All Summer Long

by Melody Carlson

  All in all, Tia felt that as a couple they were not only having a lot of fun but making real progress in getting acquainted. There were moments when she half expected Leo to pop the question—although she still felt it was too soon. No way did she want him to rush into anything. Not like he’d done with Natalie. She would never say or do anything to push or pressure him, but she knew their relationship was about as good and solid as it could be. And it was wonderful!

  A few days after Labor Day, Julie called a business meeting with Leo and Tia. They met in the dining room with coffee and blueberry muffins, and Julie announced that due to a lack of reservations going into the fall, they would only be offering two dinner cruises a week, on Fridays and Saturdays. “Only one dinner per night,” she told them. “No more early bird dinners and sunset dinners.”

  “I sort of figured that was coming,” Tia admitted.

  “I suppose I didn’t fully consider this last spring. I mean, the seasonal nature of the dinner cruises and how that might impact employees. I was so focused on getting the business started—and then Roland got sick.”

  “Well, we all knew this was going to be learning by trial and error,” Tia reminded her.

  “And we haven’t done too badly,” Leo added.

  “Well, I’m sorry I didn’t think it through better,” Julie said. “I realize that probably means some of your staff and crew will have to look for more permanent employment, or maybe get second jobs. I do want to keep both of you on your regular salary for the off-season if I can. I still need to go over the books a bit more.”

  “I was asked about captaining for an Alcatraz cruise line,” Leo told her. “It’s just day work and wouldn’t interfere with the dinner cruises. Would you mind if I looked into it?”

  “No, of course not,” Julie told him.

  “I can always quit that if I need to,” he said. “I mean, when the season picks up again. Or next summer.”

  “That’s good to know.” Julie turned to Tia. “Will two dinners a week feel like enough work for you?”

  Tia shrugged. “It’s been so busy this summer that it sounds sort of good, right now anyway.”

  “Well, I’ll understand if you need to look for something else too.” Julie frowned. “But I won’t be happy to think I’ve complicated your lives like that. So that you both need two jobs to get by, I mean.”

  Tia smiled. “Say, we might be able to focus on booking some more special events—anniversaries, weddings, birthdays, bar mitzvahs, and whatnot. That could help fill the calendar in a bit.”

  “That’s true.” Julie brightened. “The more established we get, the more I expect we’ll have bookings. Don’t you think?”

  “Absolutely.” Tia nodded. “Our guests seemed to have enjoyed themselves. Hopefully they’ll spread the word.”

  “I’ll give you both a copy of the off-season budget. You can do as you feel best with your staff and crew,” Julie said. “But by mid-October, I expect we’ll be working our off-season schedule.”

  After Julie left, Leo turned to Tia. “I have something to show you,” he said mysteriously. “Come with me.”

  “Okay.”

  He led her outside and across the foredeck, taking her out to the bow. “Remember the first time we stood together in the bowsprit of the sailboat?”

  She laughed. “Of course.”

  He leaned over to kiss her. “Good.”

  “How could I forget?”

  He nodded with a hard to read expression.

  She peered curiously at him. Something about this felt unsettling. Almost as if he was about to say something important—like good-bye. “You said you had something to show me.” She peered out over the water, which was gray-blue and enveloped in fog. “What is it?”

  Leo reached out to take her hands in his and then got down on one knee. “Tia D’Amico,” he said in a serious tone, “I love you with my whole heart and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

  “Wh—what?”

  “Tia, I’m asking you, will you please marry me?”

  Tia was dumbstruck. And happy. And speechless.

  “I know this is sudden.” He was still on one knee. “But I’ve given it lots of thought. And when you know it’s right, you know it’s right. Believe me, Tia, I know this is right. Will you marry me? Will you come live on my houseboat with me?”

  With tear-filled eyes, Tia bent down to hug him. “Yes!” she exclaimed. “I will marry you, Leo. You name the time and the place and I will become your wife.”

