by Pat Amsden
“I’d be happy to,” Brad was saying. “If that’s OK with you,” he said to Elena.
“Of course. If Bente’s happy with it why wouldn’t I be?” Elena found herself stammering. Oh great. Now she was going to be sleeping ten feet away from him. It’s just business she told herself firmly.
Just business she told herself as she lay staring up at the ceiling in the small guestroom. It wasn’t personal at all. And once she talked to him tomorrow, set him straight, that would be the end of it. He’d be back to Vancouver and she’d, she’d, Oh God. This was no good. What was he doing here?
She spent a restless night tossing and turning only to get up at the crack of dawn. She tiptoed quickly through the living room trying not to notice Brad in the process. Easier said than done. She shot him a quick look and felt her heart stop.
Sprawled out on the futon, limbs akimbo, tousled brown hair framed a face vulnerable and innocent in sleep. He stirred and she felt her heart begin to race as she tiptoed past him into the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. It wouldn’t be long before Jim was up along with Bente and the kids. She looked out at the yard.
The first rays of sunlight made diamonds in the dew that clung to the bird houses and fairies interspersed through the grass and trees making it a magical sight. She wished she had brought a camera. Everything was working the way it was meant to.
Except for Brad. She couldn’t believe he was here. But it didn’t matter if he was still working for her dad. Oh, she loved her dad. She just didn’t want her life controlled by him. Or anyone, she thought defiantly. She wanted to be her own woman.
She poured herself a fresh cup of coffee and looked up to see Brad in the doorway wearing jeans and not much else.
She’d never seen him shirtless before. His shoulders were broad and he was nicely muscled with a six-pack that was drool worthy. Whatever else he did he definitely found time to work out in the gym.
“Any chance I could get a cup of that coffee?”
“Sure,” she said, pouring him a cup of coffee and feeling her hand tremble. She hoped he wouldn’t notice as she handed it to him. What was he doing here? Why wasn’t he back in Vancouver.
“We need to talk.”
“I don’t see what there is to talk about,” she said stiffly.
“Mm. How about that temper tantrum the other day.”
“Temper tantrum. I was just telling you how I felt.”
“By throwing my cell phone in the water,” he said incredulously.
“Ok, maybe that was unnecessary,” she said. “But I don’t want you working for my dad.”
“Why not? I was when I started. What’s changed?”
“You promised not to report back to him. And you lied.”
“Is that what you think I’ve been doing?”
“Why else would he be calling to find out what you were doing?” she said bitterly.
“Because I work with him. You’re not the only client I have.”
“I never said I was.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“I, just – I don’t want everything reported back to him.”
“I told him that after our first meeting,” he said calmly.
She looked up at him, looking into his eyes, trying to read him. “Are you sure?”
“More than sure. Believe it or not you’re not the only client who demands confidentiality,” he said dryly.
“I know that,” she said flushing. “It’s just …”
“What?” he said.
“I’m not every client,” she said and she could feel her heart beating as she looked him straight in his eyes.
A smile washed across his face. “Oh, you’re certainly not that.”
The look in his eyes was making her feel weak in the knees. He reached out and touched her hair. “You’re definitely not just another client,” he said gruffly.
“I – I thought you said it was just business.”
“It is. It was…” He withdrew his hand standing back from her. “Oh hell, I don’t know anymore.”
She could feel herself trembling. “It’s not good to mix the two.”
He cursed softly under his breath. “Do you have to remember everything I said?”
“I, this business means everything to me.”
“Have I ever asked you to give it up,” he said angrily.
“And I don’t want my father involved.”
“He’s not,” he said furious. “I’ve never told him anything about your business.”
“But you talk to him everyday,” she said, her voice rising.
“Not everyday,” he said exasperated. “I’ve got other clients, other projects. I can’t just walk away and leave them high and dry.”
She turned away from him. “I don’t know. I told you right from the start if you said one word to him you were out.”
“About your business,” he said angrily. “You didn’t expect me to give up my job did you?”
“No. Of course not,” she said.
“Then what’s the problem?”
“Nothing,” she said. “Nothing at all. As long as it’s straight business.”
“Fine.”
“Did you still want to go over the business plan?”
”If you took the time to make up a business plan I want to see it.”
“Fine.”
Star ran into the room stopping in front of them. “Morning,” she said. “Did you
sleep well? Are you staying for breakfast? Will you be here when I get home?”
Elena laughed. “Yes, yes and probably not.”
“Oh,” the smile left Star’s face and she looked like she was pouting. She turned towards Brad. “Did you know Elena’s my godmother?”
“No. But I’ll bet you she makes a good godmother,” Brad said grinning as Bente entered the kitchen holding the baby. “Star, give them a chance to finish their coffee in peace,” she scolded good-naturedly.
“It’s OK,” Elena said laughing. “After all I am her godmother.”
“Well, right now she needs to get ready for school. Come on Star.”
“Oh, Ok,” Star grumbled. “Is it OK if I wear my purple dress?”
