by Anita Higman
Well, that was at least one less female to fight off. “So, what changed your mind?”
Lily did a shy kind of shrug. “He’s not the one for me. There has to be a bond that’s kind of like superglue.” She pressed two fingers together. “One time I accidentally superglued my fingers, and it was painful to try and get them apart. I didn’t have any of that remover stuff.” She chuckled. “But that’s the way love should be. Like superglue. Where it feels impossible to be apart from each other. Don’t you think so?”
Very astute woman, that Lily. “You may have something there.” Was that the way she was already feeling about Mason? Superglued? She knew the answer even before her mind had finished the question. She was falling in love with Mason. That was why everything mattered now. And why it bothered her so much that so many other women seemed to be dipping from the same bottle of superglue.
“But I know there is the perfect man out there for me...somewhere.” Lily looked at Trudie. “I can just feel it. Right here.” She touched her heart.
“I’m sure you’re right. There is someone waiting for you.” And somehow Trudie felt that what she was saying went beyond chitchat— that Lily was right.
Wiley strolled up to them. The moment he saw Lily’s face, he became dreamy-eyed with a look of total rhapsody.
It was obviously the perfect moment for introductions, especially since it had previously crossed Trudie’s mind that the two of them might hit it off. “Lily, I would like you to meet Wiley Flat. He co-owns the gallery. Wiley, this is Lily Larson. She works with Mason Wimberley.”
Wiley flushed as red as Trudie had ever seen him. Like fuchsia. He opened his mouth to speak. No words came out.
Lily offered her tremulous hand to Wiley.
He took her hand in his as if he were touching a priceless work of art, and then he kissed it.
A second later, Lily did the fuchsia thing.
Hmm. Fascinating.
Wiley looked like he’d started to breathe again. “Well, I see you ladies have found something to amuse the palate.” He looked at Trudie’s plate. “Glad to see you with such a good appetite this evening, Trudie.”
“Yes.” She stared down at her heaping plate, smiled, and then popped a stuffed mushroom in her mouth.
Wiley turned his gaze back to Lily. “It looks like our caterer has put out quite a scrumptious feast this evening.”
“Yes, it is. It was, that is. I already ate most of mine.” Lily set her plate down on a waiter’s empty tray.
Wiley had not only resumed his breathing, but he’d taken so many gulps of air in the course of observing Lily’s beauty, he looked fearfully close to hyperventilation.
Trudie already knew what he was thinking—that Lily was a goddess in the flesh. A living work of art. And that she was.
“I love your hair.” Lily gave Wiley another one of her shy shrugs. “Ponytails are so manly and becoming, Well, that is, on the right man.”
Wiley chuckled as if she’d said the wittiest thing he’d ever heard. “Lily, I would love to show you the rest of the gallery, if you’d like to see it.”
“Perf,” she squealed softly. “I mean I’d like that. Very much.” Lily hiccupped with a gasp—a female gesture that only one woman in a million could pull off.
Wiley offered his arm, and Lily wrapped both arms around his. Tightly.
But just before taking off, Wiley leaned over to Trudie and whispered in her ear, “Thank you for bringing me my bride.”
Trudie blinked. Surely he was jesting. But then one never knew with Wiley. As he left she heard him ask Lily, “Do you like protein bars?” Trudie almost burst out laughing but held it in as she watched them go off together to a secluded part of the gallery. Soon their heads were almost touching. Perhaps even superglued together. Guess Wiley found someone else to tell all his secrets to. Good for Wiley. He deserved to fall in love. Romance was apparently in the air, but Trudie felt like she was wearing an invisible gas mask.
After a brief pause of contemplation, she heard a familiar voice caress the air. “I love the way you paint, Trudie Abernathy.” Mason?
Chapter Forty
The moment Trudie turned toward Mason, his breath caught in his throat. He barely recognized her. She had on an amazing black dress and was looking even prettier than before, if that were possible. “You look... look wonderful.” Did I just stutter? Oh, brother. He hadn’t stuttered since grade school.
