Canvas for Love

by Charlotte Greene

  Table of Contents

  Synopsis

  By the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Books Available From Bold Strokes Books

  Canvas for Love

  With the holidays over and the New Year beginning, Chloé Deveraux and Amelia Winters are finally in a position to concentrate on themselves and their new love. Chloé hopes that she and Amelia can finally stop worrying and start living.

  The course of true love is never easy, however, and Chloé and Amelia struggle to keep their love strong in the face of mounting complications. Family conflict and a woman from Amelia’s past conspire to keep the two lovers apart. These problems, combined with Chloé’s desire to leave Amelia’s art dealership, may act as the ultimate blow to their tenuous romance. Can Chloé and Amelia overcome these threats, or is it time to move on?

  Sequel to A Palette for Love

  Canvas for Love

  Brought to you by

  eBooks from Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  http://www.boldstrokesbooks.com

  eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  Please respect the rights of the author and do not file share.

  Canvas for Love

  © 2017 By Charlotte Greene. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-62639-945-7

  This Electronic Original is published by

  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 249

  Valley Falls, NY 12185

  First Edition: July 2017

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Credits

  Editor: Shelley Thrasher

  Production Design: Stacia Seaman

  Cover Design By Sheri (graphicartist2020@hotmail.com)

  By the Author

  A Palette for Love

  Love in Disaster

  Canvas for Love

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to Becky for helping me choose the title and to Ula, my first reader.

  Special thanks to Shelley, without whom my characters would be muddled in a quagmire of overdramatic gestures and dialogue tags.

  For you, always.

  Chapter One

  When I opened the door, Emma looked frozen solid. Her lips were a little blue around the edges, and she was visibly shivering despite a light jacket, a thin, gossamer scarf, and bright-red mittens.

  “Christ, Emma, get inside!” I said, pulling her in by one arm.

  She was too cold to do much except nod, and I closed the door quickly behind her.

  “Let me get you some tea,” I said.

  “It’s okay. I’m fine. I hate tea.”

  “Coffee?”

  She shook her head.

  “Well, at least let me get you a hot-water bottle. You need something to warm up. Sit down. I’ll be right back.”

  She followed my directions wordlessly, still shuddering from the cold.

  After I put the kettle on, I came back into the room, and she sat huddled under my afghan. She looked so much like a lost little orphan I had to smile. Her color looked a little better now, but she was still shivering.

  “Did you walk over here?”

  She nodded. “Stupidest idea I’ve ever had. I was at Brennan’s for lunch, and it didn’t seem like it would be a big deal—it’s less than a mile. I got about halfway here before I realized it was a mistake, but by then it seemed stupid to call a cab.”

  “I could have come to get you.”

  She shrugged. “I made it, and now I know better than to step outside for more than a minute or two.”

  New Orleans was in the middle of a cold snap. We have them occasionally, but they’re rare enough that most locals have no idea what to do with themselves. I’ve known New Orleanians who don’t even own a heavy coat, and Emma appeared to be one of them. Usually our cold snaps pass in a day or two, but we’d all been stuck in a freezing fog and sleet storm for days. I’d kept my heat cranked up all morning, but because of the high ceilings in my apartment, it took a while to warm up. I heard the kettle start to whistle and left the room to make myself some tea and fill up the hot-water bottle.

  When I came back, Emma had taken off her scarf and mittens. I gave her the water bottle and sat down, clutching my tea. Something about seeing her so cold had given me the shivers, and I held my mug in both hands, the warm vapors tickling my face.

  Emma is the sister of my girlfriend, Amelia. Amelia was on a business trip in Montreal this week and last, buying and selling art for her company. It was turning out to be the longest two weeks of my life. We hadn’t spent more than a couple of consecutive nights apart since we’d started dating, and now it had been twelve. I was originally supposed to go with her, but I’d gotten a terrible case of the flu just before we were set to leave. Amelia had been loath to leave me behind in my condition, but I’d insisted. I’d regretted it almost the minute the limo left for the airport, but I also knew it was for the best. Amelia put a lot of planning into her trips, and if we delayed this one, all of her work would go to waste. Also, I was only now just beginning to feel like a human being again, so it wasn’t like she’d missed much besides seeing me sleep and look like hell.

  Today was the first day I’d been back to work since she left. I’d made myself get up and go to the office this morning because I’d scheduled the first meeting with a new major client today, a restaurant called Teddy’s in the Marigny. Teddy’s is a local institution. While it had opened only a little over ten years ago—making it a baby by New Orleans fine-dining standards—it was already world-renowned. The waitlist for a reservation was so long, I’d never actually eaten there. Despite the fact that Amelia raved about how much she loved the food there, we hadn’t managed to get a reservation even once since I’d moved back to the city. Even money couldn’t buy a reservation there—and Amelia had tried. The restaurant was so successful, they’d opened another branch in the Quarter last year. When I’d scheduled the meeting with them earlier this month, I hadn’t realized Amelia would still be gone, or I would have postponed. I’d been too sick to think about anything the last two weeks, and now I was locked in to going. My friend Meghan was out of town, so I’d asked Emma along for moral support.

