re-create someone else's work.
"Do you think you could give me a ride to the ferry before you start?" Zack asked.
Michaela's heart dropped. Their time together was at an end. At least she got to see him until he boarded. Then she'd go to the Painted Lady and begin her canvas.
"When will you be ready?" Her voice shook a little.
"My bags are by the door."
As soon as they finished eating, Zack said good-bye to Blythe. Michaela got the car. Zack got in and Michaela headed for the ferry. By the time she went to bed that night, he'd be back at his home in Montana. She wished he wasn't going so soon after the Walk. She'd like to spend more time with him, get to know him better, but he had a job to do and so did she.
The drive was short, too short in her opinion. Michaela parked on the street and both got out of the car. She walked with him to the entrance.
"I'll have your painting shipped to you next week," she said.
"Don't," he said.
She stared at him. "Don't?"
"I can't sell it and it belongs to your mother. Why don't you send it to her as a gift?"
"Are you serious? She'll be over the moon."
He smiled. "Good."
"I think I'll send her mine, too. The paintings shouldn't be separated." Michaela realized her words had a double meaning. She didn't point it out.
The line of cars began to move. Zack took her hand and pulled her to him. "It's getting to be that time."
She nodded. "I wish. . ." she began but didn't finish saying she wanted him to stay.
Zack slipped his arm around her and kissed her on the mouth. Michaela didn't resist. The kiss was soft. It said good-bye. Using the back of his hand, he brushed her cheek and smiled. Pulling away from her, he headed for the ferry. Michaela watched as he walked down the wooden aisle and onto the waiting boat. He turned once and lifted
his hand in a goodbye gesture.
She waited until he was no longer in sight before turning and heading back toward her parking place. As usual, at this time, the place was teeming with people and cars lining up for their turn to drive onto the three-level ship. A group of tourists stood in a chaotic mob waiting for a van that would take them on one of the many tours around the island.
Then she saw her, a little girl with a red balloon. She couldn't be more than four years old. The balloon had come loose from the place on her arm where it was tied and began to float away. The child went after it. Michaela saw the accident in her mind. A car was coming, the child in front of it. The girl's eyes were on the balloon. The driver stomped on his brakes and squealing tires tried to defy the laws of physics.
Michaela knew they couldn't.
She didn't think she could either, but she had to try. Taking off after the little girl, she scooped her up, continuing her forward motion. She was too slow to completely avoid the speeding vehicle. It clipped her hip, sending her spinning. Michaela twisted in the air, the way she'd done as a teenager and when they hit the ground, the child was on top of her.
Michaela felt her head hit something hard and unforgiving. They two skidded for a second and then came to a rest. She was holding the child protectively against her breast. People rushed over, asking if she was all right. Michaela couldn't speak. The world around her turned yellow, then golden before it dissolved into black. She felt herself falling down a dark hole, but it was a safe place and she went with it until there was nothing.
The screech of tires on the dry pavement had Zack turning quickly. His gaze immediately went to the speeding car, then the child with Michaela chasing after her.
"No," he shouted, his legs already moving as he retraced his steps. He knew he wouldn't get there in time. He was too far away from her, but he had to know she was all right.
By the time he reached her, she was surrounded by the shipping authority cops and the city of Edgarstown police. The steady drone of an ambulance siren approached.
"Is she all right?" he breathlessly asked the policeman.
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