Fade to Blue

by Julie Carobini

  “I’m all for forgiveness, but not sure how much forgetting you should do. Can I be blunt?”

  “Like I expected anything else from you.”

  She poked her open palm with her pointed fingernail. “You tell that no-good ex-husband of yours that he cannot send you some letter and expect you to fling open your skinny arms and welcome him home. He has got to earn that right.”

  “I didn’t say I wanted to welcome him home. I’m just, um, concerned about Jer and—”

  “Blah, blah, blah. I have told you before, you are soft. I can read you like a menu. The man was your husband and you are wondering if you ought to be giving him another chance.”

  Again with the second chances. Seems to be a valuable commodity these days. I shook my head, not wanting to hear Letty expose my thoughts to the wind. Gage alluded to the same thing yesterday when he asked if I still loved Len.

  Sometimes I wondered if I ever did.

  Letty leaned close enough for me to see the black of her eyes, her perfume igniting my nostrils. “Some people are evil through and through, and no amount of anything can fix them.”

  Her words landed like a slap.

  “Now do not go getting all offended, Suzanna. You married the man so he must have had some redeeming quality. And who knows, it is possible that someone reached him while in the slammer. All I am saying is that knowing what you know, you cannot be too careful. Especially with that beautiful towheaded boy in your care.”

  Jeremiah. Blond, blue eyes, and lean, reminding me of one of the surfers hanging out at Moonstone Beach—and his father, who he resembled more than me. I bit back a roll of emotion. As my son grew, my choices would become more and more difficult. How could I tell him about his father’s criminal past? And would he ever need to know that his father cheated on me?

  Nearby a truck pulled up. I stretched to make out its occupants, shaking off the tangle of thoughts that threatened to consume me. Fred made his way out of the wide cabin, tossed us a brief wave, and began directing two men as they lifted a massive, narrow crate from the truck. One of the men was Seth.

  Of course.

  “Expecting a delivery?” Letty’s cherry-painted lips curled into a smile. Gone was the finger-shaking mama from a moment ago, and in her place emerged the town matchmaker. “Seems like every time I turn around that fine window washer appears right there in front of you.”

  “Oh, really? Doesn’t that mean he’s in front of you as well?”

  Her smile turned coy. “That reminds me. If you are not from around here, how is it that you know Seth again?”

  I ignored her and stepped down the hill where the men lugged the heavy crate across uneven ground. She followed behind me. I knew by her scent.

  “Is this the surprise, Fred?” I asked, more interested in what lay beyond the thick wrapping of plastic and thick cardboard.

  My boss winked. “She’s a beaut, a real treasure in wood that needs some TLC.”

  Even as the men lugged the crate toward the warehouse’s double doors, I touched one side of the treasure through its plastic covering.

  “Careful there,” Seth muttered.

  I stepped back. “Wouldn’t it be better to use a dolly?”

  He shot me a sharp look and sweat beaded across his forehead.

  Fred cleared his throat. “I drafted Seth here and his new trainee to help me with her after the movers tried to charge me a premium for driving up the hill. I’m delighted they obliged. Offered them a cup of coffee first, but they didn’t take me up on it.”

  Letty propped open the double doors and I followed the men in, noting that despite their added strength, they struggled to keep the piece aboveground. I tried to ignore other details, such as the way Seth called the shots even while holding up the back corner and how his arms had thickened over the years, as if from the hard work of molding him from a young adult to a man.

  The guy up front stopped and Seth grunted while swinging to the left in an attempt to stay steady, which he may have done had I not been standing there analyzing him.

  His left shoulder collided with my right arm, and the force of impact could have had disastrous results. Instead, on instinct, my arms swung open and encircled his waist, steadying him. I froze, unable to avoid breathing on him. He grunted again. Was this a natural reaction to events that annoyed him?

  Then he righted himself without a word.

  Fred continued to lead the way through the busy warehouse. “Bring her over here.” He motioned to the specially designed table I had prepped earlier. “That’s it.” He guided them with his words rather than his might.