Trudie tapped her shoes together like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz. “Lane’s work in progress again.”
“I don’t think so.” Mason shook his head. “I’m looking at a masterpiece.”
“Thank you.” Trudie blushed, which made her even prettier. “I was so afraid.”
Mason took a step closer to her. “And what were you afraid of?”
“Well, of pretty much everything. But one at the top of my list was that you’d regret buying me the art studio. That is, if you didn’t like my work. You know, little terrors like that.”
Mason leaned toward her. “No need for terrors of any kind tonight. Everything I’ve seen...I’ve loved.” He caught her gaze. “But I was hoping for a private tour sometime this evening.”
“I would be happy to.”
He grinned as he stared down at the heap of food on Trudie’s plate. “That’s quite a load you have there. You’re making me hungry.”
Trudie rolled her eyes. “I was having an odd moment.”
Mason picked up a flute of something frothy and pink and took a sip. Not bad. “I looked for you earlier, but then I got waylaid by some strangers over there.” He motioned in the direction of the women who were still gawking at him. Women he’d found most annoying as they tried clinging to him like cobwebs. He’d known women like those over the years, starting as early as junior high. They were only concerned with the outward appearance, and after a few minutes of visiting with them, they usually turned out to be as interesting as a stack of pencils—the unsharpened kind.
Trudie stared at her shoes again. She suddenly looked so timid.
Mason took another sip of his froufrou beverage. “Your sister was good enough to drive me into the city. My car broke down on Will Clayton Parkway. She saw me and stopped. I’m afraid Old Maggie finally breathed her last.”
“I’m sorry.” Trudie looked up at him. “I know you loved that car.” She tilted her head. “So, will you feel obligated to buy something shiny and new?”
“No. What I had was just right for me.” He hoped she would get his double meaning, and he hoped she would approve.
Trudie’s shoulders seemed to finally relax. “Is everything going smoothly with your uncle Franklin buying the business?”
“Very smoothly. We’ve all been very pleased...my mother as well.”
“I’m happy for you, Mason.” Trudie touched his arm. “I really am.”
“I’m happy for me, too. My uncle sort of saved my life. I would have tried to run the business, but I wouldn’t have been very good at it. And I’m afraid it would have suffered for it.” Mason picked up another drink and offered it to Trudie. “Would you like something to drink? To wash down all that food?” He grinned.
Trudie chuckled. “Yes, thanks.” She set her plate down on a small table.
He handed her the flute. It was good to see her laugh again.
“By the way, thank you for the music and the dedication on the radio. It was such a surprise. A pleasant one. And, well...unforgettable.” She took a sip from the glass.
“It was my pleasure.” This time he touched Trudie’s arm. Then he looked out over the gallery, which was really filling up. He took note of Lane, who was standing across the room. She suddenly looked as though she were having the time of her life. “By the way, Lane went off captivated with your watercolors. But at the moment it looks like something else has captured her attention.” Something Mason was happy to see.
“Oh?” Trudie stepped forward, looking across the room. “It’s Hayden. He’s come.” Her words came out
as if a great quest had just been fulfilled.
“And who might Hayden be?”
Trudie looked at Mason. “Hayden was Lane’s first great love. He’s come back searching for her.” She smiled. “And it looks like he’s finally found her.”
“Oh, really.” What impeccable timing. Mason stared at the man with benevolence. From the looks of it, their relationship was taking up right where they’d left off. Hayden removed his cowboy hat and was doing the thing that men always did when they were really interested in a woman. He was trying to be ultra charming, and Lane appeared to be doing that giggling thing that women did in return when it was working. So, Mason thought he might be watching the greatest of miracles unfolding.
Trudie turned to him, and they smiled simultaneously. Perhaps they were having simultaneous thoughts too. Just as he was about to ask her for that private tour again, a stranger walked up to them. Or perhaps barreled over was a better description.
“It’s Trudie, Trudie, Trudie,” the woman said.
“Rosalie, I’m so glad you came.” Trudie gave the woman a hug.
