“Hey, yourself,” Bella answered. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m in the area. Scouting for Ralston’s.”
“Ah. Finding anything?”
“Could be.” Slade’s eyes were hooded as he stared at Bella, transfixing her.
She dragged her gaze away, back to the computer screen. Sliding off the stool, she minimized the page she was on. She stretched. “I’m trying to make a business plan.”
“A business plan,” Slade echoed.
“Yes, you know. Outgo. Versus income. How much I should spend on advertising, how much of that should be in local papers, how much on Internet sites. I’ve already listed on Facebook and LinkedIn.”
“How’d you do yesterday?”
“Not good. I sold two pieces of Penny’s jewelry. A couple came in to look at Natalie’s work, but they didn’t buy anything.”
“You know, in a business like this, you survive from large sale to large sale. You can’t expect to sell something every day.”
“I do know that.” Bella leaned on the counter, picked up a pen, and doodled on one of her notebooks, thinking. “Still. To be painfully honest, Slade, I’m just not sure I can make a go of it.” Talking to herself more than Slade, she murmured, “I don’t know why I didn’t take a good, hard look at the money side before. I think I got carried away by the excitement and romance—”
“What if you had a partner?” Slade asked.
She wasn’t really listening. “Hmm?”
Slade ambled across the room and leaned on the counter facing her. He crossed his arms. His hands were almost, but not quite, touching hers.
“What if you had a partner?” he asked again, his voice low, almost a growl.
Bella looked up at Slade. His dark blue eyes were nearly black. His mouth was quirked slightly in that seductive way he had, but she felt tension steaming off his body. His muscles were taut, his hands clenched on the counter, the knuckles almost white.
“You?”
“Why not?”
Bella cleared her throat. “Surely the real question is why,” she said quietly.
“We’d make a good combination, don’t you think?” Slade’s voice was warm and tempting.
All she had to do was touch his hand.
She pulled back. She moved away. She came out from behind the counter and walked to the door, stepping just outside to stand blinking in the full blast of the summer heat. She stared out, unseeing, at the parking lot. The towering oak at the side threw a circle of shade over the grass and the bench.
She’d learned so much this summer, and why she hadn’t learned it all before now, she had no idea. For one thing, she now knew that she, Bella Barnaby, good, sweet, petite Bella, could want to jump a man’s bones simply because he made her weak with lust. But that was not love. That was not even liking. If she loved Slade, she could overlook the Morgan incident, which hadn’t really amounted to much. But the bittersweet truth was, she didn’t love Slade.
For better or worse, she loved Aaron. That meant that one way or the other, she was in for heartbreak, because she couldn’t have Aaron and this particular shop on rural 202. But she shouldn’t hook up with Slade because she couldn’t have Aaron. Keep it simple, she told herself, for she’d seen that advice mentioned many times on Internet business plans.
She sensed Slade coming up behind her, and then she felt his hands on her shoulders.
His mouth was at her ear. “Bella. Imagine the possibilities.”
It was easier to do it this way, without facing him. “It wouldn’t work, Slade. Not you and me. Not in business, not in any other way either. I don’t know, I’m not sure of much right now. I’ve got to check out apartments in Amherst, I’ve got to check out retail location rents in the town—”
“Why so depressed? Your parents own this building. You don’t have to pay rent.” His hands tightened on her shoulders.
“I think I do. If I want to grow up.”
He tried to turn her around. “I’ll help you grow up.”
She felt his heat, the force of his sexuality. His physical pull was like a planet on its moons as she turned around in his arms.
She put both hands on his chest and shoved him away more brusquely than she’d intended. “Slade, no. I’m saying no.”
His eyes narrowed. “Morgan said something.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mat—”
“Damn it, Bella, Morgan means nothing to me! That was just—silliness.”
“I also know that, Slade.” Now she put her hands on his shoulders, gently. “It was silliness with Morgan, and it is silliness with me.”
It was as if a sheen of ice rose out of his skin, coating his body, veiling his eyes. He had been soft, open. Now he was hard, closed. His mouth became a dark line, bitter, almost frightening. But the worst thing was the glint of pain at the back of his eyes.
