Where Dreams Begin

by Phoebe Conn

  “Really? And just how large is this sign?” Catherine inquired.

  Toby gestured. “Not big. It’s about the size of a realtor’s for sale sign. Let’s just call the paint store our first corporate sponsor and hope to attract others.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Dave looked up from his work and winked. “Lost Angel sure needs the money.”

  “I know it does,” Catherine answered, “but that doesn’t mean we ought to have product endorsements all over Toby’s lawn. They’ll only distract from the beauty of the mural.”

  “You are so damn cute,” Toby said. “Do you ever stop worrying long enough to have fun?”

  “I saw her first!” Dave shouted. “When she’s ready for fun, I’m her man.”

  The kids found that exchange hilarious, but Catherine certainly didn’t. She’d been sure Pam would have told Dave that she and Luke were dating, but apparently, Dave hadn’t a clue. It was even more disappointing that Luke hadn’t confided in Dave. She looked down at the patchy lawn to focus her thoughts and then up at the ornately decorated Victorian home.

  “I expect painting the mural to be lots of fun,” she interjected, “but we need to buy the supplies. Now where’s that store, Toby?”

  “Hang on, sweetheart, it’s only a couple of blocks away. I’ll give you the address.”

  She wasn’t his sweetheart and never would be, but she bit her tongue rather than provide another belly laugh for the teens.

  Luke forced himself to concentrate on the center’s budget until well past eleven o’clock, but he couldn’t put off seeing Catherine a minute longer. He crossed the street to Toby’s house, then had to mask his disappointment when Dave reported that she’d gone shopping with Toby.

  “They should be back any minute,” Dave explained. He wiped his forehead on his sleeve and then gestured with his clippers. “I hope you don’t mind if I split my time between here and the center. I’m sure I can get everything done, and we really ought to dress up the yard here to frame our mural.”

  Luke jammed his hands in his hip pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Go ahead and help out all you can here. If you’re needed at the center, we’ll know where to find you. Besides, Mrs. Brooks will probably appreciate your help with supervision.”

  The kids were back at Lost Angel searching the clothes lockers, so Dave and Luke had the front yard to themselves, but Dave still took the precaution of lowering his voice. “I’ll do all I can to help Cathy, and I’m sure you know how I’d like to be repaid.”

  Luke instantly grasped Dave’s meaning, and he had to swallow hard to find his voice. “It would be better to keep your relationship strictly professional,” he advised.

  Dave responded with a derisive snort. “That will be a challenge with Toby drooling all over Cathy.”

  Luke had already known he’d have to keep an eye on Toby. “I’ll have the contract ready for his signature this afternoon, and I’ll speak to him then. I don’t want anyone spoiling the mural project for Mrs. Brooks, least of all him.”

  “Yeah, I understand what you mean, but I really like Cathy, and I think she likes me too. I’m getting myself together, and I’ll go back out into the real world soon. The economy may have changed, but I can still be a success, and Cathy provides a hell of an incentive. I just don’t need any competition from a guy who looks like a rock star.”

  Luke couldn’t encourage Dave in what he sincerely hoped was a losing proposition. Neither could he admit how close he and Catherine had become when Dave would angrily demand to know what his intentions were.

  Unfortunately, intentions required a belief in the future, and Luke had lost all hope for anything more than what he could see or touch in a single day. That meant he had no intentions other than to make love to Catherine as often as he possibly could. That dark realization forced him into a bitter silence, and all he could offer Dave was a perfunctory nod.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Luke was seated on the Victorian’s porch when Catherine drove up and parked on the adjacent side street. As he and Dave approached her Volvo, Dave was grinning happily, but Luke wore a preoccupied frown. By the time she’d left her car to open the rear door, however, his expression had cleared.

  Her initial glimpse of him had signaled something was amiss, but she hoped it had absolutely nothing to do with her and greeted both men with a smile. “Toby had already calculated how much paint we needed. I was very careful about what we bought. Rather than have custom colors mixed, we’re going to do it ourselves. That way we can return any unopened cans of paint.”

