by Faver, JD
Jon ran his fingers over his scruffy face. It wasn’t a beard. He hadn’t bothered to shave during the time he’d spent at the ranch and he’d intended to shave this morning, but he’d been afraid he might be tempted to cut his throat.
He glanced through his mail and messages before attempting to arrange his desk. By the time Courtney showed the Grafton-Majors into his office the throbbing in his head had been reduced to a dull thump and he was almost totally focused.
~*~
Merrick prepared an offer for the structure and Max signed beside his name. The old man hadn’t wanted much and that was good, considering the mountain of renovations facing them.
The next day, Merrick had a giant dumpster delivered to the parking lot. He and his crew started removing debris from the individual lofts.
Max and Willa made a beeline for the space they’d claimed for their gallery. Max opened the outside door to the sidewalk to freshen the air.
Willa tied her hair up under a bandana and grabbed a push broom to sweep, stirring a significant amount of dust.
“Whazzup, ladies?” Sherman strolled into their domain. “What’s all the uproar going on in the parking lot?”
“Sherman!” Max greeted him with a hug. “You’ll never guess! My brother and I just bought this building.”
Sherman gave her a stony gaze, holding her at arms length. “So, you’re my new landlady, eh?”
Max raised her brows. “Is that so bad?”
“Depends,” Sherman said. “You’re one of my best friends, Max. I don’t want anything to get in the way of that.”
“Don’t worry, Sherman. You can hand your rent over to Willa. She loves money.”
“Not true,” Willa protested. “I just love the things that money can buy.”
“If we hadn’t grabbed it,” Max said, “the building was scheduled for the auction block. It might have gone to someone who wanted to make the whole thing into a parking lot.”
Sherman wandered around the space, lifted the lid of a large box, and closed it back up. “You have a box of glass here. Some of it’s broken. Is my rent going up?”
“I don’t think so, but the building is going to undergo vast improvements.” Max grinned at him. “You may actually be proud to live here.”
Sherman’s brow knit and his mouth turned down. “This isn’t just my home,” he said. “It’s my workplace. My studio.”
“Relax, Sherman,” Willa said. “We have a long way to go before this place is habitable.”
Sherman gave himself a dramatic smack on the forehead. “But, I’ll never find such a great crib, man.”
“Relax, my friend. We don’t want you to,” Max said. “You’re standing in the middle of our gallery. We want to show some of your work.”
Sherman’s face split into a wide, white-toothed grin. “A gallery?”
“Right here. Look at the wall space.” Max gestured to the three solid planes. “I can see huge paintings and graphics.”
Willa spoke up from across the room. “We’re hoping to attract some up-and-coming local artists. A sort of artist’s community, if you will.”
Max nodded vigorously. “We can sell their work right here and Willa might be able to represent them in other venues.”
A wide grin spread across Sherman’s face. “Funny you should mention that, because I can see some of my amazing metal sculptures standing right in the middle of this room.”
~*~
At the end of the day, Merrick drove Willa and Max to a restaurant with a buffet bar. They’d attempted a quick clean up at Max’s place but Max still felt gritty.
The mingled aromas reminded her that she hadn’t eaten recently. She filled a plate at the grill and returned to the table.
“That looks nutritious.” Willa looked at Max’s plate piled with steak, fried shrimp, grilled chicken and a small bowl of mashed potatoes with cream gravy. “Did you miss the salad bar?”
“Nope, I ignored it. It looked way too healthy” Max pulled the tail off a batter-fried shrimp and defiantly popped it into her mouth.
“Leave her alone, Willa,” Merrick said. “She worked like a Trojan today.”
“So did I,” Willa protested.
Merrick looked at her pointedly. “And you got to choose your food like a big girl. Let Max eat what she likes.”
Max suddenly pushed away from the table and ran to the bathroom. She made it to the first stall before throwing up.
Willa followed her and offered a handful of paper towels.
“I guess you were right about my food.” Max rinsed her mouth with a handful of water. “It was too much grease for me.”
Willa raised her finely arched brows. “How long has this been going on?”
Max ran her wet hands over her face. “A few days, maybe more.” She took the paper towel and blotted her face. “Please don’t tell Merrick.”
Willa folded her arms across her chest. “Your big brother is going to kill Jon Claude Donnell.”
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
Jon managed to get through the day without killing anyone. He’d met with three sets of clients, anxious to engage him for renovations to their homes and workplace. Jon took notes but avoided setting any firm dates, promising to get back to them when he was ready to start.
His calendar was crammed with appointments, thanks to his enthusiastic assistant, Courtney.
When he returned to his apartment, he gutted up and checked his voice mail. That’s when he heard Max’s message. He played it over and over again.
“Jon, it’s Max...I just wanted to say I’m sorry and...I love you, no matter what you’ve done. Please give me a chance to apologize for lying to you.”