  He stood, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close for a nice long kiss that made her feel like her knees were melting. “To seal the deal.” Leo reached into his shorts pocket, extracting a small hand-carved wooden box. “This is for you.”

  She opened the lid and there, nestled in dark blue velvet, was the most magnificent ring she had ever laid eyes upon. Two stones—one pale blue and one darker—entwined in wavelike bands of platinum. It was perfect.

  “How did you do this?” she asked as happy tears trickled down her cheeks. “This is it. The ring I dreamt about as a girl.”

  “I know.”

  “But it’s really it. It looks just like I imagined it would. How did you—”

  “Remember that time you told me you’d have to marry a guy who was born in December?”

  She stared at him. “December?”

  He grinned as he pointed to his chest. “December eleventh. My stone is blue topaz. Yours is aquamarine. They look great together, don’t you think?”

  “Beautiful.” She shook her head in wonder. “But where did you find this ring?”

  “I had it made.” He lifted it from the box. “Let’s see if it fits.”

  Tia was dumbfounded as Leo slid the new ring onto her left hand ring finger. “It fits. How did you know what size I wore?”

  He pointed to the claddagh ring on her right hand. “Remember when I tried that on my pinky? I just told the jewelry artist and he had me try on ring blanks until it felt right on my pinky. He assured me he could adjust the ring if you need it.”

  She stared down at it, shaking her head. “No, it fits perfectly.”

  “You really like it?”

  “I love it.” She looked up at him. “But not nearly as much as I love you.”

  “I love you too.” He kissed her again.

  1

  Nicole Sherman had no idea why her mother had slipped into the back of her art classroom this afternoon, but since this seventh-period class she was teaching was half over, Nicole pretended not to notice. It wasn’t easy to ignore that platinum blonde hair styled within an inch of its life. Her sixty-five-year-old mom wore a slightly catty expression as she slid into a vacant chair. Sitting up straight, she pristinely clutched her faux Coach purse in her lap and, unlike the real students, looked attentive.

  Nicole cleared her throat, continuing her lecture on the Renaissance period and trying not to be distracted by her mom, although her pale blue DKNY pantsuit looked comically out of place amidst the high school students. Slouching in their “uniforms” of shredded denim, faded tees, grubby flip-flops, and strange hairdos, these teens were bored and antsy and probably too warm since the temperature in the art room was pushing 80 degrees.

  Nicole clicked to the next image projected on the screen overhead. She always reserved the Renaissance for the last week of her art history class. Not because she was saving the best for last but because it would be irresponsible to leave it out completely.

  “Raphael is considered one of the premiere painters of the High Renaissance.” Nicole stared at the somber self-portrait up on the screen. Even Raphael looked restless and discontent. “Born Raffaello Sanzio in Urbino, Italy, this artist is best know for his religious works, and in many ways, his style was more lifelike than that of his predecessors.” Feeling herself surrender to the heat-induced stupor, she wondered why the art department was the only building with no air conditioning. She clicked to the next image.

  “Rapha
el did numerous Madonna and child paintings in various settings. Perhaps he simply wanted to get it just right.” She tried to inject interest into her voice. “Most would agree that he did.” She clicked to Portrait of a Young Man. “It’s interesting how Raphael captured the young man with that sideways glance—as if he’s got mischief on his mind.”

  Really, she wondered as she clicked to the next image, is this how you’re planning to spend your life? Boring these disinterested high school students with information they probably wouldn’t retain past their final exam on Friday—if they kept it that long. What was the point? She glanced at the class as she clicked to the next image. To her surprise, a hand raised. Was someone really going to ask a question? But then she realized it was only her mother—waving eagerly like a first-grader. Some of the students were looking at her with a smidgeon of curiosity.

  Nicole bit her lower lip. To allow her mother to speak up was dicey at best. Caroline Sherman was unpredictable—she tended to speak first and think later. It might amuse these teens, but Nicole wasn’t ready to witness her class degenerate into adolescent chaos. It was the last week of school, and as Principal Myers liked to say, the natives were restless. Why encourage them?