  Emma’s face had regained the rest of her color, and she was looking around the room with curiosity. I’d been living in my new apartment for a little over two months now, and it finally felt like home. Amelia and my friends and family had gotten it ready for me to move in as a surprise last Thanksgiving, but it had taken a while to get things set up where I wanted them and make it my own. I’d moved some artwork around on the walls, put up fra
med photographs, and rearranged the furniture several times. Now everything was exactly the way I wanted it to be, and I was proud of the way it had turned out.

  “Your place looks great,” Emma said, smiling. “I’m sorry I haven’t been to visit in so long. When was the last time? Christmas Eve?”

  “That sounds right.” Amelia and I had hosted an informal family gathering with my aunt, her boyfriend Jim, and most of Amelia’s family on Christmas Eve. Amelia decided it was best to spend Christmas Day apart with our separate families, at least this year, so the Christmas Eve party had not only been our personal holiday celebration, but a way for our families to meet. Everyone but my friend Meghan—whom I consider family—and Amelia’s sister-in-law, Ingrid, had been able come, so it was a big success. I didn’t think my Aunt Kate and Amelia’s mom got along very well, but that was to be expected. Aunt Kate is gregarious and kind, and Amelia’s mom is cold and reserved. Everyone else made nice with each other, however, so Amelia and I were pleased overall.

  “Warmed up?” I asked her. “Ready to go?”

  “Only if we drive,” Emma said, shivering. “It’s like hell out there.”

  I laughed. “It’s literally two blocks away.”

  She seemed reluctant, but she finally nodded. “Okay. But you owe me a cocktail for all of this.”

  “Done.”

  I regretted walking almost the moment we were out the door. The air was the kind of bitter cold that happens only in humid places. It gets under your skin, inside you. No coats or clothes exist that can do much for you when you’re in that kind of cold. Emma looked miserable despite the warmer jacket I’d lent her, and about a block from my apartment, the wind picked up, sending little ice crystals flying into our faces. My eyes stung and my nose was running by the time we made it to Teddy’s.

  We were at the restaurant long before the dinner hour, so there was no line to get in. Even on a cold night, one would likely form later. After we stepped inside, stomping our feet to bring feeling back to our numb legs, Teddy herself appeared from the kitchen, clearly waiting for us. I’d seen pictures of her in various local magazines and newspapers, but seeing her in person was something else. For one thing, she’s gorgeous. She has the dark olive skin of the Spanish Creoles and the accompanying black, curly hair, which was short and stylishly cut in a faux-hawk. She was trim and muscular. She wore a black chef’s uniform, and because her sleeves were rolled up, I spotted several dark tattoos on her lower arms. Even from a distance I could see that her eyes were a warm, dark-chocolate brown, and when she smiled at us, my stomach dropped. She looked like a dangerous but alluring predator.

  “Yikes,” Emma whispered next to me. “She’s hot.”

  “Shhhh!” I said, widening my eyes at her.

  When Teddy came closer, I could see that she was a little older than I’d first thought—maybe her early or mid-forties. It made sense. After all, she’d opened her own restaurant over a decade ago and had likely been working and training before that. That made her about fifteen to twenty years older than me. Her dark hair was flecked with gray, and she had little laugh lines around her eyes. It didn’t matter—she was still one of the most gorgeous women I’d ever seen.

  Her handshake was firm, her skin actually a little hot when we shook, and I noticed Emma’s eyelids flutter involuntarily when their hands touched.

  “I’m so glad to meet you after all this time,” Teddy said. “I feel like we’ve been on the phone back and forth for weeks.”

  “I hope you don’t mind that my friend Emma came along,” I said, gesturing at her.

  Teddy shook her head. “Of course not.” She looked at Emma. “You’re welcome to wait at the bar, Emma, while we talk. My bartender likes to experiment when we’re closed, and she rarely gets the opportunity to have a guinea pig.”

  “You just said the magic words,” Emma said and walked over to the long bar on the far side of the room.

  “So how does this work?” Teddy asked, meeting my eyes again. Her gaze was unnerving. She was looking at my face, but something about her seemed to suggest that her eyes were elsewhere, wandering up and down my body. I had to suppress a thrill of nervous energy.

  I broke eye contact. It was hard to concentrate with those eyes on me.