She didn’t sound like she was laughing at him. She sounded like she was truly remorseful. She’d recorded it right after he’d left. He didn’t know if she’d changed her mind since then, but he thought he’d better find out.
Jon drove over to Max’s loft and charged up the stairs He beat on her door in case she was painting with her music player plugged into her head. After a few minutes he tried again with no answer.
He remembered the fire escape and climbed up to the third floor from the outside, smiling when he saw the bird feeder filled with seed. He squatted on the landing and peered in through the window. The loft space looked eerily empty. Very few of her paintings remained against the wall. He nodded in satisfaction when he saw the chandelier hanging over the area where the claw foot bathtub sat behind the newly erected glass wall. He couldn’t see if the bed was in place from his vantage point. The loft was clearly uninhabited, yet he was reluctant to leave.
Finally he climbed down and drove out of the parking lot, feeling desperate to be near her.
He drove to Cherise Gilman’s gallery in the Heights, thinking he’d look in the windows to see if any of Max’s work was still on display. It was supposed to remain in place for at least thirty days, but he didn’t know if Cherise would honor the agreement given the circumstances of the opening.
The street was quiet at that hour and he was able to park the Thunderbird right in front. He walked up to the plate glass windows. The gallery appeared to be closed, but a few lights still shone from the inside. Jon shaded his eyes from the glare of streetlights.
Quite a few bare spaces on the walls attested to the sale of Max’s work. Some of Max’s other paintings were hanging in place of those originally selected for the art show opening.
“Why don’t you come on in, Jon?” Cherise stood in the open doorway, her full lips curved into an inviting smile.
He stepped back from the window. “I didn’t realize the gallery was still open.” He took a few steps toward her. “You’re keeping some late hours, Cherise.”
She shrugged. “I’m closed, but I don’t seem to have anything else to do with my time.” She stepped back from the door, allowing him to enter her domain.
~*~
Max’s throat closed up when she spotted Jon’s car outside of Cherise’s gallery.
After the meal, Willa had suggested they drive by the gallery to check on Max’s paintings. They’d planned to peek through the windows to see what paintings remained on the wall.
When they were at the restaurant, in the restroom, Willa had told Max that she should forget about Jon and turn her attention to painting and opening their gallery.
Merrick drove them to the Heights and turned onto the tree-lined street. He slowed down to look for a parking place when Max spied the vintage car and gripped his arm.
“No, don’t stop. Please drive me home.”
“I thought you two wanted to window snoop,” he said.
“Get us out of here, Merrick.” Willa’s face was grim as she slipped a protective arm around Max’s shoulders.
Max stared at Jon’s T-Bird. He was with Cherise. Cherise had said they were still together. Now Max knew the truth. Jon had been holed up with Cherise this entire time. He’d returned to his old girlfriend to comfort him while he licked his wounds.
Max’s stomach was roiling with anger and something else. They were two blocks past the gallery when she opened the window but the city air didn’t help.
“Pull over,” she said. Merrick complied and Max leaped out. She held onto the back fender to steady herself while she threw up. She climbed unsteadily back inside the truck and slammed the door. “I think I got some bad shrimp.”
Merrick offered to take her to the emergency room but she declined. “Just take me home, please.”
Max jumped out in the parking lot as soon as Merrick’s tires stopped going around. “I’m tired, guys,” she insisted. “I just want to get some rest.”
“Let me know if you can’t make the regatta, Max,” Merrick said. “I’ll have to arrange for alternate crew.”
“I wouldn’t let you down. Pick me up and we’ll get another trophy for your collection.” Max waved to them and ducked inside the building.
Early the next morning Max started on a new painting. From memory, she sketched the place on Jon’s family ranch where the dry creek bed ran through the stand of maples. She blocked in the large color areas.
Then she set two smaller canvasses together and began sketching a diptych. When finished, the two canvasses would be hung close together and the design would read as one, the space between, lending an element of drama to the paintings.
It felt good to be working on something that looked like something. The abstracts had been fun but this was what she preferred to paint.
It was late morning when Willa beat on her door.
Max put down her brush to admit her.
“That’s a pretty picture.” Willa pointed to the work in progress on the easel. “Here’s your breakfast.”
Max opened the bag, grinning when she saw scrambled egg biscuits with cheese oozing out. “You are my very best friend in the whole wide world and I love you.”
“Don’t you think you should see a doctor?” Willa asked. “Barfing your guts up can’t be good for this kid.”
“I will,” Max said. “Until last night, I kept hoping Jon would come back to me. You know, just show up and we’d get back together. I wanted to give him a chance to be a part of this.”
“Your big brother is going to tear Jon Donnell’s head off,” Wills said emphatically.
Max shuddered. “Please, I don’t even want to think about that.”
“Jon’s a complete scum-sucking weasel and doesn’t deserve you anyway.” Willa handed her a carton of milk. “Drink this so you’re kid will be nice and tall.”