  Seth’s spiked hair stood saturated at his crown, and a drop of sweat followed a course along his cheek. Together he and his colleague lifted the piece onto the work surface and eased it down, their faces darkened by redness.

  The prize lay beneath all those layers of wrapping. My hands fanned against the protective plastic, and my fingers searched for carvings in the wood. The faint scent of Letty’s perfume reminded me that although I longed to be strolling through a museum or up at the castle, discovering priceless treasures for the first time, we were still in a plain warehouse somewhere on a hillside.

  Seth still stood beside me, hands resting on his hips. “Are we going to open her up?”

  Fred nodded his approval from the other side of the workbench.

  Seth stepped closer, reaching out to help as I pulled away the plastic. His voice cut into the moment, low and nostalgic. “Your enthusiasm reminds me of the day your father brought home that oilcloth sketchbook.”

  I sucked in a breath and froze, plastic wrap in midair. He remembered? My father had taken it upon himself to find me a more suitable home for my sketches than the pile of scraps that had accumulated in my bedroom. Although I hadn’t thought of that in years, the memory of it shone vivid in my mind. “The one with the rounded corners. I filled every page of it—there were at least a hundred.”

  He nodded. “At least.” A hint of a reluctant smile tugged at his mouth and all else melted away: the other artists waiting in anticipation, the towering bare walls and half-clean windows, my knotted-up heart . . . It was as if we were standing on the front porch of my parents’ home again, head to head over something that only the two of us could understand.

  A cell phone rang and Seth patted his pocket. I looked away, the moment broken. Seth switched off the phone midring and slid it back into his pocket. As Letty and several of the other artist apprentices joined in, Seth reached for a large section of wrapping and peeled it back.

  “Let’s do this thing.”

  Chapter Seven

  What lay before us resembled a tall, narrow door made for monarchy. Much like the balcony ceiling outside of Doge’s Suite in Hearst Castle that had been painstakingly restored several years ago, this deteriorated nineteeth-century treasure needed the same care.

  “There’s been damage by wood worms, paint’s faded, and look here.” Fred pointed to a bright blue area beneath a cornice. “Someone tried to touch up the paint, but you can tell they had a devil of a time. Just look at how the various materials faded differently.”

  The enormity of the task stilled my breath.

  My boss winked. “Not to worry, Suzi-Q. We’ll show you how it’s done.”

  Seth caught Fred’s attention. “Good seeing you. We’ll be heading out now.”

  Fred nodded, his smile wide. “Thank you again for your assistance. Couldn’t have done it without you.”

  For the brief time Seth was here, it felt like the yesterday from long ago when our friendship moved along as easy as a spring breeze. He walked away, his gait confident as he led his trainee out of the building and up along the ridge to the rising wall of windows outside. They found a ladder and propped it against the warehouse. Despite the damaged treasure lying on the table and awaiting surgery, today would not be distraction free.

  Fred gestured to Timo. “I’ve assigned Timo here to help you and Letty begin the process of restoring
this piece.”

  I shrunk back. “I’m afraid to touch it.”

  Letty’s eyes quizzed me.

  “I just mean—it’s valuable, isn’t it? Are you sure I’m ready for this?”

  “Don’t get too excited yet,” Letty said. “There’s not much glamour in this part of the process.”

  Fred glanced at her. “That’s right, Letty. I’d forgotten how much experience you have in this area.” He paused. “Well, then, it’s always good to have a refresher. Be sure to have Timo here check your work.”

  Letty’s eyes narrowed and her mouth begin to pucker, but the expression vanished. Maybe I had imagined it.

  On the other hand, Timo looked less than thrilled. He kept scratching his ear inside and out, his mouth twisting in fascinating variations. “Guess we oughta assess the piece.”

  I hoped Letty would offer a more detailed explanation. She only scowled and huffed a sigh.

  I approached Timo. “So should I get a pencil and paper to, uh, write things down?”

  He continued to scratch his ear and shrugged. “Guess so.”

