“Really? What will the call be about?” Wyatt heard Keeli’s excitement even with her head half buried under the bed searching for her shoes.
“Let me at least fix you toast and I will tell you,” he negotiated.
“Okay, but only if you have peanut butter.”
“Really? I had no idea you were a peanut butter girl. We are in luck because I can indeed feed you peanut butter toast.” Wyatt was mocking her so she attempted to swat him with her towel. He sidestepped her efforts easily and headed down the long corridor, his laughter trailing behind him. True to his word, within two minutes he had bakery bread toasting and a jar of chunky peanut butter sitting on the counter.
A second cup of tea and warm peanut butter oozing over her fingers, Keeli listened attentively as Wyatt explained today’s call. He would be discussing financing requirements based on the five-year business plan he sent his investors for review. It sounded complicated to Keeli, but she understood the basics from her own entrepreneurial efforts, and followed along as best she could.
She asked insightful questions, leading him to ask her where she got her financing.
“Oh no, there is no financing. I refuse to be beholden to anyone. I put aside enough money to buy supplies and support myself for six months before I left my job. I am determined to do this entirely on my own.”
“But that’s crazy, Keeli,” Wyatt chided. “You must have learned about shared risk in school? And what about money for expansion? It is ridiculous to refuse funding.”
“Do not call me ridiculous,” Keeli responded defensively. “I really want to prove to my family that I can do this on my own. They were such skeptics, so unsupportive. It’s important that I prove myself to them, and to me.”
Wyatt was empathetic, especially about proving yourself to your family. It was something they had in common and it led to a conversation again about his feelings of disloyalty and fear of discovery. She remembered how hard it was to stand up to her mother, how her brothers had encouraged her to guilt about leaving Gilman. Wyatt made it sound as if he would be killing his parents and siblings.
“Okay, I may not understand the generational expectations of a rich family like yours,” she finally admitted after going back and forth about it a few minutes. “But I do understand how hard it is to do something they think you shouldn’t do. I really get it, Wyatt. But family tradition be damned, you have to decide how much you want this, don’t you? You have to choose.”
“Independence be damned then too, Keeli. You could ask for help, get investors for your business too.”
“That’s different.” Even as the words left her mouth, she knew it was no different. They were both choosing to go against what they were comfortable with in order to succeed on their own terms. She conceded his point.
“Did I mention, I love being right?” he skillfully lightened the mood.
As soon as she swallowed the last bite of toast, Keeli was on her feet, reluctantly offering to get going. Wyatt had shifted from boyfriend to businessman in front of her eyes, checking the time and his incoming text messages frequently. She could tell he needed to get his day started.
While Wyatt reached for his briefcase and keys, Keeli ran to retrieve her toothbrush and run a comb through her wild curls one last time before they dried. Emerging from the bathroom, she walked right into Wyatt’s open arms. Keeli was relieved to have a moment of romance before parting ways. She wanted to hold onto this feeling for as long as she could.
“I’m going to miss you this weekend. Funny how quickly I have gotten used to having you around,” she confessed.
What are you doing, idiot. No possessiveness. It’s just fun for him, remember?
You cannot say stuff like that.
“Me too. We’ll have to do something about that.”
Oooh. Or maybe you can.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Clarice and Keeli had been inching forward in the crowd of vans and U-hauls for more than an hour, the sun beating relentlessly into Clarice’s Chevy van, taxing the air conditioning beyond its capacity. Fearing that the car would overheat, they had sweated without the engine for fifteen-minute intervals twice already and there were still eight vehicles ahead of them waiting to unload before they could move into position. This was the part of street fairs that both women hated the most and they had been whining non-stop since entering the end of the line.
“So, enough whining, we sound pitiful,” Clarice admonished in her no-nonsense way. “Tell me something cheerful. How’s your love life? You have been pretty quiet on that front all day. Any recent sightings of the wealthy and wonderful Wyatt?”
A blush moved up Keeli’s cheeks adding color that had nothing to do with the sun. Clarice, always observant, pounced instantly.
“We have been in this car for more than two hours and you didn’t think to mention this to me? Spill, girl. Now!”
“We have been on a few dates. Clarice, I like him.”
“You like him? That is all you are giving me? I thought we were friends.”
“OK, I really, really like him. Is that better? I am afraid to jinx things by saying too much.”
“And the dates?” Clarice pumped her for information.
“Well, I told you about him stopping to buy me coffee a couple weeks ago, and going out for drinks. Last week I went to see him play hockey and Wednesday we got together again.”
“And…”
Keeli knew that Clarice would keep at her until she shared everything. “And, I stayed over at his place Wednesday night.”
“WHAT? Do not leave me hangin’ here, Keeli. I mean it.” She inched the car forward, “We are stuck in this line at least fifteen more minutes, so you better start talking.”
Keeli gave Clarice an overview of the dates, describing Wyatt’s friends, his apartment, his bathroom, avoiding details of their conversations and sex. Clarice kept questioning Keeli, trying to get more information until the two were laughing and joking about it.
“Girl, I suspect that what you are not telling me is way more interesting than what you are telling me. However, if you want to keep it private, I can respect that, not! Come on Keeli, give me something.”
