Right Here, Right Now

by Georgia Beers

  “Sorry about that,” Gisele said, as she appeared in the doorway holding Leo. My little terrier mix was looking far too pleased with himself. “Mr. Leonardo is just so much fun!” He licked her nose.

  “He does love to play ball,” Mary said, as Gisele set Leo on the floor. He marched right back into my office.

  “I guess he’s done with me,” Gisele said, still smiling widely. “Thanks for letting us borrow him.”

  I gave a nod, hoping that meant the soccer game was over, but such was not the case. It simply moved into the office next door where cheers, clapping, and the occasional ball cracking against the wall served as my soundtrack for the next half hour. I even heard Alicia shout, “Foul,” once or twice, and I found myself losing focus on my work so I could listen. A small part of me felt the urge to go join in.

  The arrival of my first client put an end to that, and I did my best to tune my neighbors out. But the third time, she flinched in her chair when the ball hit the wall, and I knew I needed to put a stop to it, even though I dreaded having to be the party pooper yet again.

  I excused myself for a minute and scooted quickly next door. They’d pushed the desks and tables to the walls so that the center of the office was wide open enough to serve as their playing field. When Alicia finally noticed me, she shot me one of her gorgeous smiles and I had a flash of her on the other side of the table last night, asking me a question and then focusing all her attention on me as I answered. My belly fluttered and I had to bite down on my lips to keep the wide grin from spreading across my face. I waved her over to me and she trotted—I swear she did—right to me.

  “Hey,” she said, and I noticed she was slightly out of breath. “Too loud?”

  I squinched up my nose. “A little, yeah,” I said quietly. “It’s just…startling my client when the ball hits the wall.”

  “No problem. We’ll ease up. Sorry about that.” She winked at me, and since her back was to the others, I’m the only one who saw it. I claimed it as my own.

  “Thanks. I’m sorry to be the Fun Killer.”

  Alicia shook her head, her waves bouncing. “Hey, it got you over here, didn’t it?” When I squinted at her, she leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, “Incentive.” With that, she gave my upper arm a squeeze and went back to the makeshift soccer field. “Okay, guys, we need to call this game for now.” I heard a few groans, but she held up a hand. “Nope. This is an office building. We’ll pick things up after hours.”

  She turned back to me and I gave her a little wave before heading back to my office and Mrs. Gates. That had gone way better than expected.

  I had a couple of breaks in my schedule over the next few days. Luckily, while there were people who waited until the last minute to file their taxes, most people didn’t. So even though I was pretty busy with panicked, oh-my-God-is-it-April-already clients, my appointment calendar also began to ease ever so slightly. That Friday, I had a three-hour block from one o’clock until after four where I was completely clear, and I was so happy about it, I caught myself giggling quietly more than once, Leo looking up at me from his bed like I’d possibly lost my mind.

  My 12:30 client had left, and I was just settling into my comfy desk chair ready to knock off some work when I looked up to see Alicia standing in my doorway. She was wearing a bright yellow spring jacket that would’ve made me look like a walking lemon but made her look like summer sunshine, and her smile was radiant. Everything about her was warm and inviting.

  “Come on,” she said to me, and crossed my office to the small rack where my jacket hung, its earthy green color seemed so bland next to hers.

  I blinked at her. “What?”

  “I said, come on. You’ve got no clients for three hours. I checked. You’re coming with me.”

  “I am?” I blinked some more, thoroughly confused, and I actually stood up and let her put one arm into my jacket sleeve before reason kicked in and I stopped her. “Wait. What are you doing? I can’t leave.”

  “Sure you can. You’re the boss.” Alicia held my jacket so I could put my other arm in, which I did sort of automatically. “We’ve both been working too hard. We need a break. So we’re taking one. Nothing wrong with that.”