  “Miss Sherman?” her mother called out urgently. “I have a question.”

  “Class,” Nicole said in a flat tone, “our unexpected visitor happens to be my mother.” She forced a smile, hoping to appear more mannerly than she felt. “I’d like you to meet Mrs. Sherman.” She looked directly at her mother. “You have a question?”

  “Yes, Miss Sherman, I do.” Her mother’s blue eyes twinkled as she stood up. “I’m curious. Have you ever seen any original works of this particular artist, Raphael? And if you have, will you please tell us about it?”

  Nicole considered the question. Of course, her mother already knew the answer, but for some reason she wanted Nicole to share with the class. Nicole took in a deep breath, noticing that her students actually looked somewhat attentive now. Perhaps this was a teachable moment.

  “As a matter of fact, I have seen a few pieces of Raphael’s original art.” She told them about how she’d spent a year touring Europe after graduating from college. “It was a really sweet gift from my parents and turned out to be an amazing trip for me. Seeing the actual works of the people I’d studied made the art come to life for me. And when I walked past the pond where Monet had painted the lily pad painting, I could almost feel his presence.” She told them about visiting the Louvre and some of the Renaissance works there. To her pleasant surprise, most of her students perked up, and some of them were actually listening with genuine interest.

  She continued to tell them about Florence, Italy, pointing out that Raphael and some of his contemporaries had lived there. “You can imagine how it would inspire them to be living around other artists, exchanging ideas and—” She was cut off by the bell, signaling that her last class and the school day had ended. “That’s all for today,” she called out as the students gathered their backpacks and things and made a mass exodus.

  A girl named Alyssa paused by the door. “That’s pretty cool, Miss Sherman. I wish I could go to Europe like you did.”

  “Yeah, me too,” the boy behind her said wistfully.

  “Maybe you will,” Nicole said hopefully.

  After the students had exited, Nicole smiled at her mother. “Thanks for asking that question, Mom. It was just what we needed.”

  Caroline Sherman laughed as she walked to the front of the classroom. “Seemed like you were losing them, honey. I figured a little maternal prodding couldn’t hurt.”

  “Well, I’ve never been particularly fond of the Renaissance Period.” Nicole shut down the program on her computer and turned off the projection screen. “I appreciate what it did for the art world and all that, but it’s just not my cup of tea. You know?”

  Her mom gave her a little hug. “I understand completely.”

  Nicole closed her laptop. “Why are you here?”

  “Because I knew you were stuck.”

  “Huh?” Nicole frowned. “How could you possibly—”

  “I meant stuck in general, Nikki.”

  “What do you mean? Stuck how?” She studied her mom’s carefully made up face. For sixty-five, this woman looked pretty good.

  “Oh, you know . . . the things you were telling me last weekend at Michael’s birthday party—about how you felt sort of lost after breaking up with Peter and you felt stuck in your job.”

  “I said that?” Nicole tried to remember how much she’d divulged at her nephew’s birthday party.

  “You sounded like you were looking for a change.”

  Nicole sighed, remembering how she’d been feeling a little envious of her older sister’s picture-perfect life last weekend. Oh, she knew Katy had her own challenges. But maintaining her career and raising three boys with a man she loved—sometimes it looked pretty good. “I was obviously kind of down that day, Mom. I didn’t mean to dump on you about—”

  “No, no, that’s not it. It’s just that I have something exciting to tell you, Nikki. And since you’re all done with classes today, why don’t you let me take you out for a cup of coffee.” She waved her hand like a fan. “Or maybe something icy. Good grief, it’s like a sauna in here. How can you stand it?”

  “With all these windows, it gets pretty stuffy in here. Especially this time of year. This building doesn’t have air conditioning.” Nicole wondered why she was so defensive about her “sauna.”