Keeli was saved from providing details as the women finally reach the front of the unloading dock. They worked well together, rapidly emptying the van of display cases, banners and sculptures as well as two pad-locked cases of jewelry and the dollies for moving it all. Keeli would stay with these while Clarice searched for the closest thing to shade in the exhibitor parking lot.
The exhibition actually opened at 10:00 this morning, but Keeli and Clarice agreed that they would take their chances setting up on Friday instead of Thursday, hoping for smaller set up crowds. Despite the long wait, their plan had actually succeeded, shaving a couple hours from their usual wait to unload their goods. The downside was that now it took Clarice a long time to return. Spaces in the exhibitor lot were scarce and she had to return from quite a distance.
The two women were pros by now at piling the materials and moving them into the booths. They carefully loaded Keeli’s gear under Clarice’s, stacking everything so that it was stable for rolling the hand trucks to their tents. This season Keeli was well positioned in the center of the long aisle of booths. Being near an opening to the sound stages and food, she would be right in the path of a lot of foot traffic. Unfortunately, the two women were not located near each other this weekend. Clarice’s booth was closer to the museum entrance, also a prime space, but all the way at the other end of the long exhibition tent.
The two wished each other well with a hug and waved as they separated to tackle the hard work of set up. Keeli had her display cases put together in moments, their wrap stored out of her way in the trunks behind the booth. She hung the black velvet boards on the wall, her banner behind them and set up the lighting to shine precisely. Then she began the critical task of placing her jewelry just so, adjusting the lighting, rearranging pieces, adjusting lighting again until she was
completely satisfied.
Content at last, she grabbed Flaubert’s “Madame Bovary” from her bag and gratefully sank into her director’s chair. She had placed the chair in the aisle today, not hidden in the booth. She was alongside fellow artists if she wanted to chat, with a perfect view of her booth and the traffic from both directions.
It was almost noon and Keeli was anxious to make a few sales. The crowds were swelling and adrenaline was pumping through her veins. The Milwaukee Lakefront Festival of Art was an impressive show, connected to the award winning Art Museum with its winged roof, gorgeous gardens, modern fountains and spectacular lakefront setting. It attracted local crowds but also the wealthy Chicago suburban crowd she was desperate to reach.
The judging was known to be tough for this show, so attendees knew they were seeing the finest artists from all over the country. Completely enclosed, the artists were protected under a long white tent with additional space in the museum. There were two music venues to attract additional crowds from the street or the lakefront trails, assuring high attendance.
The energy in both the artists and the crowd was palpable and the afternoon flew by in a blur of activity. When Clarice wandered by close to 4:00, Keeli was able to report that she doing well, steadily moving smaller items as well as a few more expensive designs. Clarice had a tougher audience but she had sold several garden sculptures already, so both women were pleased.
“We are here until 10 tonight,” Keeli reminded Clarice as they started planning for a dinner break. They agreed to delay dinner until just before six, when the afternoon crowds would diminish but before the evening crowd swelled. Each woman brought a sandwich that they devoured hours ago, so Clarice was thrilled when Keeli shared a fruit salad from Theo as a late afternoon snack. Inhaling the food quickly, both returned to their posts.
At six, the women were hot, sweaty, tired but happy with their first day’s sales. They headed to the food area for some dinner. Clarice was buoyed by the honorable mention ribbon that the judges had attached to her booth an hour ago. She kept reliving the moment for Keeli, her pride evident. Keeli was overjoyed for her friend and telling her so for the umpteenth time when a deep voice sounded from over her shoulder.
“Ladies, I thought I would never find you. But here you are, of course, stuffing your lovely faces.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
For a heartbeat, Keeli was certain she had conjured up the elegant man now standing in front of her. His hair was curling slightly along his perfectly pressed collar. Several buttons at the top of his shirt were unbuttoned, exposing the strong column of his neck. His suit jacket was long gone.
“What are you doing here?” She was sputtering and sitting paralyzed when Wyatt scooped her from the plastic lawn chair and folded her into his embrace. She recognized the aroma of his expensive shampoo faintly clinging to his hair as he tilted his head lower to give her a chaste kiss on the cheek.
“I had to check on my girls,” he announced casually, as if he did not just drive through at least two hours of rush hour traffic to be here. He squeezed Clarice’s hand in greeting,
“Don’t get up,” he told her. “I imagine you must be tired.”
“We are - tired but happy,” Clarice confirmed, shifting in her seat to give Keeli a sly glance from under her lids.
“Seriously, Wyatt, what are you doing here?” Keeli was growing insistent. “I thought we agreed you were too busy to get away.”
“We agreed I could not set up or stay until Sunday, but we never agreed I would not be here at all. How could I miss my favorite show of the summer?
“Well, when you put it like that…so you came for the show, not for me?” Keeli was shamelessly flirting, surprising both herself and Clarice. Keeli never flirted.
“For the show, of course. But... since I am here anyway…” Laughing, the three settled in for a short break together, the women eating fast food meals, Wyatt sipping a Wisconsin microbrew. He was comfortably talking about sculpture with Clarice like they were old friends, idly stroking Keeli’s bare arms with his fingertips. Too soon the women needed to return to their booths.