  “You needn’t worry so much about the cost,” Luke assured her. “The mural itself will generate new donations.”

  Catherine leaned close to whisper, “If not the expense, then what is worrying you?”

  With a quick warning frown, Luke shook off her question before Dave took note of their exchange.

  Dave had already pulled the canvas tarps out of the Volvo and hefted them over his shoulder. “You want these on the porch?”

  “Toby wants to store everything in his garage for the time being,” Catherine directed.

  Before the three of them had rounded the house, Toby drove his Chevy truck into the driveway. He jumped out of the cab and swung open the garage doors. He had been working on a giant cat sculpted from scrap metal and the head loomed eight feet above them.

  “I love it!” Catherine cried. “Do you find many buyers for such heroic cats?”

  “You’d be surprised by how many people want them. Let’s stack the paint cans and supplies along the wall, and the kids can tote them out front when they’re needed.”

  When they’d finished unloading the Chevy, Toby yanked over a battered wooden stool and sat down to speak with Luke. “Do you have any objection to Rafael mixing the colors? He has the best eye for subtle shadings I’ve ever seen.”

  “He’s the artist,” Luke replied, “but I doubt he knows much about mixing paint.”

  “Fortunately, I do. Once Rafael sketches in the figures, I’ll block out the whole mural as though it were a paint-by-numbers kit.”

  As Luke listened to Toby describe the steps he intended to take, his gaze followed Catherine as she circled the whimsical feline. Her whole expression glowed with delight, but that she might also admire the cat’s flamboyant creator increased Luke’s dislike for the artist tenfold.

  “It sounds as though you have a good game plan,” Luke said, eagerly edging toward the door, “but I want your name on our contract before the work begins. I’ll bring it over as soon as it arrives by messenger.”

  After Luke returned to Lost Angel, Catherine was left to contend with Toby and Dave, who were eyeing her much too appreciatively. She made a mental note to wear a less formfitting T-shirt the next day. The men helped her organize the painting supplies in the order they would be used, but if there were a chance to slide a hand across her shoulder, or brush close with their whole bodies, each made the most of it. At another time, she might have thought their antics amusing, but she was far too tense to be more than deeply irritated that day.

  She was relieved when she checked her watch. “It’s time for lunch, and I want to make certain the kids have the clothes they’ll need. I’ll see you later, Toby.”

  “I doubt there will be much to do today,” the sculptor complained, then his expression softened. “You come on back anyway, and I promise to keep you entertained.”

  Dave laughed at Toby’s suggestive invitation. “She’ll never be that desperate for entertainment. Come on, Cathy, I’ll walk you back to Lost Angel.”

  She debated a quick moment, then left her car parked beside the Victorian. “It’s another beautiful day,” she exclaimed as she and Dave crossed the street with the light. She hoped if she always kept their conversation focused on the mural or Lost Angel, he would eventually perceive her lack of interest.

  Dave swung the hedge clippers up to rest on his shoulder. “It sure is. I hope you won’t mind my saying this, but I think you ought t
o see if Toby actually delivers on a few of his endless boasts before you trust him with much.”

  “It is his house,” she pointed out.

  “Yeah, and he’ll remind us of that fact every chance he gets. Luke was smart to have a contract drawn up so there will be no misunderstandings. But then he is terrific with details. Of course, thinking is about all the guy does do.”

  Catherine knew without glancing up that Dave would be wearing his usual affable grin and hoping she would laugh right along with him. She wasn’t even tempted. “If I were you, I wouldn’t make fun of Luke. He could just as easily have nixed the mural project, but he’s been very supportive.”

  “You call doubting that Rafael did his own drawing being supportive?”

  She hesitated a moment but decided against revealing Luke’s reasons for appearing skeptical. “No, but generally, he has been very helpful. Did you have any time to work on the greeting cards?”

  “Sure, there isn’t much happening here on the weekends. Come on in the office, and I’ll show you.”