“Sweets, I’m sooo proud of you. Couldn’t be prouder even if you were my own daughter.” The woman named Rosalie jiggled Trudie’s shoulders. “Mm, mm.”
“Thanks. Rosalie, I’d like you to meet Mason Wimberley. And, Mason, this is my employer, Rosalie—”
“Oh, yes, Bloomers, right?” Mason shook her outstretched hand.
“That’s me.” Rosalie raised a painted eyebrow and flicked at the feather in her hat. “Now you wouldn’t happen to be the man that bought Trudie those pretty—”
They were interrupted by yet another woman. There were more introductions to an anomalous-looking woman named Kat, who was as thin as his laptop and had a cooing, breathy voice.
Kat turned to Trudie. “Now you must mingle. I’ve seen you cowering over here in the corner, stuffing yourself. But, Mason, we mustn’t allow her to do that. She needs to embrace the moment. But before you do that, we have a large crowd now, so you’ll need to say a few words.”
“A few words?” Trudie seemed to go a little pale. “But I’m not a public speaker. I get all dizzy just thinking—”
“Upp.” Kat put up her hand, stopping Trudie’s objections. “You don’t have to be a public speaker. Just say a few words.”
“Like what?” Trudie licked her lips.
“You know, thank the people who’ve helped you. And the artists who’ve influenced you. The masters. That sort of thing.” Kat linked arms with her.
Mason felt sorry for Trudie. She looked rather pasty, like she might pass out. He leaned over to her. “You’ll do great. It’ll be okay.”
“Oh?” Trudie looked up at him. “You think so?”
Mason nodded. “I know so.”
“Go get ‘em, girl.” Rosalie lifted the drink out of Trudie’s hands.
Kat gently pulled Trudie toward the little platform in the center of the room and took the mike. “Ladies and gentleman, may I have your attention please.” She waited for a moment while the people gathered and settled down from their chatter. “Welcome this evening to the Flat Stone Gallery. We’re featuring a new artist whom I was fortunate enough to discover recently.” Kat raised her chin and spread her arms. “Her work is fresh and vivid and it transports us from the mundane to a planet yet unknown to us. So, I invite you this evening to discover this new world through the eyes of Ms. Abernathy and the exhibition entitled ‘The Electric Palette.’”
Mason noticed that Trudie had a look of astonishment. He’d be certain to ask her about that later.
“And now our artist has a few words for us. Please help me welcome Trudie Abernathy.” Kat moved away from the mike as she clapped.
Applause rose and fell as Trudie stepped up to the mike, looking pale but determined.
“Good evening.” The mike squealed, making Trudie step back a bit. “Oh, dear. Excuse me. Don’t you just hate that?” She grinned, looking flustered. “First, I want to thank each of you for coming this evening. I am honored to be here...to have my work shown in such a stunning and prominent gallery.”
Trudie smiled, looking over the crowd. “To be honest, it’s a dream I didn’t even have the courage to hope for. But I’m here, so that means there are people who dared to dream for me. A heart full of gratitude goes to my sister, Lane. We’ve been on quite a journey together, and she has proven to me over and over that she is the most generous and beautiful woman I’ve ever known, outside and inside. I’m fortunate to call her my sister and my friend. And she’s also the best image coach in the city, so I hope you’ll pick up one of her business cards before you leave.”
Chuckles flowed through the crowd.
Mason noticed that Trudie looked right at Lane, whose face radiated love back to her sister. Lane was holding the arm of Hayden, who seemed more than happy to have her clinging to him. Mason was happy for Lane, but what had been equally comforting was that even before Hayden’s appearance, Lane had assured him all was well.
Trudie then turned to look at him. “And deep appreciation goes to Mason Wimberley, who had an entire art studio delivered to my home. He performed this act of generosity when I was still far from believing in my abilities. But he already had the faith. Thank you, Mason. Words will never fully express the gratitude I have in my heart.”
Mason gave her a warm smile.