“Sure,” Bente said. She poured herself a cup of coffee as Star scampered off. “I have to get Megan up and dressed in a couple of minutes and then I’ll start breakfast. “Nothing too fancy I’m afraid.”
“You take care of Megan and the baby,” Brad said. “I’ll take care of the breakfast.” He moved over to the fridge.
“Are you sure?” Bente said doubtfully.
“I used to do the cooking all the time growing up,” Brad said easily pulling eggs and milk from the fridge along with the bacon. “French toast all right with scrambled eggs and bacon.”
“It sounds heavenly,” Bente said. “Are you sure. I mean, you are the guest.”
“I’m sure,” he said firmly. He moved around the kitchen easily and Bente, shrugging her shoulders, disappeared in the direction of Meg’s bedroom.
James came in, helped himself to a cup of coffee and stopped short, sniffing the air appreciatively. “What’s this? Real food?”
“Don’t worry. I’m not cooking.”
“Good thing too. Last time you tried that I think you gave us food poisoning. I’ve got an early morning meeting today or I’d stay for this. I’m used to whatever box of cereal I can find.”
“Now James – you know that’s not true,” Bente said, entering the kitchen. “I make sure it’s mainly Cheerios and Corn Pops with only the odd box of Count Choculas thrown in.”
“That’s just self defence,” he said grinning. “You don’t want to be stuck dealing with a house full of kids jacked up on cereal.”
“Got me there,” she said cheerfully, as she started setting the table.”
“Tell me you’re not doing the cooking for this enterprise.”
“I have a friend.”
Brad snorted. “Horseshoes up her ass. You actually poisoned people b
efore and you opened up a coffee shop?
“And gallery,” she said defensively. “It’s not my fault I never learned to cook.”
“Right. Blame it on the maids,” Brad said.
“And you just happened to hook up with Mary how...?”
“She just moved to Chemainus when I opened up my shop. She came in one day looking for her cat.” She shrugged. “I’d already found him and calmed him down.” She glanced at Bente and James. “He’d been chased by a large dog and was scared out of his wits, poor thing. One thing led to another and she volunteered to cook up some pie and things for me. What’s wrong with that?”
Brad just shook his head in amazement. “Horse shoes up your ass. The lady in question just happens, happens to have run out of the most successful catering companies in Western Canada for years, decides to retire – and – lands on your doorstep. Did she even get to unpack?”
“I don’t know,” Elena said defensively. “And she did volunteer. I mean I tried doing my own cooking. In fact it was after having a piece of my carrot cake that she volunteered.”
Brad just looked at her and shook his head like he was about to break into laughter. She felt her face reddening.
“I never asked her to. She volunteered.”
“She probably didn’t want anyone killed,” Bente said laughing. “What on earth made you decide to open a coffee shop?”
“And gallery,” Elena said defensively. “I know art. And I thought if I put the two together…”
“It’s a good idea,” Brad said.
“But didn’t you realize you were going to need a cook,” James said, barely able to contain the laughter in his voice.
“I’m not stupid,” Elena said. “It can’t be that hard to cook a few cookies, do some pies and cakes.”
“But wouldn’t you do that first, before you leased shop space say?”
Surprisingly it was Brad who came to her rescue. “Besides she’s right. It’s a good idea and she doesn’t have to know how to cook – as long as she can find someone who does.”
“You see, there’s a method in my madness.”
It was organized chaos as Brad served up French Toast and bacon while Elena brewed a fresh pot of coffee and juice for the girls before shooing them out the door.
“It’s so good to see you again,” Bente said with tears in her eyes as she hugged her before leaving to drive the girls to school while Jeff left for his job.
She was left clearing everything up with Brad. In more ways than one. “You seem – so – domesticated,” she said as she loaded dishes into the dishwasher.
“Just normal everyday stuff,” he said shrugging as he washed down the counter top.
But it wasn’t everyday stuff at all. Not for Elena. “Then why don’t you understand?”
“What?!” he said surprised.
“Why be like my dad?”
“I’m not ,” he said.
“You are,” she accused, eyes flashing.
He turned to face her. “I haven’t given him any information. And I won’t.”
“OK, fine.” She turned away from him. “So where do we go from here?”
“I don’t know.” But his heart hammered in his chest. He was only too aware of her presence, of how close she was.
“Just business?”
“If that’s what you want.”
She nodded mutely. “At least for now.”
“When this is over?” he said moving towards her and capturing a strand of hair in his hands, smoothing it down.
She shook her head, unable to answer.
He drew her to him, kissing her softly. “I’ll wait,” he said gruffly.
“I, I can’t promise anything,” she stammered, eyes filling with tears as she turned away from him.
But already he was regaining his professionalism, surrounding himself with it like a cloak. “I like your houses, they’ll add something to the gallery.”
She nodded. “After this I’m going to another artist who does glass work. I think he’s got some work that will fit in perfectly.”
He felt a small stab of jealousy. “An old friend of yours,” he enquired idly.
“Went to university with him,” she responded automatically.
