by Linda Seed
“That’s just it,” he said. “It’s never been a priority. That’s why it’s just about falling down. Aren’t you the one who taught me how important maintenance is? Well, I’m doing maintenance.”
Orin scratched at the back of his head. “Well, I guess when I said that, I meant maintenance on the stuff we actually use.”
“If we fix up the guest house, we’ll use it,” Ryan said.
Orin scrunched up his face in a mask of skepticism. “How you figure? Who’s going to use it?”
Ryan stopped what he was doing and started ticking off points on his fingers. “Colin or Liam might use it when they’re here for visits,” he said, referring to his brothers. “Or some of the cousins, during the holidays. Or we could rent it out, bring in some income. Or …” He’d saved this option, his favorite, for last. “Or we could rent it as a vacation place.”
Orin looked puzzled. “Well, who’d want to take a vacation here?”
“Jeez, I don’t know, Dad. What with the ocean and the grass and the trees and the fresh air, this place isn’t much better than a Turkish prison.” He looked at his father with scorn.
“All right, all right,” Orin said. “You can just quit with the sarcasm.”
“Well.”
“And who’s going to deal with all these vacationers, when we get them?” Orin was arguing with renewed vigor, now that he’d seized on a new argument.
“I will.”
“You.”
“Yes, me. Why not me?”
Orin squirmed with discomfort. “Well, what about all the work you do around here? How are you gonna have the time?”
“I’ll figure it out.” Ryan slapped his dad on the back in a way that was supposed to be both friendly and reassuring. “Trust me.”
Gen was still pulling together her idea when, one day while she was hanging out at Kate’s bookstore, she heard Jackson mention that the guest house on the Delaney Ranch had been remodeled, and that Ryan was trying to figure out whether to rent it to a regular tenant or make it into a vacation place.
The thought of a guest house on the ranch property clicked perfectly with her artist-in-residence idea. Sure, she could put her artist—whoever it turned out to be—up someplace in town, but that lacked the charm and serenity of the ranch. She could just imagine her chosen artist working on plein air paintings under the canopy of a hundred-year-old oak tree, with an ocean breeze ruffling his (or her) hair.
Would Ryan Delaney be open to hosting her artist? She’d never been to the ranch, and she reflected that it might not be nearly as scenic as it was in her imagination, what with the cows and all of the dirt and smells that went with them.
Being on a cattle ranch could be a draw, depending on the artist’s personality. She’d have to find someone who was into nature, someone not too hung up on the whole animal rights issue of beef production. PETA members need not apply.
Leaning against the counter in Swept Away, listening to Kate and Jackson chat, Gen considered the options. She asked Jackson what he thought, and he said he’d talk to Ryan. Within a couple of days, she had an appointment to go out and see the place. The thought excited her in more ways than one.
Ryan Delaney made Gen’s knees weak. It probably had something to do with his big, expressive, deep brown eyes, framed by dark lashes so thick any woman would envy them. Those eyes made Gen want to envelop him in her arms and make everything all better—even though she had no reason to believe he had a problem that needed solving, or a hurt that needed soothing.
She did, though.
She had the big, empty space in her middle that reminded her she hadn’t had sex in a really long time. Now, there was one hurt that Ryan could make all better.
“So? What do you think?” Ryan was standing in the kitchen of the tiny guest house, his butt leaning against the counter, his arms crossed, waiting for Gen’s appraisal.
Gen tried to tear her thoughts away from Ryan’s tall, lean physique and focus on the house—the reason she was here. The cottage really was beautiful. It was tiny—a sitting room, a bedroom, a galley kitchen, and not much else. But the kitchen had been updated with miniature stainless steel appliances and butcher block countertops, the walls were a buttery yellow, and the hardwood floors gleamed in a warm shade of caramel. One side of the sitting room was dominated by a stone fireplace. She crossed through the little bedroom and into the bathroom, and found new fixtures, spotless and inviting.
“This place looks brand new,” she said, emerging back out into the main room.