  “But…” I looked down at my desk with what I was sure were fairly panicked eyes. I pointed at the papers scattered across it. “I have so much work—”

  “And it will still be there when we get back. I need to decompress, and I think you do, too.” Alicia slid her hand down my arm and grasped my hand. “Come on. Mary will watch Leonardo DiCaprio.” Leo was watching from his bed as if he knew exactly what Alicia was saying, because he made no attempt to follow us. Alicia tugged me through the reception area. “I’ll have her back by three,” she said to Mary, who winked. Winked! Mary doesn’t wink.

  I was buckled into the passenger seat of Alicia’s light blue BMW before I even realized it, my head still spinning. If I hadn’t been tired, my protests might have been heartier. As it was, it seemed the best I could do was blink in bewilderment. “What is happening?” I finally asked.

  Alicia steered us out of the parking lot and into the flow of traffic. “We’ve both been working like crazy,” she said, her eyes on the road. “Too much, really. It’s not good for either of us. When I feel like I’m all clogged up from too much work and not enough relaxation, I have a place I go and it helps me to just…” She seemed to take a moment looking for the right description before continuing with, “Breathe. It helps me to just breathe.” She glanced at me then, and there was a combination on her face that I couldn’t quite decipher. Tenderness. Worry. Hesitation. Turning back to the windshield, she said quietly, “I thought maybe you needed to breathe, too.”

  “I have so much to do,” I said, as it was first and foremost in my mind. “April is crazy for me.”

  “All the more reason to give yourself a break. I promise it won’t take long, and I also promise it will be worth it.” She glanced at me. “Incentive.”

  While I was pretty sure I should be panicky and cranky—and in most cases, I would be—there was something about Alicia, some kind of pull. I protested, sure. But, in reality, I was happier than I cared to admit to be sitting in that seat next to her, zipping along on a gorgeous, sunny day.

  It was so disconcertingly…not me.

  We pulled into the lot of the Philadelphia Museum of Art—which simultaneously surprised me and didn’t—and parked. The day was gorgeous, almost warm, sunny, and bright, the tan stone of the enormous, U-shaped building bouncing the rays back cheerfully. Tourists meandered everywhere and a short line of people stood waiting to have their picture taken with the larger-than-life statue of Rocky Balboa from the movies. It was the thing to do when you visited Philly, and even though I would normally roll my eyes at the predictability, I didn’t. Instead, I found myself smiling as I walked past a young boy who had his arms thrown up over his head just like Rocky’s were.

  Inside, the museum was fairly populated, people milling around, on their phones, waiting for others, sitting to rest their feet. I allowed Alicia to lead me to the admissions area where she showed a membership card, then paid my twenty-dollar entrance fee before I could protest.

  “It’s fine,” she said, holding up her hand, traffic cop style. “I dragged you here. The least I can do is pay.” Again, she grasped my hand, and I tried not to focus on how much I enjoyed the way hers felt in mine. Warm and soft. Firm grip. The way her thumb rubbed over my knuckle. “There’s an American Watercolor exhibit I’d like to see. That okay with you?”

  “Confession: I don’t know the first thing about art.” I shrugged and half grimaced.

  “I really don’t either,” she said as we followed the signs. “But there’s something about watercolor that I find…I don’t know. Calming? I don’t know what it is. I like all kinds of art, all different mediums, but watercolors are my favorite.”

  I wished I had something to add, but instead I nodded and followed her obediently, looking forward to se
eing something that seemed to move her, and putting the giant pile of work I’d left behind right out of my head for the time being.

  The museum is huge, with more than three-quarters of a million people going through it each year, so it took us a while to find the first-floor exhibit. It was being shown for a limited time, so many people were strolling through, stopping in front of each painting. The signage told me it was “American Watercolor in the Age of Homer and Sargent,” which meant absolutely nothing to me. But I figured that didn’t mean I couldn’t look. I can like art. I can appreciate talent.

  I followed Alicia as she stopped in front of the first painting, which depicted a sailboat in rough waters. She tilted her head from one side to the other, studying.

  “The colors are so serene,” she said quietly. “Yet the subject is tense. I feel the tension of the sailors.”

  I nodded. She was right. While the shades of blue in the ocean were light and easy, the choppiness of the water made me nervous. We stood for a few moments, then moved on to the next painting.