  “It’s been unseasonably warm this week,” her mom offered.

  “Anyway, I’d be happy to escape for a while.” Nicole went over to the door that she’d propped open with a heavy clay pot and let it close. “Hopefully it’ll cool down some after the sun goes behind those trees. But I need to come back here when we’re done. I have to fire up the kiln.” She pointed to the pottery lined up on the counter. “I need to get those fired before the end of the week. I’ve been trying to run it at night because of the heat.”

  “My poor girl,” Caroline said with sympathy. “They’ve got you working in an honest-to-goodness sweatshop here.”

  Nicole laughed as she went for her bag. “A lot of people would love to have my job,” she called from her office. “One more year until tenure.” Even as she said this, she wasn’t certain she cared. Was tenure about job security or getting stuck in a job she didn’t really love? What was the point? She locked her office and hurried back out, curious as to what her mother had to tell her.

  “My old friend Vivian Graham called me today, and we had a very interesting conversation.” Caroline’s brows arched mysteriously.

  “That is somehow related to me?” Nicole couldn’t quite imagine this as she held the door to Starbucks open for her mom.

  “Well, as it turns out, it just might. You see,” Caroline continued as they stepped into the short line, “Vivian and Bruce are celebrating their fortieth anniversary this summer by taking a world cruise. Can you imagine three months of being pampered on a luxurious ship that goes all around the world?” She sighed. “But then, they’re rich.”

  As they picked up their iced mochas, Caroline continued to rattle on about how “fortunate” Vivian and Bruce were, but after they were seated, Nicole held up her hand like a stop sign. “Okay, Mom, can you please get to the part about why this involves me? I’ve had a long day and an even longer school year, and my brain is starting to get a little fuzzy.”

  Caroline made a sly-looking smile. “Well . . . do you recall that Vivian owns a gallery in Savannah?”

  Nicole tipped her head to one side. “That kind of rings a bell. Didn’t we look at a vacant building when we were in Savannah that last time? Vivian was talking about getting it for an investment?”

  “Yes. That’s right. Vivian bought the building. A few years later she opened an art gallery—I guess it was about a dozen years ago. The Graham Gallery, she said it’s called. It took a while for it to catch hold, and then there was the recession. But appa
rently it’s fairly well established now. I guess it’s been kind of like her baby—even more so after her boys were grown and all. It actually sounds rather nice.”

  “Uh-huh.” Nicole tried to imagine this as she sipped her iced mocha.

  “While Viv was telling me all about her gallery and these art exhibits she has lined up for the upcoming summer, complaining about how hard it would be to leave it all behind to go off on her fabulous world cruise”—Caroline rolled her eyes, then laughed—“well, anyway, I got this brilliant idea.”

  “Yes?” Despite her weariness, Nicole felt her curiosity piquing.

  “It was slightly miraculous how this idea occurred to me—almost like a divine inspiration.”

  “Seriously?” Nicole made a doubtful frown.

  Caroline nodded firmly. “Don’t be such a skeptic, Nikki. It’s entirely possible that God gave me this idea. Anyway, I suddenly realized that you, my dear, were exactly what Vivian needs.”

  “What she needs?”

  “To manage her gallery.”

  Melody Carlson is the award-winning author of over two hundred books, including The Christmas Joy Ride and Once Upon a Summertime. Melody has received a Romantic Times Career Achievement Award in the inspirational market for her books. She and her husband live in central Oregon. For more information about Melody, visit her website at www.melodycarlson.com.

  Other Books by Melody Carlson

  FOLLOW YOUR HEART SERIES

  Once Upon a Summertime

  All Summer Long

  HOLIDAY NOVELLAS

  Christmas at Harrington’s

  The Christmas Bus

  The Christmas Shoppe

  The Joy of Christmas

  The Treasure of Christmas

  The Christmas Pony

  A Simple Christmas Wish

  The Christmas Cat

  The Christmas Joy Ride