Sparked by Love

by Peggy Bird

  “Thank you, ma’am. I aim to please. If I can’t convince you to like me with my artistic talents and my cooking, I’ll take convincing you with my attempts at humor.”

  “The other two work. So does the way you … well …I guess it’s the way you, you know, take care of me.”

  “You’ve been responsible for yourself for a long time now, haven’t you?”

  “Yeah, between my father’s inattention and my mother’s love for the bottle, I’ve been on my own for most of my life.”

  “No wonder you don’t know how to react when someone cares for you, takes care of you.”

  The more Shannon talked the more it became clear why she was so reluctant to say how she felt about him. What would it take to convince her he was serious about wanting to be more than a friend? Would she always hold back something to protect herself? He was as determined to do what it took to breach those walls as she was to do what it took to get her father’s attention. Maybe even more so. He just wasn’t sure how to do it.

  “It’s always been something I’ve done myself. For myself.”

  “Doesn’t have to be, you know. I … ” His phone buzzed and he glanced at the screen. It was a text from Giles Kaye, saying there was an emergency at the studio. “Shit. Hold the thought. I have to see what this is about.”

  Leo called the studio. Giles was frantic. One of the annealing ovens was down; Giles was on deadline for a project; the guy who was supposed to be helping him was AWOL; a piece of his project had thermo-shocked and had to be recreated.

  Leo stopped him before Giles could list any more disasters. “I’ll be right there. But I have company. All right if she watches?”

  “As long as she stays out of the way and lets you alone long enough to get me out of this mess, you can bring the entire Thorns soccer team as far as I’m concerned.”

  “We’re at my house and about to finish breakfast. We’ll be there soon.”

  • • •

  Although Shannon had never been in any kind of artist’s studio, much less a glass studio, she thought she knew what one would look like. The GlassCo studio didn’t fit the image. Leo led her through a large, metal, garage-type roll up door into an industrial looking building. There was nothing artsy about it.

  On one side of a large open space two furnaces holding a yellow-orange substance gave off a great deal of heat. Opposite the furnaces was a wall of metal boxes of various sizes, a few with doors open so she could see what looked like bricks lining the inside. In the back were two long tables, and behind them, she saw shelves crowded with jars of colored granules and long tubes of colored spaghetti-looking sticks. A woman was working there wearing safety glasses and maneuvering large sheets of glass. A man was pacing in front of the tables.

  As soon as the man noticed their arrival, he stopped pacing. “Leo, thank God you’re here. I can’t believe the mess I’m in.”

  “We’ll get it squared away.” Leo took his arm from around Shannon’s shoulders and waved in the general direction of the two people. “Shannon, meet Giles Kaye and Amanda St. Claire. Everybody, this is Shannon Morgan.”

  Amanda smiled and said, “It’s nice to meet the woman who’s put such a big grin on Leo’s face lately.” She removed her glasses, walked out from behind the table, and held out her hand.

  “Nice to meet you, too,” Shannon said. “I’ve seen pictures of your work in the paper. It’s so uncomplicated and yet so complex. It really draws you in. I loved it.”

  “And I love the way you describe it. Thanks.”

  “Okay, enough small talk,” Giles said. “Sorry to ruin your day by making you hang out here watching us work, Shannon, but I’m desperate.”

  “I’m happy to have a chance to watch you blow glass. The only time I’ve ever seen anyone work with glass was at the Clark County Fair. There’s a guy there who makes little glass animals.”

  “Oh, Dave. Yeah, he’s good,” Giles said. “I like his work, too.”

  While the two men got things ready to work on Giles’s project, Amanda gave Shannon a quick tour of the studio. She pointed out the glory holes full of molten glass and the equipment the glass blowers used, then she showed off the sheet glass, stringer, and frit—what Shannon thought looked like spaghetti and granules—she used for her kiln-formed glass. Lastly, she indicated what they all shared—a wall of kilns and annealing ovens and the small office at the back.