She would not say she never meant to hurt him. That would only hurt him more. It would hurt his pride.
He stepped back, out of her reach. He was fully inside her shop and she was outside. Strange. She expected him to push past her now, to stride away, head high, jaw taut, superior and exasperated, to jump on his motorcycle and peel away, scattering the pebbles, tires shrieking.
Instead, he smiled. “You know, Bella, with you it was never silliness. With you, it was never a lie.”
Her heart stopped. “Slade—”
His smile deepened. “Don’t worry, babe. I’ll survive.” Reaching out, he touched his fingers to her chin.
He stepped past her with the gallantry of a highwayman, graceful, contained, already thinking of the future, and mounted his motorcycle. He kicked it into life and wheeled onto the main road without disarranging a stone. “Well,” Bella said, after Slade was out of sight and sound. “Well.” She discovered she needed to cry, and no one was pulling into the parking lot, so she reentered the coolness of the building, went to the back of the shop, sat down on a chair, and bent over, holding her hands to her face and letting the sobs shake her. She wasn’t even sure why she was crying: pity for Slade? regret for lost possibilities with such an enticing, confusing man? terror for herself? For with a partner, she could probably make a go of the shop, but without one, she was afraid she was doomed.
Or maybe not.
She dried her eyes and returned to the showroom.
Slade had taught her some things, that was certain. But she had taught herself—realized it herself—that she had “an eye” for unique pieces of furniture, jewelry, and art. Perhaps the location of the shop was wrong, but Bella’s dream of a store filled with exquisite items for people’s homes was right. Perhaps some people knew what they wanted to do from the moment they could walk and talk, but others didn’t figure it out until later, or when they stumbled across it by accident. Did that make it less real? This felt very real to her.
She had created Bella’s. If she was serious about running a business, she had a lot to learn. She needed to take classes, surf the Internet, and, doing things the old-fashioned way, take books out of the library. The thought excited her.
A man entered the shop, so quietly he took Bella by surprise. She was deep in her thoughts and had to straighten her shoulders and clear her throat before saying, “Hello.”
Her customer wore a stodgy blue gingham checked suit and a polka-dot bow tie. Perhaps in his forties, he was dignified in an academic way, with a short beard and a slow, deliberate way of moving.
“I have moved here from Santa Fe,” he informed Bella in a high, cultivated voice. “As you know, the houses and furniture designs are quite different there. I’ve bought a nice old historic colonial in Amherst, and I’d appreciate some assistance in furnishing it. I read in the paper that you carry some authentic antiques.”
“We do,” Bella agreed, stepping out from behind the counter. “Let me show you what we have.”
27
Ben was lying on his stomach on a long table covered with cushions and a soft blue sheet. Natalie was squinting her eyes at him,
charcoal in her hand, as she worked on the line and shadow of his back. She had his face mostly done, partially submerged in surging water, his eyes open, his arm straining forward past his head as he appeared to swim.
“Can I take a break?” he mumbled, his mouth obstructed by the blue sheet.
“Sure.” He was a good model, capable of holding a pose without twitching, and this pose required concentration and physical effort. Natalie stretched her own arms. “Want some coffee?”
“I need to pee.” He jumped off the table and strode, naked, from the room.
Natalie enjoyed the view of his backside.
When he returned, she enjoyed the view of his front side, but as he walked into the room, he was carrying on a conversation, as if she’d been following him around.
“… so I thought, since Mom and Dad want to travel, but they don’t have the money for it without dipping into their retirement accounts, I’d buy their house. I make a pretty good salary, I’ve got tenure, I’ve stashed away some savings. You and I could live there—you like the lake, I know, and don’t you have to be out of your aunt’s house by next spring? We could get married whenever you want. I know women like to fuss over that sort of thing. Summer would be best for me, because I don’t have as many classes to teach, or, come to think of it, January would be ideal because that’s winter session.” He went to the table where Natalie had placed a pitcher of ice water and glasses, poured himself a drink, and took a long swallow. “Dad will want to finish out his teaching contract this coming year, so they could start traveling about the time you move from your aunt’s. And Brady will be through high school then, but he’ll want to live at home until he starts college, at least through the summer, and probably come home for holidays. With the money I pay for Mom and Dad’s house, they’ll be able to buy a small cottage, not on the lake but in the area. What do you think?”
