Photographs of Claudia

by KG MacGregor

  Copyright © 2010 by KG MacGregor

  Bella Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 10543

  Tallahassee, FL 32302

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or

  transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechani-

  cal, including photocopying, without permission in writing from

  the publisher.

  Printed in the United States of America on acid-free paper

  First Edition

  Editor: Katherine V. Forrest

  Cover Designer: Stephanie Solomon-Lopez

  ISBN 10: 1-59493-168-2

  ISBN 13:978-1-59493-168-0

  Acknowledgments

  This part of the book can be the most challenging to write,

  not because it’s hard to acknowledge others, but because it’s hard

  to do so adequately. I’m going to give it a try just the same.

  Thank you to my editor, Katherine V. Forrest, for reminding

  me of the vast difference between a manuscript and a story. It

  isn’t at all hyperbole to tell you that without her help, this book

  would not have made it to press.

  I wish also to thank my friend Tracy Van Zeeland, a

  commercial photographer in Appleton, Wisconsin. She was

  more than generous with her expertise, not only on the technical

  and artistic aspects of photography, but also on the ins and outs

  of running a studio business. Though she managed to mitigate

  some of my ignorance, I asserted poetic license in some places, so

  please know that any errors are mine.

  Thanks as always to Karen, who picked over my carelessness

  in the final drafts, and to all the staff at Bella Books for putting

  out a beautiful book. A special nod to editorial director

  Karin Kallmaker, whose dedication to lesbian romance is an

  inspiration.

  Finally, I owe my deepest gratitude to my partner Jenny, my

  rock in everything I do.

  About the Author

  A former teacher and market research consultant, KG

  MacGregor holds a PhD in journalism and mass communication.

  Infatuation with Xena: Warrior Princess fanfiction prompted her to

  try her own hand at storytelling in 2002. In 2005, she signed with

  Bella Books, which published the Goldie Award finalist Just This

  Once . Her sixth Bella novel, Out of Love , won the 2007 Lambda

  Literary Award for Women’s Romance, and the 2008 Goldie

  Award in Lesbian Romance. In 2009, she picked up Goldies for

  Without Warning (Contemporary Romance) and Secrets So Deep

  (Romantic Suspense).

  KG divides her time between homes in Miami and Blowing

  Rock, North Carolina. When she isn’t writing, she’s either on a

  hiking trail, a golf course, or if she’s really lucky, a cruise ship.

  Please visit her at www.kgmacgregor.com.

  Chapter 1

  “I don’t suppose I could talk you into trading shoes.”

  Leonora Westcott eyed the bride’s beaded white stilettos

  and her own Mephisto flats. “Not a chance. The only way you’re

  getting these is off my cold, dead feet.” She stepped from behind

  the camera to arrange Eva Pettigrew and her six attendants for

  their portrait. The Pacific Ocean shimmered in the late afternoon

  sun behind their perch on the terrace of the Ritz Carlton at Half

  Moon Bay. “But I have a box cutter in my bag if you girls want to

  saw off those heels.”

  The bridesmaids—youthful and lovely in powder blue

  chiffon—wore spiked heels that thrust their breasts forward and

  their rears back. Some of Leo’s feminist friends would have decried

  the look as sexist objectification of women, which made her feel

  a tad guilty for appreciating it so much. As long as she looked

  through her camera’s eye, no one would catch her ogling.

  “I saw Todd about an hour ago,” said the maid of honor, an

  Asian woman named Lon. “He looked like roadkill. Jason said

  they poured Maker’s Mark down his throat till four o’clock this

  morning.”

  Eva rolled her eyes. “Sweet. So on our wedding night, we’re

  going to sleep together. And I do mean sleep.” The soft June

  breeze whipped a strand of brown hair across her brow. “Okay,

  which one of you has the hairspray?”

  The girl nearest the door broke ranks. “I’ll get it.”

  Leo had seen Todd firsthand two hours ago on the bluff,

  where he had gathered his bleary-eyed groomsmen for a short

  series of casual photos. Only one of the men had managed to

  tie his bow tie correctly, but she had lent a hand to the others

  before sending them off to greet and seat the guests. Eva wanted

  casual poses like Todd’s also, but her grandmother had insisted

  on the traditional series for the formal wedding album. Leo was

  doing her best to accommodate both, snapping off candid and

  lighthearted images whenever the opportunities arose.

  Eva closed her eyes while her attendant sprayed a stream of

  the sticky product onto her bangs. “How many bottles of this

  have we gone through?”

  “This is our third.”

  “When I drop my veil, it’s going to feel like I’m wearing a

  space helmet.”

