Toronto Collection Volume 1 (Toronto Series #1-5)

by Heather Wardell

  "All right," I said, stepping back from Magnus. "But I'll be here first thing tomorrow."

  "You'd better be," Forrest said. I pretended to slap him and he caught my hand, grinning.

  "Seriously, guys, thanks."

  "For what, being tired? You're crazy. You must need sleep. Go home already."

  I smiled at Magnus and realized Forrest still held my hand. I gave his a squeeze before extricating myself, and went home as commanded.

  Not to sleep, though. I sat at my art table, eying my schedule for the week and the half-finished pieces awaiting my attention. Then I burst into tears.

  I just felt so overwhelmed. But my life had never been so good. No horrible secrets in my past like Forrest, no big problems like Pam faced, not even the responsibility of carrying a team on my shoulders like Magnus. So why did I feel cold water rising up my body, nearly high enough to drown me?

  I let myself cry for a bit to release the worst of the pent-up pressure then went, still sniffling, in search of a photograph. I found the one I wanted, Pam and me laughing together at our birthday party before I'd confronted her about her drinking, and laid it on my table.

  Studying the picture, I knew how I'd spend the rest of my evening. I needed to understand us, our childhood together and the adults we'd become, to understand what was driving her to the alcohol. I couldn't leave her to suffer. Jayne's pieces would just have to wait.

  Tears fell a few times as I built the piece, but I wiped them away and moved on, no hesitation or doubt in my mind or heart. I worked until I couldn't focus my eyes any more and was nowhere near finished, but I loved what I'd accomplished. Pam had always escaped into reading, so I'd built a library, each book's title referencing a phrase or incident from our lives.

  I couldn't read my sister like a book, but when the piece was done I'd be able to read it and know us a little better. And maybe it would show me how to help us both get everything we'd ever wanted.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I did work on Jayne's pieces over the next few days instead of just Pam's, but it was a constant battle. I woke up thinking of the library, fell asleep picturing it, and it hardly left my mind in between. I hadn't been this obsessed with a piece since the one I'd made for Forrest. It felt good. Whenever I let myself sneak away to work on it, I felt even better.

  Until Jayne called me on Thursday afternoon. Then I felt guilty, and ashamed of my weak self-discipline.

  "Just wanted to see how you're doing, make sure you recovered from that idiot Harold."

  My shoulders hunched over, curling into my chest as if to protect my heart. Forcing them back to their normal position, I said, "I'm okay, thanks."

  "Good girl. Keep thickening up that skin."

  Unable to think of a response, I kept quiet.

  "So, how're my pieces? What have you finished?"

  Her overly bright tone annoyed me. "They're coming along."

  She wasn't put off. "And you'll have four ready for Saturday's lunch, right?"

  Not if I kept making pieces for me, and in a rush I knew that was all I wanted to do. "Jayne, I can't do this any more."

  My words struck me like a body check from the league's toughest player and set my mind spinning. What had I done? I didn't want to quit.

  "Tell me why." Her neutral tone hid her feelings, but I couldn't imagine she was pleased.

  I took a deep breath, not sure what to say, then spoke. "I can't keep up. I'm trying so hard to get them done, and I can't finish even three in a week, never mind four."

  I hadn't meant to say that. It was true, but not the real problem. I could finish pieces that fast, if I loved them. Why hadn't I told her I couldn't do my best work when she gave me such precise instructions?

  "Tess, I only said three because it gives me a nice inventory in a few weeks. You should have told me it's too much."

  I had, hadn't I? And she'd said she didn't want to cut back yet.

  "How many can you do? Two? One? One every two weeks?"

  "It's not just the speed, Jayne. I'm so worn out."

  I couldn't find the words to explain how I felt, and she wasn't listening anyhow.

  "I understand. Let's say one or two for Saturday, okay?"

  Before I could answer, she said, "You know, lower supply means higher demand, so one a week is probably great for us."

  For her, maybe. For me, it would still be a struggle. But I'd wanted this for so long, wanted to sell my work and be a real artist. How could I quit? Couldn't the bit of myself I'd put into nearly every piece be enough to satisfy me?