Torn between disbelief and joy, Natalie almost collapsed onto the floor. Hands on hips, she asked, “Was there a marriage proposal in there somewhere?”
Ben leaned against the modeling table, crossed his arms over his chest, and groaned. “Do you want me to get down on my knee?”
Natalie laughed out loud. “Actually, it would make for a pretty memorable pose, since you’re naked.” Sobering, she said, “Ben, we’ve known each other about three months.”
“Okay, how much time do you think is appropriate before deciding to marry?”
Oh no, Natalie thought, he’s going to get out his computer and start searching for statistics. “I suppose it’s different for each individual couple, Ben.”
“I agree.” He thought for a moment, then said, “Look, let’s get engaged, and then you’ll have until next spring to change your mind.”
“Or you to change yours,” Natalie shot back.
“I won’t change mine.”
“Ben …” She walked to the window. “First, would you put on some clothes? I don’t think we can talk about this with you naked. At least I can’t.”
“Okay,” he answered good-naturedly, and pulled on his bathing trunks. “Better?”
She shook her head helplessly. “You could put on a bear costume and still look sexy.”
Ben walked over and stood close to her, not quite touching. “It’s more than sex between us, Natalie.”
“I know.” Had she ever been more frightened in her life? Had she ever been happier? “It’s just so …” She studied his face, taking in the clear, healthy blue of his eyes, the familiar lines of his jaw and cheekbones, his expression of honesty. How did anyone know? How did anyone trust? “Ben, why do you want to marry me?”
“What?” He leaned back, staring at her as if she wasn’t making sense.
“I mean, do you think it’s time you got married? So you can buy your parents’ house and start your own family?”
“Well, yeah, I suppose I do. But that’s not why I want to marry you.”
She waited in silence, her own heart racing, her pulse fluttering in her neck, wanting him to say the perfect words and at the same time having no idea what those words would be.
Ben frowned. “I don’t know what to say. I mean, I’ve never proposed to anyone before.” Reaching out, he took her hands in his. “I love you. I’m in awe of what you do. I don’t mean just your art, although that knocks me off my feet. What you’ve seen in my mother, what you’ve shown in your drawing of her, well, it’s amazing. I want to be with you for the rest of my life. It’s like you wake up something inside me. I’m more alive when I’m with you. I would never leave you because I couldn’t bear to be without you.”
Something inside Natalie broke open, flooding her with joy. Tears streamed down her face.
Ben looked worried. “Did I say something wrong?”
Natalie put her fingertips on his lips to hush him. “Ben. You said the perfect thing. I’ll marry you. Of course I’ll marry you.”
Ben pulled her to him. “Thank God.”
Natalie lifted her face up to his for a kiss, but he was talking again. “You don’t mind living in my parents’ house, do you? It’s just that I love the lake, and I think our kids would like it, too. It’s big for us, but you could have one of the bedrooms for your studio, and we’ll need bedrooms for our children, and a guest room, too, for when Slade or your mother comes to visit.” He stopped talking, his eyes widening.
“Is something wrong?” Natalie asked.
Uncomfortably, Ben confessed, “I just realized it’s almost August. School starts at the end of next month. I’ll be a crazy man.”
Natalie tilted her head, watching him fondly. “So this is something you need to get done,” she prompted. “This plan to get married.”
“Exactly.” He stopped. “Is that wrong? Does it upset you?”
“No. I’m just learning how you think. I’ve always been around artistic types, Ben. They’re more—romantic.” She gestured at her clothing, and his. She was barefoot, in stained cargo pants and a black tank top. She’d brushed her teeth this morning, but she wore no lipstick and the only mascara on her lashes was left over from last night. Ben was standing there in his bathing trunks. The morning sun streamed in the window.