  Letty whipped around, grabbed her bag from the floor, and pulled out a couple of pens and notepads. She handed one to me.

  “Okay,” I said. “So what do we do first?”

  Timo mumbled something about flaky paint and consolidation, his words separated by long pauses and drawn-out instances of the word “Hmm.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Letty tossed her notebook and pen onto an open workstation. “Listen, we are going to have to remove all that flaking paint and then clean the areas until they are smooth again. Eventually we’ll have to fill in those paint losses with the appropriate materials after the lab determines exactly what to use.”

  She continued, her graceful fingers lightly touching upon specific areas. “Looks like we’ll have to create molds to fabricate some parts that have deteriorated.”

  Timo stood straighter and shifted his shoulders. “Of course. Replacing the missing parts is a no-brainer.”

  Letty twisted her gaze to meet Timo’s, her open mouth and contracting eyes displaying her irritation with him.

  He didn’t react except to look at us and say, “Better get started.”

  We worked until afternoon, our lower backs aching from bending for hours. More than once I longed to straighten up, search for a discarded paintbrush, and let myself create something wild and free across the blank walls of our studio. A kaleidoscope of fanciful butterflies maybe? Or massive herons lofting above the artists? But each time, I fought the urge and made myself focus on the task in front of us.

  Why were the walls kept so bare? All my painting classes had taken place in rooms that could be characterized as works of art themselves with splatters on the floor, favorite sketches, watercolors and oils tacked up or framed depending on the whim.

  Fred’s voice called me from my thoughts. “In need of a break, Suzi-Q?”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  He grinned. “There’s a fresh pot of coffee by the door. Take your time.”

  Letty waved me off. So I followed Fred’s advice, poured some brew into a mug, and headed outside. The sun shone but the air felt cool. In anticipation of my first day of “real” work, I had signed Jer up for aftercare at the preschool, so with that in mind, I wandered along a dirt path untethered to time. My walk took me away from the warehouse and toward a clearing that offered a clean view of the sea from high above Pacific Coast Highway.

  “You don’t give up, do you?” Seth’s voice startled me. He sat on the ground, his knees pointed toward the sky, his arms relaxed on top of them.

  “You remember me well.”

  He smirked. “Haven’t seen you in, what, six years? Now all of a sudden you’re everywhere I look.”

  I took a step toward him. “How do I know it’s not you stalking me?”

  As his eyes narrowed, they seemed to turn a deeper shade of green. He gestured for me to sit beside him.

  We both stared out to sea. “So,” I ventured. “Are you stalking me?”

  He examined the dirt hill, then shook his head. “I read about Gage.”

  I tore my gaze from the placid ocean and stared at him. Maybe he is following me. “You knew my brother was here? In Otter Bay?”

  “Kind of hard to miss, Suz. That development he headed up was in the news every other day. That SOS team gave him a tough time about it too.”

  “Oh.” My pulse slowed. Callie headed up Save Our Shores, a group that had opposed Gage’s work on the development—then she fell in love with him. “So you saw his name and thought maybe he could send some work your way.”

  He seemed to roll my comment around in his mind, taking his time to answer. “Couldn’t hurt to ask.”

  “I see. And did you ask?” Why didn’t my brother mention this?

  He tossed a spring weed into the air. “Not yet. Turns out we have almost more work than we can handle.” He swiveled his face toward me. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

  I forced a laugh. “Okay. Well, I guess you’re off the hook then.”

  “Off the hook?”

  “You haven’t been stalking me after all.”

  He nodded like he understood. “Why would I? You made your choice a long time ago.” He dipped his chin. “And I made mine.”

  “And by all accounts you’ve done well for yourself.”

  He offered me a halfhearted shrug.

  I jostled his arm with my elbow, like old times, a small laugh escaping. “What? Holly sounded so proud of you the other night, and I don’t blame her. Pretty impressive being asked to handle the window maintenance of the Hearst Castle.”

  “It’s a window-washing business, Suz. I’m not ashamed to admit that.”