  "I was considering a solo show for you soon, but we'll have to push that back. And Mango LaRue wants to meet you. Oh! We could arrange a show with the two of you."

  Mango LaRue, Jayne's best known artist, carved intricate wooden sculptures. I loved his work. Having my pieces shown at the same time as his would be incredible.

  I fought for one more heartbeat then gave in. "If we can take it slower, I want to keep going." I did. Of course I did. I'd be fine. I was living my dream, and Pam's too.

  "I'm glad to hear that. Now, let's set the show for..." I heard pages flipping. "Let's say early December, about two weeks from now. You each need at least ten pieces for a joint show, so you'll have to make five more."

  Confused, I did some quick math. Five pieces to her at our first lunch, three before Harold. Minus the sold riverbed and rescued starfish lemmings. "Don't you have six?"

  She laughed. "I can't believe I didn't tell you. The car chase through a shopping mall sold this morning."

  Goodbye, stapled monster.

  Or maybe not.

  "It's a conditional sale. They'd like some changes first." She launched into a list equivalent to turning "Gone with the Wind" into "The Wizard of Oz", and I scribbled the requirements down without thinking about them.

  "And then they'll love it," she finished, and I shook out my aching hand.

  "Great news, though, isn't it? Your second sale."

  Less exciting than the first. Must be that thicker skin kicking in.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Jen arrived as I was putting the final touches on a piece.

  "I'll entertain myself. You finish up so you won't spend our entire dinner worrying."

  After my talk with Jayne the day before, I'd been determined to finish at least one of the three pieces I'd started, and while flipping through my sketchbook in search of inspiration an image had caught my eye and I'd seen how to integrate it into an existing piece. I knew it wasn't exactly what Jayne wanted, but I couldn't do anything but run with it. Whenever I tried to pull myself back to the approved path it felt wrong, and I eventually gave in.

  I'd never worked in front of anyone before, and at first I felt self-conscious, but as my focus intensified I forgot Jen and lost myself in the tiny details of the judge's face. His expression had to combine sternness and compassion, tough to achieve in such a small space.

  When I finished, I joined Jen, who was studying the miniatures atop my TV.

  She looked up at my arrival. "I love this one." She pointed at my swimming piece. "There's something so sad about all those failed attempts around her, but her perfect letter A makes her so happy I can't stay sad looking at it."

  I smiled. "It's about finally qualifying for the championships after so many tries."

  "Deep. What's the new one like? Can I see?"

  I followed her to my table and tried to see through her eyes.

  I'd started with a courtroom scene, as per Jayne's suggestion, but I'd changed her two lawyers to a man and woman facing all their past relationships. One of the man's exes screamed at him, cheered on by his remaining exes, as he stood stone-faced. The central woman, hands on hips, argued with her past boyfriends but seemed to be losing. The two main figures, though, stood back to back, supporting and strengthening each other. At the end of our last phone call Jayne had requested I start naming the pieces, so a small sign on the front edge read, "Court of Love".

  Jen moved a
round to see it all. Finally, she said, "How'd you come up with this?"

  "Jayne had the idea of a courtroom, and the other part, the couple defending each other, came to me in Denver."

  I did my best to keep my voice relaxed and unconcerned, but I couldn't keep the memories from rising, and I couldn't keep my all-too-perceptive friend from seeing my reaction.

  She looked back at the piece, studying first the tall man and then the shorter blonde woman and her exes, and I knew she'd seen how those guys resembled my exes. "You know," she said, inching her way through the sentence as if walking on rough ground, "you didn't tell me much about Denver."

  Last chance to look innocent. "Didn't I?"

  She looked up and her eyes narrowed. "Spare me the innocent face. You didn't, and you know it."

  I did know it. We'd discussed Pam, but I'd kept the rest to myself. "Not much to say."

  "You did Forrest's massage after the game?"

  I nodded, struggling to decide what to do.

  "In his hotel room?"

  "No, at the arena."

  "Then what?"