  Catherine needed to turn in the paint store credit card receipt to Pam and followed him. It was time for the secretary’s lunch break, and after accepting the receipt, Pam happily relinquished her seat at the computer and grabbed her purse.

  “Wait until you see what Dave has done,” Pam enthused. “Rather than use whole drawings, he selected the most meaningful part of each. The cards will be spectacular, and I bet all of our volunteers will want them for Christmas.

  “Our would-be painters chose some clothes, although I swear they made such awful choices, they’ll resemble clowns when they paint.”

  “I don’t care how they look. I just don’t want them to worry about ruining what few clothes they do own,” Catherine replied.

  “Well, don’t you worry another minute over that,” Pam advised. “We’ve got a mountain of clothes best used for painting, and I’ll see they get every stitch.”

  As soon as Pam had left the office, Dave laid his hedge clippers aside and slid into her chair. He quickly opened the mural file. “Rafael’s design will be the big seller, but take a look at these others and tell me what you think.”

  Catherine knew all the designs well enough to appreciate how skillfully Dave had cropped his photos to give the artwork the maximum impact. As he clicked through them, she was amazed. “You’ve improved them all,” she complimented sincerely. “Even Tina’s trash-sorting angel and winged cat look better with a tighter focus.”

  “Focus used to be one of my favorite words. It’s time I started using it again. Speaking of which, do you have a minute?”

  “Sure, what is it?” She crossed to one of the visitor chairs. She liked Dave but not in the way he liked her, and she didn’t want to give him any false hopes by remaining close while they talked.

  “I’ve still got a couple of my good suits, and with a little work on my résumé, I might actually get some interviews. Of course, I’ll have to cut my hair to pass for the corporate type again, but that’s a small price. What I’m trying to say is that I intend to win back everything I’ve lost. I may have wandered a while, but it won’t be much longer, and I’ll have my life back on track.”

  “I know you will. Although you’ll surely be missed here.”

  Before Dave could respond to her encouragement, Detectives Garcia and Salzman came through the door. That day Salzman was dressed in a tan suit and Garcia in navy blue, as though they had swapped outfits to double their wardrobe options. Salzman was carrying a lumpy black shoulder bag which looked as though it might contain hand grenades.

  Catherine immediately leapt to her feet and hurried to knock at Luke’s door. “The detectives are here,” she announced.

  Luke mouthed a most uncomplimentary term but immediately left his office to greet them. “How nice to see you again. Have you arrested a suspect?”

  “Not yet,” Garcia replied. “But we wanted you to know how popular red satin dresses and blond wigs have become among a certain element of our population.”

  “You’re kidding,” Luke scoffed.

  “I assure you we’re not,” Detective Salzman replied. “We heard you provide kids with clothes here. I don’t suppose you’ve noticed a run on red cocktail dresses?”

  “We don’t accept donations of party clothes, so if red dresses are now a trend, they aren’t from here. Try the Goodwill, Out of the Closet, or Salvation Army thrift shops.”

  “We intend to, but we thought you might have heard something,” Garcia pressed. His paisley tie in wines and blues was remarkably subdued compared to the golden brilliance of the one he’d worn on his previous visit.

  “I haven’t heard a peep,” Luke assured them. “How about you?”

  “No,” Salzman claimed with an exasperated sigh. “But we will. Even if it’s the Lady in Red’s dry cleaner, someone will talk soon.”

  “I’m surprised you’re so optimistic,” Dave commented from his seat behind the computer. “From what I read in the Times, more than fifty percent of the homicides in Los Angeles remain unsolved. So it stands to reason that a lot of people aren’t talking.”

  Neither detective had taken much notice of Dave, but obviously peeved at the lack of efficiency his comment implied, they turned toward him with the precision of synchronized swimmers.

  “That’s due in part to gang killings where the murderer didn’t know the victim,” Garcia emphasized. “Clearly, the Lady in Red targeted her victims.”

  “Excellent point,” Dave conceded. “I wish you good luck.”