Ryan chuckled and rubbed at his chin, which sported a day’s worth of stubble. Gen wanted him to rub that stubble all over her naked body, but suggesting such a thing would have made for an abrupt change of topic.
“Not exactly,” he said. “This place has been sitting here more than sixty years. Just had it redone, floor to ceiling.”
“Well, it looks amazing.”
“Shoulda seen it before. Lucky it was still standing.”
The guest cottage would be perfect for her program for several reasons. One, the setting was quiet and peaceful, just what an artist might need for maximum creative output. Two, the beauty of the surroundings would be inspiring. Three, the fact that it was on a cattle ranch was just unique enough to draw attention. And four, there was the landlord.
On second thought, that might be a drawback rather than an item in the plus column, considering how difficult it was for Gen to form a coherent thought with Ryan standing there, looking at her with those liquid eyes. Plus, there was his attraction to Lacy.
“The program would run for about five months,” she told him. “Jackson said you were planning to rent the place by the week, as a vacation house. I’m hoping that as a monthly rental …”
“I could knock the price down some,” he said, anticipating her question.
“I’d appreciate that.”
“Then there’s the question of studio space.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “What exactly did you have in mind?”
When Gen had said “studio space,” she hadn’t been thinking of a barn. And yet, here it was. The barn was cavernous, with a hay loft, stalls for livestock, and enough space that you could probably land a plane in there.
Gen took in the square footage, the natural, hazy light that wafted in through the open doors, and the pure, tangible ambiance you could only get from an abandoned barn.
“So, is this the original barn?” she asked as Ryan led her into the place with its dirt floors and weathered walls.
“No, not even close,” he said, looking amused. “The original barn was built around 1850, I’d say. It either fell down or got torn down, probably a hundred years ago. This one dates back to about 1956. Or so my dad tells me. We don’t use it anymore, obviously. Built a new one about ten years ago when we outgrew this one.”
“You outgrew this barn?” she asked, taking in the sheer size of it.
“Well, it wasn’t just the size that needed upgrading. The new one’s got all the technology.”
“Huh,” Gen said.
“This one’s got electricity, water. Ventilation. Size works out, if your guy does big canvases.”
“Yeah, I don’t think size will be a problem,” Gen said.
Until now, the idea—the whole artist-in-residence thing—had seemed like a fuzzy fantasy that hadn’t really taken shape. But the barn—the vision of someone setting up in here, throwing paint around, being inspired by the smell of hay and dirt and sea air—that’s what did it for her. That’s what made it real.
She turned to Ryan. “I want it. But I don’t have the details on the dates yet. Or, actually, how I’m going to pay for it. Give me a couple of weeks. Don’t rent it out before then.” Her voice was excited, adamant.
His eyebrows rose. “I don’t know if I can promise that.”
“A deposit, then. I’ll give you a deposit now, and tell you the dates when I’ve got them.”
He rubbed at his chin. “That works.”
&
nbsp; They went back to the main house to work out the details as Gen mentally reviewed the contents of her business account, and winced.
Chapter Five
“You should see the place. It’s so great. Holy cow. No pun intended.” Gen was lying on Kate’s sofa and munching from a bowl of popcorn. Lacy was sitting on the other end of the couch, with Gen’s legs across her lap. Kate and Rose were both sprawled on the floor with blankets and pillows around them, as though they were thirteen-year-olds having a slumber party. They all were dressed in either sweatpants and Tshirts—Lacy and Rose—or pajamas—Kate and Gen. An episode of Gilmore Girls was playing on the wide-screen TV, but they were only paying attention to the show sporadically. There was no need, as they’d all seen it many times before.
“Sounds like a pretty cool project,” Rose said. She sipped from a glass of chardonnay. “Artist on a cattle ranch, painting in a big barn. Sweet.”
“The visuals of this place, I’m telling you, it’s going to get me featured in all the art magazines.”
“And then there are the visuals of Ryan Delaney,” Kate remarked.
“Ah, God. Don’t remind me. I could barely focus on the real estate,” Gen said.