  Something Amanda didn’t explain caught Shannon’s eye in the office. “What’s all that?” she asked, pointing to long, thin and carefully separated tubes of blown glass stacked on what appeared to be temporary shelving along one wall of the office.

  “Ah, you’ve discovered one of our problems these days,” Amanda said. “Those are the pieces for Leo’s fireworks. He keeps making more of them, and we’re running out of storage space. For a while he was taking them home but Walter got into them. Broke some and damaged others so they’re here until he can find a safe place to store them.”

  “I may have a solution to your problem,” Shannon said as she inspected the pieces. Before she could explain what her solution was she saw five pieces, blocks of glass with subtle designs in spectacular colors. “This is your work, isn’t it? It’s wonderful. The colors are beautiful! I had no idea glass came in all these shades.”

  “It is mine and thanks. The colors are one of the reasons most of us do what we do. Just when we think we’ve used all the colors possible in our work, Bullseye brings out new ones and we’re addicted again.” To the puzzled look on Shannon’s face, Amanda responded, “Bullseye manufactures the glass we use. Their factory and retail store are not too far from here. Have Leo take you there some day. It’s like a candy store for glass artists, but it’s even pretty to look at if you don’t work with the material.”

  Amanda picked up two folding chairs propped against a set of cabinets and handed one to Shannon. “The guys should be ready to work by now. Let’s go sit out of their way and watch them. It’s fascinating. I still love to watch, even after we’ve lived in each other’s laps for all these years.”

  “I don’t mean to drag you away from your work,” Shannon said as they left the office.

  “You’re not. I was finishing up when you got here. All my pieces are in the kilns cooking.” She indicated the metal boxes.

  “What’s the project Giles is working on?” Shannon asked as they watched the two men select long rods from an assortment on a pair of sawhorses.

  “It’s called ‘The Flowering of Peace.’ It’s for a peace-themed exhibit in San Francisco. He’s designed three round, petal-shaped bowls, one inside the other, the small center one holding even smaller glass balls to represent the seeds of peace. I think there’s a dove involved somehow, too, but I’m not sure. It’s pretty complicated. To get the pieces to adhere, the layers all have to be the same temperature or they won’t fuse. And if the pieces are unevenly heated, one piece might crack.”

  “Like when you put ice into a glass fresh from the dishwasher drying cycle?”

  “Exactly. Glass doesn’t like to change temperatures too fast. That’s what happened to Giles’s piece. He had the outer layer and the small open round at temp but apparently not the second layer. It cracked when he was putting what he thought was the almost finished piece into the annealing oven for a cool-down. So now he has to redo the whole thing. It set him back in what was already a tight schedule.”

  As Shannon watched, the two men donned glasses with smoked lenses to protect their eyes against the intense light of the molten glass and then began to recreate the first of the broken pieces. Amanda explained how Leo was using a blowpipe to collect a gather of glass from the glory hole, the furnace full of molten glass, then with a puff or two, blowing a bubble of glass which Giles molded into the shape he wanted, his hands protected by thick pads of newspaper. When it was the size Giles wanted it to be, he attached a punty, one of the long rods on the sawhorses, to the bottom of the piece and the bubble was released from the blowpipe. After
it went back into the fire to reheat it, a hole was cut in the top to form the bowl shape and Giles could work to create the petals. Not happy with the first one, Giles got rid of the piece and the process started all over again.

  It took three tries for Giles to be satisfied with the shape of the bowl. When it was finally right, he applied molten glass in a contrasting color to the edge in what Amanda called a lip wrap.

  “I’ve never seen anything so fascinating,” Shannon said.

  Amanda smiled. “Fire, hot glass, cute guys playing with it. What about that isn’t fascinating?”

  “They obviously have done this a lot because they’re so coordinated in what they do, so graceful. It’s like watching a couple of ballet dancers.”

  Leo groaned. “I think every woman I’ve ever known who’s watched glass blowers at work said that! It’s almost like it’s … ”

  Another woman’s voice interrupted. “Do you have a lot of women watch you dance, Leo?”