  “We make our own luck,” Salzman insisted, her mouth drawn as tight as a drawstring bag. “Let’s keep in touch.” She led the way out the door, and with a disgusted grimace, Garcia followed.

  “Charming pair,” Dave noted. “Maybe I ought to consider a career in law enforcement. Do you suppose I’m too old to enter the police academy?”

  “Call them and ask,” Luke replied. “Now, this is Monday, and I don’t want to miss out on Mabel’s spaghetti. Let’s go have lunch.”

  Dave walked over to the hall with them robbing Catherine of the opportunity to speak with Luke privately, but she hoped he could suggest a diplomatic way to discourage Toby and Dave without alienating either one. As if that were her only worry, she mumbled under her breath, but the thought of facing a plate of spaghetti wasn’t welcome, either.

  To elude Dave, she slid into the last place at a table and sat directly across from Polly. “Did you find an extra pair of shoes? You won’t want to get paint on your purple hightops.”

  “Yeah, I thought of that and found some jogging shoes that look brand new. I guess somebody must have given up on jogging awfully quick. I picked up a baseball cap too. I sure don’t want to get paint on any of my good hats.”

  “No, of course not.” Catherine twirled her spaghetti on her fork but guided none to her mouth.

  “I’m glad you’re working on the mural,” Polly offered softly. “All the volunteers here are nice, but you’re my favorite.”

  “Thank you, Polly.” She was pleased, but attempting to follow Luke’s advice, she was determined to be a friend to all the teens and not make favorites of any.

  Luke was seated at a table near the door to the courtyard, and when he finished his lunch and left the hall, Catherine followed. She caught up to him just as he reached the steps leading up to the office.

  “I need your help with something,” she began.

  “Sure, if you have a problem, I want to know.” He held the door open for her.

  Pam wasn’t back yet, and the outer office was cool and quiet. Luke escorted her into his private office, but she left the door standing open. She had to force herself to sit down, but even then she perched stiffly on the edge of the chair. She hadn’t been this nervous on her first visit to Lost Angel, and she slid her hands between her knees to suppress her jitters.

  “You can pretend we’re not well acquainted, but you don’t have Toby and Dave constantly hitting on you. I’m hoping they’ll b
ack off once we’re working on the mural and surrounded by kids, but if they don’t, I’ll be forced to tell them I’m dating an insanely jealous trucker from San Bernardino. Unless, of course, you can come up with a better story.”

  Luke leaned back in his chair. He was so pleased she had no interest in Toby, it was difficult for him not to gloat. “I’ll speak with Toby when I take him the contract. Let’s hope that cools him off. San Bernardino is a nice touch, but before you go making up any stories, let’s think them through. After all, a trucker would be likely to drive by to check out the mural, wouldn’t he?”

  The office’s warm terra cotta walls and deep russet carpeting formed a soothing cocoon, but Catherine continued to fidget. “I suppose, but just what is it you plan to tell Toby?”

  Luke knew precisely what he’d like to say to the tattooed freak, but for her benefit, he modified it considerably. “I’ll just point out you’re a lady and unaccustomed to having to fend off guys on the make. I’ll say you’re too polite to complain to him, but that you’re deeply insulted by his more or less constant stream of sleazy sexual innuendoes. That ought to work.”

  She had a sinking feeling such a tasteful request might have no impact whatsoever on Toby’s behavior. “I can handle Toby,” she said confidently. “It’s Dave I’m more worried about. You’re right, of course, a trucker would be sure to show up here. Who wouldn’t? What about an airline pilot who flew European routes?”

  “That’s good,” Luke agreed, “or maybe an acrobat with Cirque de Soleil. Perhaps a rock musician on tour?”

  “Right, as long as I’m going to lie, it might as well be a whopper,” she murmured to herself, but her pensive frown warned him his efforts at humor were misguided at best.

  “I know you don’t want to hurt Dave’s feelings and this is my fault. I’m sorry, but I’m not just being a selfish bastard here, Catherine. I’ve a damn good reason for keeping my private life out of the center.”