  "We took a taxi to the hotel and he walked me to my room."

  "And?"

  I couldn't lie and say nothing had happened, but I still wasn't sure I wanted her to know.

  My silence gave it away, and her eyes widened. "Did you sleep with him? I can't believe you didn't tell me. Okay, I want every last detail."

  I shook my head. "It wasn't like that."

  She frowned, then looked horrified. "He didn't force you, did he?"

  I had to laugh at the thought of Forrest doing such a thing. "Don't be stupid."

  She turned her hands palm-up. "Then I'm lost."

  I looked down at my miniature. "I didn't tell you because... because it was amazing." I remembered the look in Forrest's eyes and my heart melted again. "I can't describe it. It totally wasn't just sex. Nothing's ever been like that before."

  She said softly, "And then what happened?"

  I raised my eyes to her face. "He walked out without a word."

  "Why would he--"

  Seeing it dawn on her, I willed her not to say it. I didn't want to hear it.

  "The fiancée thing, right?"

  I grimaced. "He hasn't exactly explained it to me, but I assume so."

  She blew out her breath in a long sigh. "Now what?"

  "Keep massaging him?"

  "Not about that, about you." She gestured to the courtroom scene. "You guys together."

  "We're not together." I hated my own words.

  "But you want to be." No doubt in her voice.

  I resisted for a moment then gave in. "I really like him. He's so screwed up, but he can be so funny and so kind too." I told her how he'd held me after Harold and how he'd offered to give money to Pam, finishing with, "But he keeps pulling away from me."

  She pondered. "Did you talk about Denver?"

  I nodded. "I said it shouldn't have happened, and he said--"

  She play-slapped my arm. "Well, no wonder he's not after you."

  "He's my client, I'm not supposed to."

  "Did you chain him to the bed?" She grinned. "If he didn't want you to, I mean?"

  I returned her slap. "No chains at all, wanted or unwanted."

  "So, he's a grown man. If he hadn't wanted to, he wouldn't have."

  He'd tried to leave before we'd made love, but he'd changed his mind. I'd changed his mind, by telling him I wanted him to stay. And whose voice had he heard? My chest and throat tightened in painful unison and I turned away so Jen couldn't see my face. "I think he wanted her, not me. I don't want him pretending I'm her."

  She laid her hand on my shoulder. "Of course you don't. I'm so sorry. You poor thing."

  I turned to her and we hugged.

  "It's tough, you know? He's hurting, and I want to help him but I don't know how."

  She patted my back and we released each other. "So what's happening now? Isn't it weird working with him?"

  I sighed. "He and Magnus both hugged me Tuesday after the blowup with Pam, and Magnus has hugged me again since but Forrest hasn't. We're not fighting or anything, we've just been totally professional."

  "Do you think he's happy with that?"

  I shook my head slowly. "Sometimes he looks at me like he wants more. But then he looks away and goes back to normal."

  "With everything he went through with the fiancée, I can well imagine he wouldn't be quite ready to date yet."

  Jen didn't know the half of it. "True enough. I just really wish I could help him."

  She nodded, and we were quiet for a few seconds before she said, "Kegan wants to help me, apparently, but he's pushing me into stuff I don't want to do."

  "Really? He doesn't look kinky."

  She laughed. "You'd be surprised, but that's not what I meant. He's trying to convince me to start my own yoga studio."

  "But you like being at the community centre and not having to handle all the administration crap."

  "And I said so, but he keeps saying there's nothing better than running your own business."

  "Tell him to do that, then, and stay out of your business."

  "I just might, if he keeps it up. I like him, or I would if he'd listen to me occasionally, but I've about had it. Hey, speaking of business... My last blog post, how I'll never trust a contractor again?"

  I nodded. "Laughed my butt off." And I had, but I'd also been so angry at the ones who stole her trust, and so sad to read between the lines and realize she also, after her recent choices of contractors and boyfriends, didn't trust herself.

  "Well, I got an email from a contractor who wants to prove they're not all bad. I told him to be at the restaurant so I can meet him without telling him where I live. I figured he could hang out with us for a bit and then we'll have our dinner."