“Maybe I’ll come with you,” he said easily.
“If you like,” she said, surprised.
“In the meantime I’ve done up a business plan.” They went over it together at the kitchen table.
“It, it looks good,” she said. “Do I really need that much money though?”
”You’re better off with too much rather than too little. You might not get
everything you ask for and you don’t have to spend it all.”
“I guess.”
He smiled at her. “As long as you get customers you’ll be fine.”
“What if I don’t?”
“You will, “ he said confidently.
“Shouldn’t you be lining up financing,” she said.
“I am.”
“I thought you said you were coming with me.”
“How long can it take to visit one artist?”
She shrugged. “I was figuring a day or two.”
Again the flash of jealousy. “I found you here,” he said easily. “I’ve got a few phone calls to make from town and then I’ll catch up.”
“You might not get so lucky when you ask for directions the next time,” she warned.
“I’ll risk it,” he said with a great deal more confidence than he felt.
Bottom line. He was not letting her spend a couple of days alone with an old artist friend.
He spent a few frantic hours in Nanaimo using phones, faxes and the internet to set up financing for her. Calling in a few favours also didn’t hurt.
By the times he’d finished he’d lined up financing for her at two percent below prime with a couple of sources. Of course it also meant they’d have to spend a couple of days in Vancouver. Shouldn’t be a problem he thought smugly, snapping his laptop shut and preparing to meet up with her at ‘The Adventure Zone.” Did none of her artist friends hang out in cities? And did they have to be male?
She on the other hand, was wishing she had waited for Brad to make this trip. Truth to tell she wasn’t all that used to navigating off the beaten track up and down the island. The last time she’d come here with Bente and a few friends from university to celebrate the opening of ‘The Adventure Zone’ by their friend Race. What his real name was she wasn’t sure. He’d spent his life going from one adrenaline rush to another as far as she could see. Then he’d met his match and settled down, as much as could be expected with his soul mate Lydia.
Together they’d opened ‘The Adventure Zone’. It consisted of zip line adventures run by Race, bungee jumping into Nanaimo River and quad racing up and down mountainous terrain. In quiet times Race did glass blowing in his studio turning out icicles made of glass that looked as if they were jewels made of iridescent colours carved out of mountains and forest among other things.
It was probably the constant striving to see just how much he could push the glass, how far he could bend, blow and mould it into new and untried shapes that had made him such an outstanding artist. Now she watched him unhook a group of tired and happy adventurers shooing them in for a pirate’s feast with a sense of joy and trepidation.
The sight of him in hiking boots and shorts, hair tied back in a bandana, a boy at heart himself, brought back memories of student days when they had done wild and crazy things. Usually the ring leader had been Race. It was all too easy to get caught up in the excitement of the moment and find yourself zipping down a mountain or wind surfing in a gale. She intended to keep her feet firmly planted on the ground here. No bungee jumping for her.
“Elena,” he cried out, joy in his voice. “What brings you here?”
“I decided to take you up on your invitation and come see what you’re up to.”
“Brave woman,” he said grinning. “Care to join the pirate crew o
r shall we leave Lydia and her crew to feed the fearsome adventurers for a few minutes.”
“Don’t stop what you’re doing on my account.”
“I’ve got to get all the ropes and gear in order anyway. You don’t mind visiting while I take care of a few odds and ends do you? I’ll make you a cup of primo espresso later.”
She laughed. “It’s fine. We’re old friends.”
He worked swiftly, untangling knots and straightening harnesses. “Sure you don’t want to try bungee jumping.”
“Absolutely not,” she said planting her feet a little more firmly on terra firma. “I came to catch up with old friends and see what glass work you’ve been doing lately.”
“Ah-hah, an ulterior motive.”
She laughed. “I’m thinking some of it might work in my gallery.” There, she’d said it. She wasn’t sure if Race knew of her new venture or not.
His eyes lit up. “Heard you were doing something in Chemainus.
But before she had a chance to explain it in detail Lydia was waving in their direction.
“Ah, needs a little help with the pirate masters/monsters I see,” he said and they joined her in a huge dining room/pirates headquarter. In no time Race was in the thick of things telling tales of pirate booty while Lydia served up steaming hot coffee and biscotti. It was there that Brad caught up with her as the last of the pirates headed for home.
Great, a pirate, he thought. The man looked like a kid himself. A very grown-up kid, he thought grimly. The type woman found attractive.
“Pull up a seat,” Elena said. “This is Lydia. Lydia this is Brad.”
She gave him the once over, her eyes travelling slowly and carefully over every square inch before stopping at his face. “You certainly are,” she said smiling even as she watched a tinge of red spread across his face. “Have a seat. I’ll get a cup coffee for you.”
“And who would you be,” he asked.
“Lydia. Race’s wife.” She watched a look of stunned realization cross his face. “You didn’t think…”
“No, no, of course not,” he said hurriedly, not sure what he’d thought. “All this and he finds time for art as well.”
“He’s a talented man,” she said sweetly. “How did it go with the financing?”