Max snorted as she accepted the milk. “I don’t think there’s a chance he or she won’t be tall.”
“Didn’t it occur to you to use some protection?” Willa frowned at her. “I mean, I love your brother more than chocolate, but I wouldn’t let him near me unless we were using at least three forms of birth control.”
Max swallowed her bite of biscuit. “I never planned to sleep with Jon.” She shrugged. “It just happened.”
Willa furrowed her fine brow. “You know what they call girls who don’t plan ahead?”
“What?” Max looked up from the biscuit.
“Mommy.”
While Max and Willa spent time in their future gallery, Merrick directed his crew to strip the remaining debris from the unoccupied lofts. He met with an electrician and walked him through the spaces requiring rewiring.
Sherman offered to help and Merrick hired him to assist with the demolition and provide any welding services needed.
By the middle of the afternoon, they quit work and Merrick took both women to spend the night at his house. They planned to make an early start for the regatta the next day.
It was Willa’s first regatta, and she was bubbling with excitement. She chattered nonstop as she helped Merrick prepare their meal. All the while Willa kept casting worried glances in Max’s direction.
Max pulled a stool up to the dining bar in Merrick’s kitchen. She watched Merrick interacting with Willa. He treated her with a deference bordering on awe. Her brother was still her brother. He was still the golden wonder boy and master of all he surveyed, but somewhere along the way, he’d stopped being single.
He and Willa had become a couple.
~*~
Jon went by Max’s loft again. He’d had a long day, filled with people wanting him to work on their homes and offices.
Oleg Cantwell had poked his smarmy face into Jon’s office to make a few smart comments alluding to his near incarceration.
Jon stood up and made a lunge for him and Oleg nearly fainted. He disappeared from the building and wasn’t seen for the rest of the day.
After his last client left, Jon drove straight to the loft and banged on Max’s door several times. He thought he’d wait for her and descended the stairs intending to sit in his car, no matter how long it took her to get back home. He met Max’s friend, Sherman coming up the stairs.
“Hey, man,” Sherman said. “I remember you. You’re the dude who thought Max’s name was Millie.” Sherman laughed heartily.
Jon gave him a grim nod. “I was misinformed.”
“That’s the truth, man. She’s not home.”
“So I discovered,” Jon said. “You don’t happen to know where she might be, do you.”
“The three of them left earlier. They were going sailing in Galveston. Some big boat race.”
“The three of them?”
“You know Max, her brother and the little one, Willa. They went to Galveston to the boat race.”
Jon frowned at him. “Are you saying they’re going to watch boats race or that they’re going to be on the racing boats?”
“That Merrick,” Sherman said. “He’s the big boat racer. He’s got his boat down there and the girls are going to help him race all weekend long.”
Jon drove away thinking that Max was obviously not pining away for him.
When he’d stopped by Cherise’s gallery the night before, she’d told him that Max’s paintings were selling well. Cherise invited him to dine with her, but he’d declined.
He nuked his dinner and listened to Max’s voice on his saved messages. He shook his head as the microwave timer sounded.
Somehow he’d managed to lose her again.
On Saturday, Jon faced a boring day alone. He paid bills and threw away junk mail. By mid-afternoon he was in his car, speeding down the freeway, headed to Galveston.
Anticipating seeing Max made him feel lighthearted. He pushed aside thoughts that she might reject him.
He found the Galveston Yacht Club and learned the location of Merrick Foster’s slip. As he strolled down the wooden pier, the sun warming his skin, he spoke to people on some of the boats as he passed. His spirits were high. He would see Max and get their relationship mended.
It was a beautiful day. A family with teenagers was having a party aboard one boat. He reached the slip where Merrick’s boat was supposed to be docked and found it empty.
Jon tried to stem his disappointment. He’d wanted so badly
to see her. To heal the breach between them. He smiled, thinking that the woman he loved was somewhere out in the Gulf, but she would return to this spot at some point in time.
“Young man.”
Jon turned toward the voice. It belonged to a gray-haired woman sunning herself aboard the boat in the neighboring slip.
“If you’re looking for Merrick, he’s gone out.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Jon said. “I was actually looking for his sister.”
“They’re all out there. It’s a regatta weekend.” She motioned to him. “Why don’t you come on board and have some refreshments while we’re waiting? My son is part of Merrick’s team. They won’t be back for a while.”
“That’s very kind of you.” Jon climbed onto the large cabin cruiser. He introduced himself and learned that his hostess’ name was Thelma. “This is a nice rig.”
“My husband, Edward is a fishing fanatic. We’ve been berthed next to Merrick since he first got that boat. He’s a lovely boy.”
Jon murmured assent, thinking of his last encounter with Merrick. He accepted a tall glass from Thelma and sipped the contents.
Thelma raised her glass in a toast to Jon. “I think mimosas are the perfect way to start the day, don’t you?”