Newness and Wonder

by Alexis Lynne

  The work surrounding him would not spend years in a junk drawer or on a dusty shelf. It would be valued. He smiled slightly in appreciation, and when he looked up to see a pair of green eyes focused on him, that appreciation switched from something artistic to something completely male.

  The petite woman made her way around the counter, and his appreciation grew as the dark chocolate-colored waves draping over her shoulders bounced with each step. Those waves did not come from an expensive blow-out but were wild and natural. Then she smiled. The attraction was unexpected, but as a distraction from the dark thoughts of just a few minutes earlier, it would do nicely.

  “Good morning. Can I help you with anything?”

  The lack of smoothness that had made him such a terrible litigator surfaced, and in spite of his desire to say something witty and brilliant to the beautiful woman in front of him, he merely muttered a bland, “No, thanks, I’m just looking.”

  “Okay, well, if you need anything, I’ll just be over there.”

  Justin nodded and cursed himself as she walked away. He wasn’t a shy fifteen-year-old, and though he was hardly a Casanova, he had enough experience to know how to talk to a pretty girl. He shook off his disappointment and walked over to a display of beaded jewelry. What was he doing thinking about women anyway? He couldn’t even handle the pint-sized version he was living with. That didn’t stop him from looking back a time or two at the beautiful woman behind the counter or make his heart beat slower when he caught another glimpse of her warm, green eyes, but he eventually forced his attention to the display in front of him.

  Thoughts of Marley took over as he traced a bracelet with his finger. Maybe a gift would help ease the tension. He’d seen her wear jewelry, and Ann had picked out a bead-making kit for him to give Marley one year for Christmas. Like every other decision that should be small concerning his sister, buying a simple beaded bracelet suddenly became far too complicated. He looked back to the shop girl, and though he would rather not give her more room to affect him the way she did, he asked her for help.

  She smiled again and walked over in a completely normal, non-seductive way, and still, his throat went dry.

  “I’d like to get something for my sister, but I’m not sure of her tastes. Do you know if twelve-year-old girls wear things like this?”

  She looked at him appraisingly. “You have a twelve-year-old sister? That’s quite an age difference.”

  “You mean I don’t look eighteen? I’m not sure how to take that.”

  She smiled as her cheeks turned a slight pink, and seeing that small bit of embarrassment helped ease his own.

  “Well, considering many eighteen-year-old boys would not take such care in choosing a gift for a little sister nor show such good taste in doing so, you should take it as a compliment.”

  He smiled broadly, enjoying the sound of her voice and her light teasing. “Okay, you saved the sale.”

  “Whew. We’re coming off the slow season, and I could use the money.”

  “Is this your shop?”

  “No, it’s my great aunt’s. She had an appointment this morning, and I’m filling in. Those are my pieces, though.”

  He looked down at the jewelry display. “You made these?”

  “I did, along with some of the pottery you see over there and the note cards and magnets by the register are print versions of my paintings.”

  Justin was impressed, and not just by her compact curves and enticing smile. Her eyes were soft and warm, and she had an obvious talent for creating beauty from something as simple as clay. “You’re rather versatile. And quite talented from what I can see. Are these hand painted? It must take forever.”

  “It is time consuming, but the beads are larger when I paint them. I shrink them as part of the process.”

  “What is the significance of the design here?” Something told him she did not paint randomly, and he noticed earlier that most of the pieces had different designs.

  She leaned in slightly, and he could smell the scent of her shampoo as she pointed to the bracelet in his hand. He swallowed and attempted to focus on what she was saying rather than how delicious she smelled or his desire to see if those waves felt as silky as they looked.

  “The four beads on this one represent each season. You see the mountains here starting to green up in the spring.”

  “Green up?”

  “Yes, that’s what we locals say. We even have a Greening up the Mountains Festival. Spring comes to the valley first and then makes its way up the mountains. We watch as the green travels upwards, hence ‘greening up.’”

  “Ah. And the rest?”

  “In summer, the rhododendrons bloom, making the hiking trails hard to resist. Fall, as you will soon see, is vibrant when the trees turn. People drive in from all over to see the changing colors. And in winter, after all the leaves have fallen and the Christmas displays have been put away, you can see houses dotting the mountains, reminding us that we have neighbors, though they and their houses are not always remembered during the rest of the year.”

  Her words charmed him, and her obvious passion for the area calmed his doubts. There was much to look forward to, and he and Marley would thrive here. Something in this woman’s eyes told him so.

  “Have you always lived here?”

  “Pretty much. I went to art school in Georgia and worked at some museums and galleries on the coast for a while, but otherwise, this has always been my home.”

  He studied her for a moment and then realized he was completely captivated by this woman, and he didn’t ever know her name. He put out his hand, and thankfully, she accepted the invitation.

  “I’m Justin. I just moved here, and hearing you speak about the town makes me truly glad I did.”

  “I’m Tara. You’ll have to tell my stepfather, the mayor, that. Perhaps he’ll put me on the payroll.”

  “He could do worse things, I’m sure. Will you tell me more?”