Emily Gilmore said something rude to Lorelai, and Lacy threw a piece of popcorn at the screen. “Shut your trap, Emily. Some kind of mother you are. Jeez.”
“Speaking of Ryan Delaney,” Gen said, nudging Lacy with her toe. “You were all he could talk about at Kate’s party.”
Lacy’s forehead scrunched up in sympathy. “Aw. That’s sweet. But it makes me feel bad.”
“No chance there, huh?” Gen said. She tried to sound like she was idly curious, tried not to betray the fact that her heart was hammering as she waited for the answer.
Lacy shook her head regretfully. “No. I mean, he’s great. I like him. But …”
“But what?” Gen probed. “He’s really sexy.”
“Yeah. He is. I can see that, objectively. But he doesn’t ring my bell.”
“Ah, the Lacy Jordan Hotness Detector Bell,” Rose said knowingly.
“The bell is never wrong,” Lacy said.
“I think it’s wrong this time,” Gen admitted. “I think that bell of yours should be ringing right off its damn holder thingie. Whatever you call the thing that holds up a bell.”
“Really.” Lacy looked at Gen with interest. The messy bun atop Lacy’s head was askew, and strands of her long, blond hair were falling into her face. She had no makeup on, and she was wearing an old pair of grey sweats, but even so, she was so beautiful—so radiant—that Gen could hardly blame Ryan for being taken with her.
Gen sighed. “I just think it’s unfair, is all. Here he is, all smoking hot, all doe-eyed and tall and … and … and so Ryan, and all he can think about is you, and your bell won’t even ring!”
Lacy put a hand on Gen’s shin. “If I could make the bell ring, I would.”
“I know.”
Kate propped herself on one elbow and faced Gen. “Maybe this project of yours will give you a chance to get to know him better. Maybe get his mind off of Lacy and onto a certain curvy, red-haired art goddess.” Her eyebrows wiggled.
“Ah, I don’t know,” Gen said.
They all watched the screen in silence for a few minutes. Lorelai was making jokes at the dinner table in a futile effort to cut the tension.
“There’s no point anyway. It wouldn’t make sense to start anything,” Gen said. Her heartbeat sped as she prepared to say what she’d been keeping from them for weeks. She swallowed hard. “I really need to go back to New York anyway.”
Rose looked up from her place on the floor. “Ooh, a trip to New York. We should all go. Hit some clubs, see some shows. Do some shopping. That would be fabulous.”
“I’m in,” Lacy said.
Gen sat up and cleared her throat. “I mean … What I’m saying is, I really need to move back to New York. You know … permanently.”
Kate sat up straight from her position on the floor. “What?”
Rose, who had been lounging on the floor beside Kate, popped up and put her hands out in front of her in a classic traffic-cop gesture. “Stop. Wait. What are you talking about?”
“Gen?” Lacy prompted. She sounded hurt. Lacy reached for the TV remote and turned off the set.
“It’s just … I don’t want to leave you guys. I love you guys. You know that.” Gen could feel herself starting to get teary-eyed. “But New York is where everything happens in the art world. I can’t make a career here in Cambria. Not really.”
“I thought the gallery was doing okay,” Rose said. “If you need money …”
“It is,” Gen said. “It is doing okay. But … that’s all it’ll ever be. It’ll never do better than okay.”
Kate got up abruptly. “I just … I need to …” She went into her bedroom and closed the door.
“Kate?” Gen called after her. “Kate, come on.”
Lacy put her hand on Gen’s arm. “She’ll be all right. She just needs a minute.”
“I thought you were hiding out,” Rose said. “I thought that big-deal New York guy was intimidating you, and …”
“He died,” Gen said.
Lacy’s eyebrows shot up. “He died?”
“Yeah. A couple of months ago. And now there’s nothing keeping me here.”
“Oh, really? Nothing? That’s nice,” Rose said. “Yeah, maybe you better go, then. Good luck with that.” She got up, hunted for her shoes, and slipped them on her feet. Then she grabbed her purse.