  "Good plan."

  I drove us to Steel. When we arrived, I said, "We're a bit late. You go on in so the contractor doesn't have to wait. I'll meet you inside."

  Once I'd parked, I walked into the restaurant in time to see Jen, her eyes blazing, call, "You're a moron, your highness," after Kegan as he stalked away.

  I raised my eyebrows and Jen said, letting her face go slack and her voice turn dopey, "'I know we're just dating, but do you have to bring your new men here?'"

  "He thinks you're after the contractor?"

  "Oh, who knows what's going on in a man's head? He said he'd had women playing him against other guys before and he wouldn't let it happen again. Then he said, 'If that's a contractor, I'm the king of Romania.'"

  Hence the 'your highness' comment. "Want me to tell him he's wrong?"

  Jen didn't hesitate. "I don't want a guy who doesn't trust me. Plus, no more bullying about my yoga. Good news. Let's go meet Don." She leaned in and whispered, "Think he'll be half as good in bed as Kegan?"

  We laughed and began scanning the dining area. Only one table held a man alone.

  "Is that him?" she breathed. "Could I be so lucky?"

  The man saw us looking and mouthed, "Jen?"

  She nodded, and his lips curled into an appreciative smile. Even from a distance, he looked calm and caring and strong, and my impression didn't change when we reached him.

  "I get so angry when contractors screw people over," he said, dark eyes intense beneath his blond hair. He didn't have Kegan's gloss, but he was utterly Jen's type. "They need to realize how important a person's house is and treat it with respect."

  She smiled at him. "I like that, Don. And what do you propose for my house?"

  Their eyes locked before he started to speak. No fireworks like when she'd met Kegan, but something deep and strong passed between them. I felt it as a low thrum, a ripple in the air.

  Once he'd explained he'd do the work for the cost of materials if she described the process on her blog, I said, "I guess you're your own boss, then?"

  He shook his head. "I work for two guys. They know about this, though, and they're okay with it." He gave me a sheepish s
mile. "You probably think I should run my own business, but to be honest I don't want to. I do the construction stuff, which is the part I love, and don't have to stress over the rest. Most people think I should be more ambitious, but this works for me."

  Jen leaned forward, elbows on the table. "I feel the same way about my yoga classes. Why run my own business when I'm so happy where I am?"

  They smiled at each other, and I slid my phone from my purse and fiddled with it, setting an alarm for two minutes later.

  "Sorry, I thought my phone beeped." I put it away. "Must have been someone else's. So, how long have you been a contractor?"

  In the midst of his response, my alarm went off. I checked the phone and gasped. "Jen, I'm supposed to be seeing Jayne right now. Can we reschedule dinner?"

  "You are?" Her tone was sad, but her eyes danced. "Of course. I'll call you tomorrow and we can set something up."

  "For sure. Nice to meet you, Don."

  "You too."

  Jen hugged me, whispered, "You kick ass," and released me. "See you later. I hope it all goes well."

  "Don't worry," I said, smiling. "I'm sure it will."

  *****

  Exhausted and terrified, I waited for Jayne. After leaving Jen and Don the night before I'd taken one look at the courtroom piece, so clearly Forrest and me, and known I couldn't sell it. I'd put it on the TV and worked all night on one of the other stagnated pieces, finally finishing at four in the morning.

  After a few hours sleep, I'd massaged both Magnus and Forrest. Magnus had put his arm around my shoulders as he said goodbye then pulled me into a quick hug. Forrest hadn't touched me, but we'd locked eyes for a brief hungry moment before he left.

  I couldn't worry about my men at the moment, though. Both the newest piece and the flower garden I'd finished the day of my swim meet had come from Jayne's lists of guidelines, so she should like them. But if she didn't, what would I do? I was fast running out of time to make more.

  "I have the car chase piece for you," Jayne announced when she arrived at the restaurant. "They need it back by Friday because they're having a party on Saturday and want to show it off." She pulled it from her bag. "There. Now, what have you got to show me?"