  She raised her eyebrows in question and then glanced down at their still-joined hands. He reluctantly let go of her hand. Still holding the bracelet, he gestured toward the register. “Tell me about the scenes you paint.”

  She nodded and walked to the display of notecards, picking up a stack tied with ribbon. She gently loosened the tie and spread each design on the counter. The cards were representations of watercolors and were as detailed and lovely as her jewelry. He wasn’t surprised. Artists often put pieces of themselves in their work, and she was the loveliest thing he had encountered in a long time.

  “Again, we have scenes of each season, from here in town and the surrounding areas. This is the train depot in Bryson City decorated for Christmas. This is our own courthouse with lighted trees on the lawn. This is the river in summer and more of the rhododendrons. Here is our downtown during the Greening Up Festival and one of my favorite views from childhood as the flowers are beginning to bloom. And fall is shown in two different views that I am fortunate enough to see from my own deck. One as the leaves are starting to turn and one where they have fallen enough that you can see downtown.”

  “Fortunate indeed. I’m getting the impression that fall is your favorite season.”

  “It beasts out Christmas only slightly.”

  “I look forward to seeing it in its glory. I’ll take the bracelet and two packs of notecards. I have an aunt who still likes to send handwritten notes.”

  “No one writes letters anymore. It’s nice to know these will see actual words written on them.”

  He watched as she rang up the sale and then carefully wrapped his items, thoughtfully placing the bracelet in a nice gift bag. He wanted to ask her to dinner and nearly blurted out the words before he remembered that there was no one to watch his sister, and he was not comfortable leaving her alone. Still, in spite of the very big reason he should not be getting involved with anyone, he did not want his time with her to be merely cursory. The passion she showed for the things she loved was addictive.

  “I planned t
o spend the morning touring my new town. Will you get a lunch break?”

  She hesitated for a moment and then folded her hands on the counter. Her response suddenly became the most important thing in the world.

  “I don’t know when my aunt will be back. I was planning on ordering in for lunch, but I wouldn’t be opposed to having company.”

  He smiled in relief. “What’s your favorite downtown restaurant?”

  “Proud Larry’s. Everything on the menu is good.”

  “Then I’ll pick up lunch and see you around noon?”

  She nodded and smiled softly. He reached out once again, taking her small hand in his. “It was lovely meeting you, Tara. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

  “Enjoy your tour, Justin. Be warned, though, that you will fall in love quickly.”

  He smiled and walked from the shop, fearing her words were indeed true.

  Chapter Five

  Tara bit her lip and turned to stack the notecards and replace the ribbon. She had woken with a killer hangover that even her walk to downtown had not completely cleared. The sight of the tall, blond stranger, however, did what all the wine the night before had not—momentarily make her feel like something other than the bitter hag Charlotte had rightly accused her of being. Though no handsome face could erase her disappointment, the distraction of flirting with someone so clearly interested was impossible to resist.

  Clamping down the urge to sigh like a giddy teenager, she tried to concentrate on reorganizing some of the displays, but her mind kept wondering back to Justin. Tara couldn’t remember when she had been so instantly attracted to someone. Those gorgeous amber eyes and broad chest of his drew her attention as soon as he walked through the door. She wanted to sketch him, capture all that masculine appeal on paper, and she hadn’t been interested in drawing anything but nature since her first nude experience at art school.

  A man with that much appeal could easily be a player, but Tara had not gotten that vibe from him. He seemed like a nice guy by the way he cared about getting something for his sister and having ever noticed that his aunt sent handwritten notes. He also appreciated her work, which showed incredible taste and class. He had not said where he moved from. She could not detect an accent. That was one of the things she could ask when he came back.

  She smiled as she had the brief thought that she was glad she met the newcomer before Shelby or Charlotte had spotted him. Her sisters were as different as night and day, but one thing they had in common was the ability to attract men. They loved Shelby’s gentle beauty and Charlotte’s more exotic looks and intensity. So far, though, no man had been good enough to catch their attention for long, though many tried.

  “Is that display causing you any specific grief, or do you have a hangover?”

  Tara turned to see her cousin Brandon towering over her, wearing a frown that made her wonder if he had had his own night of overindulgence.

  “What makes you think I have a hangover?”

  “Because I just saw Charlotte, and she had the same look. It usually means y’all tied one on.”

  Ah. The scowl was explained. Brandon was one of those men who had not been deemed good enough, though, bless him, he had never given up. He fell hard for Charlotte in high school, years before she became Tara’s stepsister. Though Brandon was one of the best guys around, Charlotte just never could picture them together. It made Tara sad for Brandon, but the guy had to give up eventually.

  “Where did you see Charlotte?”

  “In the coffee shop—with some guy. A tourist by the looks of him.”

  “Oh.” Tara’s heart sank. “What did he look like?”

  “I don’t know. Short.”

  “Everyone seems short to you, Paul Bunyan. What color hair did he have?”

  “Brown, why?”

  Relieved, Tara just shrugged. “If you’re looking for your grandmother, she’s not here. She had a doctor’s appointment this morning.”