  “I’m afraid the wind’s going to be a lot worse down by the

  gazebo,” Leo said, taking over the task. Though her short black

  hair rarely got more than a brisk rub from a towel, she knew all

  about the virtues of hairspray, and makeup too. Helping people

  look their best for photos was part of her job, which she had

  been doing for over thirty years. Women as naturally beautiful as

  these didn’t need much help, but weddings always brought out

  the quest for perfection, whether in style or ceremony.

  Not that she was an expert on modern weddings. Early in

  her career she had shot hundreds, enough to know the standard

  vows by heart, but the Pettigrew-McCord affair was her first in

  three years. The last one had been extravagant as well, held in

  the Japanese Tea Garden of Golden Gate Park in San Francisco,

  featuring the daughter of one of her corporate clients, a giant in

  the computer industry.

  Most of her work these days consisted of magazine layouts,

  publicity photos for celebrities and corporate honchos, and even

  the occasional gallery exhibit. She had reached the pinnacle of her

  professional dreams, thanks to good fundamentals, perseverance

  and a handful of lucky breaks. On the rare occasions when she

  accepted a wedding assignment, it was usually for friends or clients,

  and more often than not she waived her five-figure fee. Such

  was the case today, since she was here as a favor to her longtime

  friend, Maria Long, one of the finest studio photographers she

  knew and a close friend of the bride’s family. Maria had broken

  her leg in a bicycle accident and didn’t trust anyone else to give

  her friends the caliber of work she had promised. Though it

  meant rescheduling a two-day magazine shoot
in Tucson, Leo

  was happy to do it and knew Maria would have done the same

  thing for her.

  She stowed the spray bottle out of the camera’s view and

  gestured toward Eva’s brow. “If you try to push that out of your

  eyes again, it’ll break off in your hand.”

  “That’s what I call hold.”

  It was also what Leo called picture perfect. She raised her

  Extech light meter to Eva’s cheek as the sun caught the soft box

  and cast an almost effervescent light upward. “Hold that pose

  right there. Could I ask you ladies to step out of the frame for

  just a moment?”

  She stepped behind her tripod and drew a deep breath.

  Chapter 2

  October 1986

  Leo took the index card from a freckled boy with a missing

  front tooth and matched his name to her list. “Nate Freeman.”

  “That’s my name. Don’t wear it out,” the third grader whistled

  cheekily as his friends guffawed.

  Rolling her eyes, she guided him to the front of the rural

  backdrop and positioned his hands atop a faux split-rail fence.

  “Keep your feet on those feet, please,” she said, indicating the

  yellow shoe prints on a mat on the floor. She had gone through

  her detailed instructions for school pictures when the class

  first arrived in the media center, but the children had paid her

  little mind once their teacher vanished and left them under her

  supervision.

  “All right, Nate. Stop looking at that pretty girl in the red

  dress and look at me instead.” The children within earshot

  hooted as Leo clicked the shutter to capture a blushing smile.

  Nate’s parents were going to love that photo.

  “I wasn’t looking at Alisa,” he protested.

  “I wouldn’t blame you one bit if you did.” She shot Alisa a

  wink that caused the girl to grin with obvious pride. “Now move

  along to the back of the other line. Who’s next?”

  One by one, she worked the crowd of eight-year-olds like a

  comic in a lounge act, pulling out all the stops to get the right

  reaction, the perfect expression. She loved the portrait side of

  photography, which constituted the bulk of her business. From

  the time she was twelve years old she had worked alongside

  her father in the studio learning what he considered the most

  important mechanical aspects of photography—lighting and

  composition. But what mattered most with commercial portraits,

  he had said, was making people happy with how they looked on

  film.She had cut her professional teeth on school pictures,

  hundreds upon hundreds of children every fall all over the

  Monterey Peninsula, using each sitting to hone her skills. That

  had been her father’s idea, a training tool so she would be ready

  to take over the business upon his retirement. Instead, it had

  become a principal source of revenue while she struggled to

  maintain the studio after her father’s sudden death six years ago.

  Fresh out of community college where she had studied business

  administration, she had been forced at twenty years old to put

  her education to practice in the support side of the studio—

  marketing, finance and administration. Thanks to steady jobs

  like this one, Westcott Photography had weathered her father’s

  death, and she now had the chance to focus more on her craft.

  “Alisa Workman.” Leo guided the girl in the red dress into

  position and returned to peer through the viewfinder. “All right,

  say…cheesy sneeze.” She snapped the portrait as Alisa laughed at

  the silly phrase, and got another keeper.

  Though she shot hundreds of identical photos in a single

  week, each was important to her. For most kids, these formal

  sittings were the benchmarks of their childhood. They would line

  the walls of their homes and fill the wallets of proud aunts, uncles

  and grandparents. They were permanent, enduring reminders of

  progress toward adulthood.

  “That one won’t come out,” a boy taunted from the line.

  “Nate already broke the camera.”