  Fortunately, Leo was holding a punty, not a piece of glass, so when he dropped it nothing broke. “Cathy, what’re you doing here?” he asked. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to be rude. Let me try again. Hello, Cathy, nice to see you.”

  The woman walked up to him and kissed him on the cheek. Who the hell was this woman that she could just kiss Leo? And not only was he not surprised that she did, but he didn’t object. Shannon wasn’t sure why it bothered her so much. She didn’t own Leo. But when the man with whom you just spent a torrid night as well as a morning of gut-wrenching talk was kissed by a beautiful woman, it made her uncomfortable. Okay, more than uncomfortable. She’d never been jealous of another woman before, but she was pretty sure this was what it felt like.

  “You could never be rude, Leo,” the woman said. “And to answer your first question, I was over at Bullseye buying glass, and I thought I’d come by to see how you’re doing. I haven’t seen you in ages. Was the piece you put in to be annealed yours? It looked interesting.”

  “No, it’s Giles’s work.”

  “Now I’m the rude one. Hello, Giles, nice to see you again.

  Giles nodded acknowledgement before continuing to clean up the tools they’d been using.

  “And, Amanda, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you, too.” Cathy looked at Shannon with an expectant expression on her face. “I’m Cathy Anderson.”

  “I’m Shannon Morgan.”

  “Are you a glass artist, too?”

  “No, I’m a … ”

  “She’s with me, Cathy,” Leo interjected.

  “Ah, I see. Well, this is a bit awkward isn’t it?” Her laugh sounded brittle as she looked at Leo. “Your past and your present colliding.” Turning back to Shannon, she said, “I’m Leo’s ex.”

  Of course she was. Leo had never mentioned her name when they’d swapped breakup stories, but given the way her life had been going lately, it was only to be expected that his ex-girlfriend would not only be another glass artist but also a stunning redhead with a killer body, curved in the right places, voluptuous where it counted, and with the long legs of a dancer. Shannon looked at the other woman’s tights and silky tunic then down at her jeans and T-shirt. There was no comparison. Cathy won on all counts.

  Amanda stood. “I doubt it’s awkward for any of us, Cathy. We’re all grown-ups. Want a cup of coffee? We have a Keurig now and have a steady supply of whatever you want to drink.”

  “Coffee would be great. By the way, I saw your latest work at The Fairchild. It’s fascinating. You’re still finding interesting things to do with metals and foils, aren’t you?”

  The two women went into the office in the back, continuing the conversation about their work. Leo took the chair Amanda had vacated and reached for Shannon’s hand. “She’s never dropped in without warning before. I’m sorry.”

  “She’s gorgeous.” The words were out of Shannon’s mouth before she could stop them.

  Leo frowned a bit. “I guess.”

  “And she does glass like Amanda does?”

  “No, she casts glass. Like Lillian Pitt’s mask on the Land Bridge.”

  Shannon took a deep breath and let it out with a whoosh. “The two of you seem so … I don’t know … so civilized, I guess. Neither one acts angry or anything.”

  “Because we’re not. It just didn’t work out between us. We both knew it wasn’t going well. She was the one who made the break but it was bound to happen.”

  Giles, who’d been eavesdropping but trying to look like he wasn’t, came over and stood in front of the couple. “Amanda and I were rooting for them to end it weeks before they finally did. Leo wasn’t pleasant to be around for the last few months they were together. She’s a bit of a diva—her work is wonderful and she shows in all the right galleries but the attention has gone to her head. He’s much happier with you, believe me.”

  “Thanks, Giles, I appreciate it,” Shannon said. She noticed the grateful look Leo gave Giles.

  “And here comes the queen herself,” Giles said in a whisper, as Amanda and Cathy came out of the office, both of them carrying mugs.

  “Leo, Amanda told me about your wonderful commission in Vancouver,” Cathy said. “Congratulations. It sounds exciting. When can I see it?”

  “It’s a short term installation. It’ll go up a few days before the Fourth of July and come down right after.”

  “Ah, performance art.”