“And I’d like to extend my appreciation to so many others. Wiley Flat, who dropped into my life as a serendipity. Thank you for seeing the artist’s zeal in my eyes when I’d denied it for so long. And also to Kat Stone for this wonderful exhibition and evening.”
Trudie paused, but Mason noticed she no longer looked nervous. She looked contented and poised. And he’d never been happier for anyone in his life.
She took the mike from its stand and held it. “I have to say that my greatest influence didn’t come from any of the great painters through history, but from a young man named Cyrus, who is with us this evening. He reminded me that art is not just about perfection. It’s about fun, too. Thank you, Cyrus.”
Trudie saluted an African-American boy in the crowd, and he waved back at her. “You know, I’ve also discovered that art has such a wonderful capacity to connect people. When words aren’t enough, we can let art speak for us. It can express our grief, our joy, our triumph. It can celebrate our finest moment and share our darkest hour. It is the beauty and drama and secret yearnings of life...all unveiled in those impressions of light and color. I never knew how much I’d missed it until the love of art found me again. In my concluding words…and honestly, I didn’t even think I’d have any words.”
Laughter rose and fell again.
Trudie chuckled with them. “More than anything, I want to say that if you enjoy my work this evening and if you come to think I have any talent at all... then I want to recognize the Giver of those gifts. The Master Artist. Where all vision and design comes from.” She pointed upward and smiled. “Thank you.”
The stillness was replaced by a thundering applause. Trudie returned the mike to its stand and stepped off the stage. Her friends gathered around her, hugging and cheering her.
Mason stepped back, watching Trudie. It was a moment to be remembered always—one to be passed down to children and grandchildren. Now all he needed was the love of his life. Mason smiled, knowing he was looking right at her.
Chapter Forty-one
Hayden opened the front door of the gallery for Lane, and together they entered the warm night air. “I’m sure you’re pleased for your sister. She’s a fine artist.”
“Yes, she is.” Lane smiled at him, still trying to take him in. “Tonight was wonderful for her.” And wonderful for me, too.
Hayden paused in the parking lot. “I’ve really enjoyed seeing you again.”
“It’s been great to see you, too.” Lane looked at Hayden to make certain he hadn’t vanished. He seemed like such a phantom the way he appeared just after she’d thought about him.
�
�Would you like some coffee?” Hayden pointed to his left. “There’s a Starbucks right over there.”
Lane followed his gaze and saw the coffee house nearby. “Yes, I’d really like that.” She circled his arm, and they strolled across the parking lot.
“This year was my first time to go to the high school reunion.” Hayden glanced over at her. “I was disappointed not to see you there.”
“It’s nice to be missed, but I didn’t really feel up to it this year. So many people.” Lane breathed in the moist air.
“Now, that doesn’t sound like the Lane I always knew.” Hayden grinned. “I thought you loved crowds. Thrived on them.”
Lane chuckled. “Well, I still do. But this year was different. I guess you could say I was in a meditative state of mind.”
“Oh, one of those.” Hayden opened the door to Starbucks, and they went inside. “I know how that feels. More than you know.” He removed his hat.
While Lane wondered about Hayden’s remark, they were greeted with the intoxicating aroma of gourmet coffee and the happy noises of people getting exactly what they’d come for—good coffee and a pleasant place to spend an hour.
They ordered and then settled themselves in the back room. Hayden set his cowboy hat on one of the chairs. Funny how she’d never liked the cowboy look—except on Hayden. On him, it suited him well. It wasn’t phony or over-the-top. It was just pure Hayden, and she loved it.
Lane took a sip of her soy latte. “So, would you like to tell me about those reflective moments you’ve been having?”
“Well, it was some of those moments that brought me back to you.” Hayden looked at her.
“Oh, I see.” Lane felt her face warm. His response was a surprise. She hadn’t even known he was thinking of her.
“So, I’m a big advocate of reflection.” Hayden grinned. “Should have done more of it years ago instead of all that football.”
Lane leaned forward with genuine interest. “So, you never married?”
“I came close once. We were engaged. But it didn’t work out.”