  Leo shot him a scolding look, but he had turned away to laugh

  with his friends. Too bad she didn’t have an assistant, someone to

  help pose the children and keep them in line while they waited.

  If only the teachers would stay with them, but no. They dropped

  their students off at the media center and disappeared. And most,

  like Mrs. Tyler right now, took their sweet time coming back.

  “Nate loves Alisa,” the children sang.

  “I do not!”

  Even towering over them at five-nine, she didn’t seem to

  intimidate them in the least. They grew louder by the minute,

  pushing and shoving in line, and popping one another with the

  complimentary plastic combs she had handed out when they

  first arrived. To make matters worse, another class was coming

  through the door.

  “All right, kids. Settle down. I’d appreciate it if you’d stand

  quietly by the door and wait for Mrs. Tyler.” Her pleas for calm

  had no effect. She could barely hear herself speak above the din

  of simultaneous conversations. Managing unruly kids was not in

  her skill set.

  “Excuse me, what is your name?” A quiet voice—an adult

  voice—came from the doorway.

  Leo whirled to see a young woman approaching the third

  graders, focusing on Alisa, who hadn’t caused any trouble at all.

  The woman, petite and slightly built with wavy brown hair past

  her shoulders, looked barely old enough to be a teacher, but

  she exuded an amazing aura of authority. Leo thought Alisa was

  going to be scolded by mistake and was about to intervene when

  the class suddenly grew silent.

  “Alisa Workman,” the girl replied shyly.

  “I really like the way you follow directions, Alisa. I bet Mrs.

  Tyler is very proud of you.” At once, the other third-graders

  turned forward and straightened their line. “It’s especially nice

  the way you keep your hands to yourself and listen to Miss…”

  She turned to Leo and flashed a brilliant smile.

  “Westcott.” Leo watched numbly, captivated by the way the

  woman had taken charge.

  “To Miss Westcott. I wish you were in my class, Alisa.”

  So she was a teacher after all, and apparently a respected

  one. Without raising her voice, she had brought the ruckus to a

  halt. Every single student in Mrs. Tyler’s class seemed to want to

  please her.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “Mrs. Tyler is late.”

  “I’ll be happy to wait with them if you want to start on my

  group. I’m Claudia Galloway, by the way.” The woman held

  out her hand. “I’m doing my internship with Miss Irwin this

  semester.”

  She took the offered hand. So she was Sandy Irwin’s intern—

  that explained why she looked so much younger than the other

  teachers, twenty-two at the most. Leo couldn’t wait to talk with

  Sandy again and ask her all about this Miss Galloway. “I’m Leo

  Westcott.”

  “I know.” She stepped away from the children and lowered

>   her voice. “I have a message for you from Sandy, which is to stop

  in later and say hi if you have the chance.”

  “Yeah, she and I are good friends.” Leo instantly worried that

  she shouldn’t have offered that. Sandy usually kept her personal

  life private at school. “I know a lot of the teachers because I’ve

  been shooting here so long. I have a studio in town.”

  “Westcott Photography? That gray Victorian on Van Buren

  Street?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “I sometimes cut through Van Buren on my way home. I love

  all those old houses along there, especially yours. Maybe if I stop

  by sometime you’ll let me peek inside.”

  “Sure, I’ll give you a tour of the whole place.” Leo couldn’t

  believe the invitation had come out of her mouth, and to a virtual

  stranger no less. She was glad to show off her studio, but rarely

  invited people upstairs to her private quarters.

  Mrs. Tyler suddenly bustled into the media center. “Sorry

  I’m late,” she said unconvincingly.

  “It’s all right. I was just admiring the way Alisa leads your

  class,” Miss Galloway said. “And I’m really pleased to see what

  good listeners they all are.”

  “Too bad I don’t have more like her. They can’t behave

  themselves, no matter what I threaten them with.” No sooner did

  she disparage her class than the whispering and fidgeting started

  again. “See what I mean?”

  Leo watched in astonishment as the class filed out noisily

  behind their frazzled teacher. Over her shoulder, she could see

  Miss Irwin’s class standing quietly as they waited to have their

  pictures taken.

  “That was…I don’t know what it was. How did you do

  that?”

  Miss Galloway winked at her and smiled. “We all have our

  tricks.”

  “Can you teach me that one? I don’t have a clue how to handle

  these kids, and all the teachers keep running off and leaving me

  on my own.”

  “Not much to it, really. Sandy and I expect our boys and

  girls to behave like Alisa.” She tipped her head in the direction

  of the retreating class. “And Mrs. Tyler expects her class to

  misbehave.”

  “Which is exactly what they did when she came back.” Leo

  looked again at Sandy’s class, astounded by the contrast between

  the two groups. “You’re a magician, Miss Galloway.”