  “Uh,” I said, realizing she’d asked me a question. “Sorry. Lost my train of thought.” I shook my head to clear it. “We’ll do a few things today. I want you to show me the space as much as possible. I’ll make notes on the size and the lighting, and then we can discuss some options.”

  “Do you have everything you need? Can I offer you some wine?”

  “Maybe after we finish our business,” I said. “Let’s look at the space first.”

  The restaurant was spare and warmly lit. Some of the walls were made of exposed red brick, and the rest were a bright-white clapboard, resembling the inside of a farmhouse. The tables were mainly constructed of a heavy, dark wood in the center of the room, but the sides of the room had little elevated alcoves with tables for two, tucked away for romantic dinners. Everything was bathed in a soft yellow glow from the lights.

  The current artwork consisted mainly of landscapes—seascapes, to be more precise. All of them were somewhat lonely-looking, empty of people and with minimal distraction. They went well with the overall look of the place: somewhat stark and minimalist, as if to keep attention focused on the food.

  I measured one of the walls in an alcove with my little tape measure, and then we stopped in front of a large back wall that currently had nothing hanging on it. My tape wasn’t long enough to measure it, which sent my mind spinning at the possibilities. This large space should hold the showcase piece. I made a few more notes and then turned to Teddy, smiling.

  “This is excellent,” I said. “We’ll be able to do a lot here. Do you want to get started now? I brought a portfolio of local artwork with me.”

  “Absolutely. But if you don’t mind, let me go get my wife. She wanted to be here for this part.”

  I smiled and nodded, and she left for the kitchen. I was more pleased that she was a lesbian than the fact probably merited. In truth, besides my friend Lana and her partner Jess in New York, I didn’t really know any other lesbians beside myself and Amelia. Amelia was a very private person and had no close friends. All of my friends in New Orleans were straight. As Amelia and I didn’t go out to bars and clubs, I’d felt somewhat isolated lately. It was nice to finally meet some other women like us.

  When Teddy returned a few minutes later, a pretty, slight woman with bright-red hair and pale skin accompanied her. The woman was wearing a white baker’s uniform, and when she came closer, I caught a distinct whiff of vanilla.

  “Hi, I’m Kit,” the woman said, shaking my hand. “Sorry I wasn’t here earlier—I was in the middle of making beignets.”

  “Mmm,” I said, grinning. “My favorite.”

  “Have you had the beignets here before?” Kit asked. “I’m not bragging when I say they’re the best in town.”

  I shook my head. “I’m embarrassed to admit this, but I’ve actually never had the chance to eat here.” They both looked shocked, and I had to laugh. I held up my hands. “Not by choice. I’ve never managed to get a reservation. And I only moved back to town last September.”

  “Well, we’ll have to rectify that,” Teddy said, one eyebrow raised.

  “We will. My girlfriend has been raving about it for months.” I put a slight emphasis on the word “girlfriend.”

  “Ah,” Teddy said, smiling. “Do you mean the famous Amelia Winters?”

  I blushed. Of course Teddy knew about Amelia. Everyone did. Amelia could hardly go out in public without someone taking a picture of her, and the local media had long ago cottoned on to the fact that she was gay. That was yet another reason she and I stayed at home most of the time. It was tiring to see speculations about us and about me in the society columns every time we went out to eat.

  “I’m sorry,” Teddy said, holding up her hands. “I
didn’t mean to offend you.”

  “You didn’t,” I said.

  Kit swatted Teddy’s arm. “That’s what you get for being so nosy, hon. You’re always putting your foot in it.”

  After an awkward pause, I changed the subject.

  “Are you ready for my suggestions?” I gestured around me.

  Teddy nodded and indicated a nearby table. The three of us sat down, and I opened my notes.

  “First of all, I wanted to ask you about the lighting in here.”

  Teddy frowned. “What about it?”

  Kit swatted her again. “Don’t be so defensive.”

  “I didn’t mean to sound like I was criticizing it, Ms. Rose,” I said.

  “Teddy,” she said absently.

  “I just wanted to know if you would be willing to brighten it a little bit for the exhibit. A lot of the artwork I plan to show you is much more…colorful than what you have now. It wouldn’t look quite right in the light you have in here. Brighter light will make the colors in the paintings and drawings stand out more vividly.”

  “What do you suggest?” Teddy asked.

  “For one thing, we’ll need to replace the golden bulbs you have now with a standard white. We might be able to keep the wattage low like it is now as long as the light was white, or we might need to bring up the wattage just a little. We can experiment with a single alcove and go from there.”

  Teddy and Kit shared a glance and then both turned back to me, nodding. “That seems easy enough.”

  I made a note in my notebook.

  “As to the art itself, I have several photographs with me in my portfolio. I hope you’ll keep an open mind about what I’m going to show you. All of it is very different from what you have in here now.”