  “I know. I talked to her last night. I came to talk to you, but maybe I should wait until you are finished sobering up.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “I am perfectly sober, thank you very much, and my headache is almost completely gone. What’s up?”

  “I’ve taken a job, and I don’t think you are going to be happy about it.”

  “Since when do you consult me about jobs? Why should I care—” She paused and then breathed in a sharp breath. “You are working for the pig who bought my farm, aren’t you? Brandon!” She completed the exclamation with a stomp of her foot. “How could you be such a traitor? I suppose he’s paying you nicely to build his hipster lemonade stand.”

  “What? Lemonade stand? You are still drunk. I don’t see the guy sitting on the porch squeezing lemons for all the customers he’ll have out in the middle of nowhere. He is fixing up the house and plans to do much of the work himself, but somethings are beyond his skill.”

  “Sounds familiar.” Tara wanted to throw something. She’d had a nice morning, and then the reality of her situation came crushing back in the form of her backstabbing cousin.

  “I’m not a traitor, Tara. I’m a man in need of a paying job. I can’t afford to turn this one down because of sentimentality. Winter is coming, and all the work will be dried up until spring. I’d like to pay my bills the next few months and not feel guilty about it.”

  She let out a frustrated sigh. “Damn it. You are as pragmatic as Charlotte. Why won’t anyone just let me be angry about this?”

  “Because we care about you and understand the family dynamic enough to know you’re heading straight down the road to Franville, and you know what a witch your mother is when she doesn’t get her way. We’ve all tried hard not to be like our parents. Don’t slip now.”

  Tara’s shoulder’s slumped. Not wanting to have the same argument she’d had with her sisters, she changed the subject. “We were spawned from a generation of assholes, weren’t we?”

  Brandon smiled and nodded. “Yes, but we’re grown now, Tara, and are responsible for ourselves.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Save your sermons, father. Hey, can you watch the counter for a minute? I want to go run a brush through my hair.”

  “You really should. I was just about to say it looked pretty ratty.”

  She stuck her tongue out at him and walked to the back room, where she pulled out her purse, brushed her hair, and applied what little makeup she kept in her bag. Thankfully, the lighting in her aunt’s shop was designed to make things look good, even a woman pushing thirty with clear signs of a hangover beneath her eyes. After she chewed on a couple sticks of gum long enough to be sure the last signs of the coffee she had drunk but barely tasted was sufficiently masked, she returned to the front, where Brandon was engaged in a friendly conversation with a man carrying a large to-go bag. They both turned to her, but only one smiled. Brandon rarely did so unless under extreme duress.

  “Well, I’m going to take off. See you, Tara.”

  After shooting Tara an amused look and nodding at Justin, her cousin quickly vacated the shop. She was glad to have to skip the need to shoo him away. He would accuse her of being an asshole, again. Putting all thoughts of her traitorous cousin aside, she turned to Justin and smiled.

  “So how was your tour of the town?”

  “Interesting. I saw some familiar artwork in the gallery across the street. Your paintings are even lovelier than your jewelry.”

  She barely managed not to sigh. She was vain enough to be swayed by compliments on her art and honest enough to admit it, at least to herself. Everything about this man seemed genuine, though, so she allowed herself to be flattered without guilt. “Thank you. I love to paint, especially when the area provides such inspiration.”

  He smiled and placed the bag on the counter. “I know you said you liked Proud Larry’s, but to be honest, I didn’t like the looks of the place. I asked around, and a few people said Speedy’s has the best specialty sandwiches in town. You are well known on Main Street, it appears. It
wasn’t hard to find out your favorites.”

  Tara didn’t know which thought flying through her head to concentrate on first. She settled on the slight indignation she felt toward his dismissal of Proud Larry’s. The owners had come to town a few years ago and turned the restaurant into a spot that wasn’t weighed down by trying to appeal to tourists. It was an eclectic place, with nudes on the walls and a rather interesting fresco of dogs playing hopscotch. At first glance, it could be easily dismissed as a hippy hole in the wall. She decided to let that pass, figuring he’d get in the swing of things once he settled into the place.

  The second thought that came forward was slightly more alarming. “Who did you ask?” Don’t be Fran. Don’t be Fran. Don’t be Fran.

  “She was standing behind me when I asked the clerk if she knew you. I didn’t get her name, but she had long black hair and green eyes a lighter shade than yours.”

  Tara was only a little relieved. “That’s my sister Charlotte. She is going to rag me all night about the hot guy buying sandwiches.”

  A corner of his mouth tilted, and she refused to be embarrassed by the slip up. He was hot, and no way did he not know that.

  “The two of you don’t look much alike.”

  Tara walked to the door, closing but not locking it. Customers could still come in, but she would be alerted by the bell. She then gestured for Justin to follow her to a small break room.

  “She’s my stepsister. Her father married my mother when we were all in college, but we grew up as friends. I live with her and my sister Shelby just up the hill.”

  “In the house with the amazing views.” He started unpacking the bag, and she was relieved to see her second favorite sandwich appear. Her actual favorite was filled with onions and garlic. She owed Char for that one.