  “In a manner of speaking, I guess.”

  “You and Matthew Barney,” she said, mentioning the artist known for his elaborate, often brief and quirky, art installations.

  “I’m not sitting on a block of ice wearing only Vaseline, no.”

  “I was speaking metaphorically, Leo.” She finished what was in her mug. “Well, I better get my glass home. I have another show opening in three months, and I have only half my work finished for it.”

  Amanda took the mug. “Nice to see you again, Cathy. Good luck with your show.”

  “Thanks, Amanda. Back at you.” She pecked Leo on the cheek again. “Good luck with the project, Leo.” She waved at Giles. “Hope your piece works out, too.” She was two steps away from the door when she said, “Oh, and nice to meet you, Sharon.”

  “Bitch,” Giles muttered.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “You’re quiet,” Leo said, glancing over at Shannon. She’d been looking out the window on the passenger side of his truck without saying a word since they left the studio, and he hadn’t a clue what she was thinking.

  She seemed to take a minute to pull her thoughts away from wherever they’d been. “Sorry. I’m thinking about stuff.”

  “Such as?”

  “Well, for one thing, you need a place to store your pieces of glass for the fireworks.”

  “How do you … ? Oh, right, Amanda must have told you. Yeah, it’s getting to be a problem. I can’t take the pieces home because of Walter. And all the temporary storage places where I could rent space would require putting in shelving which would be too expensive.”

  “My second bedroom has bookshelves built along one wall. Would it work to store your glass there?”

  “Are you kidding me? Close to the installation site, complete with shelving, and free? That’s as perfect as it gets.” He looked over at her again. “Oh, uh … maybe I’m assuming too much. Do we need to be talking rental terms?”

  She shook her head and a small smile appeared. “Of course not. I wouldn’t offer the space if I didn’t mean it to be free.”

  “Then I accept. Thank you. Amanda will be thrilled to get my glass out of the office.”

  “Why don’t we go back and get the pieces now?”

  “How about tomorrow? Before I take you home.”

  “If that’s what you want, great.” The glass storage settled, Shannon retreated again into silence.

  “But where to keep my glass is not what’s really bothering you.” It wasn’t a question.

  His prodding was met with another silence for what seemed like a long time. Finally, in a
small voice he’d never heard her use, she said, “She’s so beautiful.”

  “Who is? Amanda?” He couldn’t figure out what his studio mate had to do with anything.

  “Cathy. She’s gorgeous and talented and has great clothes and probably kisses like a porn star and … ”

  “You’re jealous?” He stared at her until the light they were waiting at turned green. “You are, aren’t you?” He couldn’t help it. He grinned.

  “No, absolutely not.” She shook her head. “Well, maybe a little. A tiny bit.” The headshake turned into a nod. “Okay, I’m jealous. She’s perfect. And I am decidedly not.”

  “Let’s see, you’re jealous of my ex-girlfriend; you tell me your family secrets after a bad evening; you wear sexy underwear for me and you woo my dog with custom-made dog biscuits. Why, Ms. Morgan, I do believe you’re beginning to have feelings for me.”

  “I never said I didn’t.”

  “You sure as hell haven’t exactly been open about it.” Leo wanted to say more, wanted to call her on her inability to tell him how she felt about their relationship but he was afraid to push too hard and make her run.

  “Okay, maybe I haven’t been. I’ve never told a man I … ” She stared up at the roof of the truck as if she were hoping to see the space station appear there. “I cared for him.”

  “Then never said ‘I love you’ either, I’d guess.”

  She shook her head, still not looking at him.

  “You’ve come dangerously close to the L word by calling us lovers, though. After all, ‘lovers’ contains the L word.”

  “The L word? I thought the L word was ‘lesbian.’ At least, the TV show said it was.” A smile flickered across her face.

  “I assume you have noticed on the occasions when I have been naked with you that I am not eligible to be a lesbian, not without surgical intervention,” Leo said.

  The smile was now a full-fledged grin. “Yes, I have most definitely noticed.”