After giving Clarice a tight hug, Wyatt lagged behind Keeli who had moved back toward her booth. She was easy to follow despite the growing crowds, dressed in her usual bright colored sundress and Keds, hair flaming in the waning sunlight.
“Do you mind my being here,” Wyatt caught up to her and fidgeted awaiting Keeli’s answer.
“Of course not. I am thrilled. I was just surprised.” Their eyes met, Wyatt’s lips lifting in a sexy, lazy grin. He was running his fingers up and down the creamy skin of her upper arm, the rays of the sun still warm on it. The sexual tension grew between them quickly so that Keeli could not look away.
“I hope you won’t object, but I thought Clarice might want that Motel 6 room to herself tonight. I got a room for us.” Wyatt’s husky voice signaled he was having the same response she was.
“Hmmm, I might mind. I was looking forward to all that luxury.” She was teasing him comfortably, falling in step with his mood. She saw that he too was comfortable with the ribbing, was in fact enjoying it.
“I got us a suite at The Pfister,” Wyatt casually mentioned the name of a century old luxury hotel in the heart of the city. Keeli had never even been to their bar for a drink, always too underdressed when she worked the festival.
“The Pfister? A suite?” She was overwhelmed, looking at Wyatt with wide eyes trying to regain her composure with a tiny laugh. “I might be able to handle that.”
Wyatt broke into an enormous grin, knowing he had blown her away with both his arrival and the promise of a night in the opulent hotel. “We can invite Clarice over for breakfast in the morning, before you head back to work. Okay?”
“Yeah, sure, okay,” Keeli remained stunned until Wyatt swooped down and gave her a hard, swift kiss. “Back to work for you,” he swatted her on the behind. “I’m going exploring and will be back before ten.”
Before the kiss or the words registered, he was gone; she fell into the director’s chair with a thump, as if the last thirty minutes were a figment of her imagination. She had to work, to come down from this dazed high, let go of the heat scorching her from the inside out and return to her professional demeanor.
Get it together. You have a job to do. At that moment several people entered her tent. Keeli jumped up to assist, leaving her sensuous fog behind.
Back in her stride, the evening flew by in a whirlwind of activity for Keeli. She was selling rings and bracelets in large numbers. Earrings and necklaces were moving more slowly but still selling well. She kept a running tally of sales in her head, excited to realize she had sold enough to place an order for new gemstones. Her mind was wandering to pictures of new work, a new collection forming in her mind that she believed she could complete before summer’s end.
What a week! Two stores are interested; Missy reached out, now this. Wyatt must be bringing me luck – among other things.
Around 9:30, Wyatt returned with a bottle of water for her in one hand, her small overnight bag in the other. Before she can ask, he explained “I met up with Clarice and retrieved this, along with her promise to meet us for breakfast at 8 am sharp.
“Has it been going well? I heard some great music and saw a modern art exhibit in the museum that you just have to see. Maybe we can go on a break tomorrow and see it together? They have a huge Lichtenstein and an Andy Warhol near each other. The colors of one set off the other perfectly. You just have to see it,” he gushed with enthusiasm.
The crowds had thinned by now, mostly moving to the music stages and beer vendors outside as the tents shut down for the night, guards moving conspicuously into position. Keeli turned off her lights, locked a few very high-end pieces into the trunk, locked the remainder into the cases and tied down the flaps of her booth.
Wyatt, helping where he could, checked the locks on everything twice, sliding her chair across the dusty floor into the dark booth before taking
her overnight bag and oversized hobo and settling both on his shoulder. Holding hands and walking close together they moved as one toward the parking garage. It was a beautiful night. Bright city lights prevented them from seeing many stars, but Keeli reflexively turned her face to the sky when they emerged from the tent.
“Stargazing?
“Can’t help it. On the farm, at this time of night, the sky is amazing. You can see a million stars. I always forget how bright it is in the city. I always forget.” She repeated wistfully.
“Missing the farm?”
“Sometimes. I miss my brothers, for sure. And the peace and quiet.”
“You never talk about your parents,” Wyatt probed gently. “Just your brothers.”
“My dad died when I was thirteen. He had cancer. It was pretty awful, but quick. I think we felt like we had just enough time to say good-bye and poof, he was gone. My mom never got over it. She was still young, you know? Anyway, it just made my mom cling to us tighter. She was not a big fan of my moving away, to say the least.”
“But she can see your talent. She must?”
“If she does, Wyatt, she sure isn’t saying so. I told you, she has been critical of my choice to leave since the day I made it. It is torture calling home. She loves to plant doubt in my brain. She thrives on undermining my confidence.”
“But why, what is the point in that?”
“Wyatt, think about your own situation. She wants me to toe her line. And her line is coming home ‘where I belong’ instead of struggling in Chicago. That is one of the reasons I can’t ask for help. It would just be another reason to say, ‘I told you so.’ She tells me that there is too much competition, that I don’t have what it takes. Oh yeah, she is a joy to talk with.”
Bedazzled (The Beguiling Bachelors Book 1) Page 22