“Aw, Rose. Don’t go,” Lacy said.
“Well, you know, there’s nothing keeping me here.” Rose shot Gen a look that was one part hurt, one part anger. “I gotta go. Bye, Lacy. Tell Kate I’ll see her tomorrow.” She went out the door with a slam.
“Shit,” Gen said, wiping at the tears that were now starting to fall. “That went well.”
Lacy rubbed Gen’s upper arm. “They’ll be okay. They’re just sad. And maybe a little hurt. “We thought …”
“Thought what?” Gen prompted her.
“Well … We thought we were like a little family. The four of us.”
“We are.” Gen pulled her feet up onto the sofa and hugged her knees. “We really are. But families are supposed to support each other in doing new things … in … in reaching their goals!” Gen threw her arms up. “Where’s the support? I have goals!”
“What about this new artists’ thing you’re planning? Is that off, then?” Lacy asked.
“No! That’s why I’m doing it. If I can just have some success with an emerging artist, that’ll set me up to go back to New York, open a gallery there, have some real influence. It’s all part of the plan.” She sighed, feeling miserable. “Hurting people’s feelings and getting everybody pissed at me wasn’t part of the plan.”
“No, I guess not,” Lacy said.
Gen peered sideways at Lacy. “Why aren’t you mad?”
“Me? I don’t know. I guess because I get it.”
“You do?” Gen made a snuffling noise and blew her nose with a tissue she’d grabbed from a box on the side table.
“Oh, hell yes. I’d love to get out of here.”
Gen raised her eyebrows. “Really? I had no idea. I mean, you’ve been here your whole life, your family’s here …”
“Exactly. I’ve been here my whole life.” Her expression took on a mixture of frustration and grit. “I mean, Cambria’s great. And I love my family. But … there’s more out there. I want to try other things, see other places. And I don’t want to be a barista for the rest of my life.”
“Huh,” Gen said. “I didn’t know.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t think anybody does. It’s not like I can talk about it with my family. You can imagine how they’d react.”
Gen gave Lacy a half grin. “Kind of like Kate and Rose?”
“Exactly. But with plate-throwing. There’d probably be plate-throwing.”
After Lacy went home, Gen waited a whi
le for Kate to come out. When she didn’t, Gen went downstairs to her apartment and slept restlessly. She felt unsettled—things weren’t right in her world if her friends were unhappy with her—but she also felt a renewed sense of determination. She couldn’t let her friends’ feelings get in the way of the things she needed to do for herself and her career.
Kate and Rose would come around. And if they didn’t … Well. They would if they cared about her, and that was all there was to it.
Chapter Six
It didn’t take long. The next morning, Gen was just dragging herself out of bed when she heard a gentle knock at her door and found Kate standing there holding two mugs of coffee.
“I brought you caffeine,” Kate said, looking sheepish. “Can I come in?” It was still early, and a heavy fog on the ground made everything look soft and gauzy. The morning was chilly, and Kate was wearing flannel pajama pants and an oversized UCLA hoodie.
“Sure.” Gen stepped back to let her inside. “Jackson go to work already?”
“No, he’s still asleep. He had a late night at the restaurant.”
They went into Gen’s bedroom/living room, and Gen turned up the gas fireplace to ward off the morning chill. She sat cross-legged on her bed, wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, and reached out for the coffee mug. Kate handed it to her, and Gen took a satisfying sip. “Thanks.”
“Gen, look, I’m sorry about how I reacted last night.” Kate looked miserable. “I am. I know you have to think about your career, and I know Cambria isn’t exactly the center of the universe. It’s just … If you go, I’m really going to miss you.” She sat on the bed next to Gen, and Gen squeezed her knee.
“I know. I’ll miss you too. And Rose and Lacy. God, I don’t know what I’ll do without you guys. But …” She gathered her thoughts. “I kind of came here in the first place to run away from my problems. You know? And now …”
“Now it’s time to face them.”
“Yeah.”
“I get that,” Kate said, nodding. “I hate it like hell, but I get it.”