  I took the opportunity to look around, to observe the other patrons in the exhibit. Some stayed for only a moment or two in front of each piece, moving along fairly quickly. Some actually sat and stared for long periods of time. One man sat on a padded bench in front of a painting, an open sketchbook in his lap, his pencil making quiet scratching noises as he worked.

  “I do that sometimes,” Alicia whispered, her lips alarmingly close to my ear.

  “Sketch?”

  “No, but I can sit for a long time and just stare at a painting.”

  “Really?” I couldn’t imagine it. I was sure it would only take a moment before my brain would drift off to all the other things I could be getting done as I sat and stared at a framed picture hanging on a wall.

  She nodded and gave me that gentle smile as we moved on to the next painting.

  We did this for the next four paintings. Moving. Stopping. Looking. Making a couple of comments. I was surprised how much I was enjoying myself. And Alicia had been right; I realized I felt much calmer than I had when we’d arrived.

  We moved on to the next painting, titled The Trysting Place. It showed a woman in a long, flowing white dress embroidered with small blue flowers. She stood near a tree in the woods, the background of soft greens and browns, and I could almost hear the birdsong that must have surrounded her, the rustling of leaves in a gentle summer breeze. In her hand, a fan of red and white partially obscured her face, her chestnut hair pulled back in a chignon. She was expecting somebody, both the title of the painting and the expression on her face told me so.

  As if reading my mind, Alicia whispered, “I wonder who she’s waiting for.”

  A smile tugged one corner of my mouth up. “A boyfriend maybe?”

  “A girlfriend?” Alicia raised her eyebrows when I looked at her. “This was painted in, what?” She squinted at the information. “Eighteen seventy-five. She’d definitely have to have a secret tryst to see a woman.”

  “I like that,” I said, with a determined nod. “I’m going with that.”

  “Me too. I mean, look at her face. She’s got both anticipation and worry going on. She’s excited and also a little terrified.”

  “Then she’s definitely waiting for a girl.”

  Alicia chuckled as she stood close to me; I could feel her body heat. I could smell the peaches-and-cream scent of her (Soap? Shampoo? Lotion?). Her fingertips lightly brushed the small of my back, the move gentle, yet slightly possessive. I liked it.

  There were nine paintings altogether, so it didn’t take long to see each of them, but we went around the room again. I was glad for that, as I wasn’t quite ready to leave yet, the stack of work on my desk fading, finally, into the background in my mind as I let myself be calmed by the simple beauty of artwork. On our second pass, we noticed things in each painting that we hadn’t the first time through, and we discussed each detail in quiet whispers, our heads tipped toward each other. Being so close to Alicia, feeling her breath on my face, seeing the tiny black flecks in the blue of her eyes, noticing the perfect arch of her auburn eyebrows…it was intoxicating. I felt a tingle in my thighs, and I tried to ignore it, as it was a sure sign of my arousal, and I wasn’t ready to deal with that quite yet.

  All told, we stayed for a little over an hour, wandering from painting to painting, letting the mood of each flow over us.

  “What did you think?” Alicia asked on our way back to the car. Her tone contained a slight edge of…what was it? Trepidation? As though she was waiting for either my approval or my condemnation.

  “I loved it,” I said with a big grin, letting her off the hook. “Like I said, I don’t know a thing about art, but…I’ve also never really studied paintings like that before.”

  “No?”

  I shook my head. “Not like that, no. The way each one evoked a particular mood or feeling? It was amazing.”

  The smile that broke across Alicia’s face just then made me want to find more things like that to say, just to keep her wearing that expression. She was radiantly beautiful. “And how do you feel now?”

  I nodded. “You were right. I can admit that. I feel calm. Relaxed. Ready to get back to work and not at all stressed about it.”

  Alicia gave one nod of her head. “Excellent. My work here is done.”

  Once in the car and buckled into our seats, I reached over to lay a hand on her arm. I hesitated for just a split second—at that point, I was aware that any sort of touching of Alicia sent a zap of electricity through me—but I don’t think she noticed. When her eyes locked with mine, I said simply, “Thank you.”