“I see,” Ben murmured. “You want romance.” He grabbed her wrist. “I have an idea.”
He led her down the stairs and into the kitchen. He snatched her floppy straw sun hat from the hook and plopped it on her head. He grabbed up the bottle of sunblock she kept by the back door and led her outside.
They went down the steps, across the lawn, and over to the canoe left upside down next to the water. As soon as she saw it, Natalie guessed where he was taking her.
Natalie helped Ben swing it over and shove it into the water. They both stepped inside. They both took a paddle. Ben sat in the bow to steer. Natalie was glad to sit in the stern, to watch his back as he took the lead.
The day was hot, the bright sun painting the water with a silver sheen. Their paddles made a kind of music as they stroked along. Ben had taken the day off from his lab in order to model for Natalie; it was a weekday, most other adults were at work or busy with chores. Summer ferns and foliage fell down the banks like a green filigree, and trees swayed in a playful breeze. They glided along the lake, enjoying the serenity of the late morning.
They arrived at the arch of willow branches reaching from one bank to the other.
“Duck,” Ben called.
She bent down as they slid beneath the tickling strands of leaves, and then they were there, inside the small, private cove. Light streamed through the trees, painting the water pale green. From the bank, a frog jumped into the water, affronted at their arrival. The canoe knocked gently against the bank. Ben shipped his paddle and turned around to face Natalie.
He was smiling. “Is this romantic?”
Natalie touched his cheek lightly. “Very.”
She expected him to kiss her. Instead, he reached into his trunks’ pocket and brought out a small black velvet box.
Inside was an antique engag
ement ring, one whopping large round faceted diamond surrounded by smaller diamonds, set in platinum.
“Ben!” She was breathless.
“It was my grandmother’s. My grandmother Barnaby. She passed it along to me for when I got engaged.” Awkwardly, Ben knelt in the bottom of the canoe, which was almost an impossibility with his long legs, and looked uncomfortable. He took Natalie’s hand in his. “Natalie, will you marry me?”
Tears glittered in her eyes, making rainbows fly up from the ring. Her heart was racing with joy. “Of course I will, Ben. I’d throw my arms around you and kiss you, too, but I’m afraid I’ll tip the boat and we’ll both fall out and the ring will get lost in the lake.”
“Then I’d better put it on you.” He slipped the ring from its velvet slot and slid it onto Natalie’s finger.
“Ben, did you have the ring in your trunks all morning?”
“Yup.”
“Didn’t you worry about being out on the lake with it in your pocket? What if we’d had an accident? What if the ring had fallen into the deep part of the lake?”
Ben’s gaze was steady, the expression of a man she could trust. “Sometimes, I think, it’s worth taking a risk.”
28
Bella hadn’t had the best of days.
First, an elderly couple came in, sour-faced and suspicious. The man walked with a cane. He and his wife made a slow tour of Bella’s, eyeing the furniture skeptically. The man would then extend an arm and whack the dry sink or table leg with his cane, several times, as if expecting to prove the wood was really pressboard. Bella politely asked him not to hit the furniture because it might leave marks. The man humphed, told her everything in her shop was too expensive, and the couple left.
The hours passed slowly until her next arrival, who turned out to be a very pregnant woman simply needing to use a bathroom. Afterward, she thanked Bella and rushed away.
The third person to enter was a man in his fifties, so dapper and decorous Bella suspected he was a professor at one of the universities. Enchanted by a desk, he examined it inch by inch, squinting, squatting, peering, even sniffing. He asked Bella if she could come down on the price, and she sweetly said perhaps a few hundred. Then he began to grill Bella: What were her qualifications to sell antiques? Did she belong to the Antiques Dealers’ Association of America? Did she subscribe to any journals such as Art and Antiques? Did she have an associate, perhaps someone older and more experienced, he could talk with? Bella struggled to remain polite, and after he left—without buying the desk—she counseled herself that the interaction had not been worthless. She knew she needed to find out about various organizations and antiques magazines. Perhaps she could even start taking some courses.
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