  His use of my nickname warmed the parts of me exposed to the cool wind. “I never implied that you should be. All I’m saying is that not everyone is invited onto castle grounds. If it were me, I’d be doing cartwheels every morning when I turned out of bed.”

  He sat back and gave me an incredulous smile. “You can’t be serious. It’s a building. It doesn’t deserve all the glory it gets.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. When I’m up there, I feel like I can do anything, like I can see the whole world before me and it’s one great, big opportunity.”

  He shook his head. “Really? So you don’t think that mausoleum is overkill? Hearst tore out and rebuilt one of those pools up there twice. To me that’s more like rinsing money down the drain.”

  I paused. “He was a perfectionist.”

  “Who changed his mind a lot.”

  I tried to read Seth’s face. For a man who made it to California like he always said he would, he didn’t seem satisfied. “Mr. Hearst was a dreamer and I respect that.”

  “Dreamer. Shew, the man was a narcissist.”

  I crossed my arms. “Wow. Pretty resentful toward someone you’ve never met.”

  A frown crossed his face. “Never been all that impressed with people who use their money to buy whatever they want, including people.”

  Ouch. Though it had been years, his statement sounded like a rehashing of the past, like he’d hung on to the notion that Len had used money and pretty things to win my devotion. His bitter words sounded like a swipe against Len, and for that matter—me.

  I took in the sea again, trying to digest it like one would a cup of chamomile tea. After several calming breaths in the quiet, I determined to offer grace to us both, though our reasons for splitting up came back to me: We too often sat on opposing sides.

  “Maybe we ought to agree to disagree on this. I really am happy to see you again, Seth. Glad to know you made it out to the coast like you always wanted and found success.”

  He let his arms fall to his sides, arose from the ground, and ran one hand across his backside to brush the dust from his jeans. “Surprised to find you here.”

  I took a sip of lukewarm coffee. “Yes, well, while some people make plans and follow them . . .” I motioned toward the
distant castle. “Others of us stumble our way through life, hoping not to fall off the twists in the road.”

  He stood closer, both of us gazing at the sea. “Hard times, then, I guess.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, hard times.” My cell buzzed, splitting the quiet. I flashed him a guarded look as I pulled the phone from my pocket and glanced at the screen. “Sorry. It’s my son’s preschool.” I answered it. “Hello?”

  “Suzanna? This is Cynthia from Jeremiah’s preschool. We received a call today that we thought best to let you know about right away.”

  I cast a quizzical look at Seth. “A call? What kind of call?”

  Concern knit Seth’s brow and I turned away from him.

  The preschool director paused. “She said she was affiliated with the Heinsburgh Valley Correctional Facility.”

  I tried to keep alarm from my voice. “What did she want?” And how did she know where to find my son?

  “She seemed to already know Jeremiah was here. Her reason for calling had to do with your husband’s—”

  “My ex-husband.”

  Seth shifted next to me.

  “Right, well she said your ex-husband was being considered for parole and she needed to verify Jeremiah’s whereabouts. She told Marilyn, our school secretary, that his release hinged on her being able to provide this information to the parole board.”

  “So you didn’t talk to her but Marilyn did? May I speak with her . . . please?” I regretted how strangled the word please came out.

  “Unfortunately, Marilyn left school today with a migraine.”

  “Did she get the woman’s name? And what did she tell her?”

  “Yes, her notes say the woman’s name was Nina.”

  “And?”

  “I’m sorry that policy wasn’t followed, Suzanna. Marilyn verified Jeremiah’s registration, then thought better of it. We had a long talk about this, and I’m afraid that’s when the migraine set in.”

  “I see.”

  “I hope this isn’t going to be a problem for you. Should we be concerned?”

  It wasn’t as if Len didn’t know where we lived. Besides, I’d held on to his letter for a couple of days before reading it, so it made perfect sense that as the date for the hearing grew nearer, his parole officer would be doing everything she could to make sure all information was available to those who could set Len free.