  I was pretty sure I saw a slight pinkening of her cheeks as she responded, “You’re welcome.”

  I was back in my office by three, as promised, Mary giving me a knowing look as I entered. Leo was sitting in her lap, watching diligently as she pulled a chip from a pile in a container on her desk.

  “Are those nachos?” I asked.

  Mary nodded as she chewed. “They got Mexican next door.”

  I helped myself to one, then shook my head and pointed at her. “Don’t give him any.” Leo turned to look at me and I noticed a small glob of orange on his chin. Cheese. I shook my head again and went into my office.

  The calm had been nice, that was for sure, and despite the work I now had in front of me, a big part of me was thankful for it. The more time I spent with Alicia, the more time I wanted to spend with her. I turned to gaze out my window, the sun still shining brightly, and it occurred to me that even though I’d had several occasions of time spent with her, I knew next to nothing about Alicia’s personal life. She was very good at asking me questions and getting me talking, and I wondered if that was intentional.

  Before I could analyze further, Mary intercommed me and sent a call through. With a sigh, I got to work, but a small part of me wondered when Alicia would show up again to spirit me away. Soon, I hoped.

  Chapter Eight

  I was in my office all day on Saturday. I had a lot to get done and three client meetings, so Leo and I were settled in, with coffee and a bagel I’d grabbed on the way, by nine. My first client was at eleven, and I worked diligently for two hours, part of my consciousness tuned to the office next door. I was surprised to hear no activity at all leaching through my wall.

  The day went fairly quickly, and for that, I was grateful. I was having dinner that night with Leanne and a couple friends, and I was looking forward to it more than I realized. Leanne knows me well and tended to schedule such gatherings purposely to get me out into the land of the living, breathing people who did other things besides work.

  My last client left me at 4:45, and I worked for another half hour before packing up my things and Leo and locking up the office. I couldn’t help it; I wandered down the hallway and was surprised to find the space behind the Just Wright door dark. I was fairly certain it was the first Saturday since they’d moved in that nobody worked, and I tried—unsuccessfully—not to
notice the disappointment I felt at Alicia’s absence. Saturday or no Saturday, I’d hoped she was there.

  “Oh, well,” I said out loud with a shrug. “Come on, Leo. Let’s get you some dinner.”

  At home, I filled Leo’s dish, topped it with a sprinkle of Parmesan cheese (God, he was spoiled), and headed up to my bedroom to decide what to wear to dinner. I wasn’t sure who else might be there besides Leanne and her friends, Martha and Lori, but I knew the restaurant. Angelica was contemporary Italian; some people showed up in jeans, others in evening wear. I could pretty much choose whatever I wanted.

  I tended to dress more business than casual at work (a throwback from working with my old-fashioned father) and there were times when a pair of jeans was the only thing I wanted to put on. I’d ordered myself a new pair of very dark jeans a few weeks ago and had yet to wear them. I knew I could dress them up enough to wear to Angelica and not feel self-consciously casual. I paired them with a flowing white top and a lightweight scarf in a variety of greens. Slight heels helped with the “dressing up” aspect, and I donned some dangling silver earrings to top it off. With a nod of approval to the mirror, I spritzed on a body spray softly scented with vanilla and honey and headed downstairs.

  Angelica was located in Olde City, which was a hopping neighborhood on a Saturday night, a blend of natives and tourists enjoying the early spring weather, wandering from Independence Mall and the Liberty Bell to restaurants or bars or clubs. Leanne, Martha, and Lori were all crowded around the bar when I arrived, and there was another woman with them, a tall brunette with large, dark eyes and the broad shoulders of a swimmer. Leanne saw me first and motioned to the bartender to get me a glass of white wine. As always, her brown eyes were smiling—Leanne was one of those people who put the group at ease with her laid-back attitude and approachable demeanor. She wrapped an arm around my shoulders and turned me to the rest of her crew.