Who Rescued Who

by Victoria Schade

  “Obviously she’s adorable.”

  “Agreed. I think she’s stunning. Unlike anything I’ve seen before.” James managed to pet the puppy without looking away from her face.

  His focus seared her, and she felt a blush creep onto her cheeks, but she held his gaze. “She’s . . . she’s calm.” Elizabeth finally managed to break eye contact and fiddled with the hem of her sweatshirt.

  “It might be temporary. Besides, I don’t think I’ve met her real personality yet. I think she has many, many layers.”

  “She seems to like you very much.” Elizabeth held her breath as she waited for him to answer.

  “And I like her very much as well. I knew it from the first moment I saw her.”

  The room felt like a sauna, and Elizabeth wished she could strip off her sweatshirt. They stared at each other from across the room until a knock on the window shattered the moment.

  Lisa.

  “Everything all right in here?” She peeked her head in and smiled. “Getting on okay?”

  “More than okay,” James answered. “I think we’re making a real connection.” He shot Elizabeth a look.

  “Oh, splendid! Shall I get you a homefinding questionnaire?”

  “I’m very interested, but I need to check in with my other dog before I can commit.”

  “Of course, that’s the next step. Let’s set up a home visit.”

  “Can I call you about scheduling that?” James asked.

  Elizabeth studied James. Why was he being evasive all of a sudden?

  “Here’s my card, ready when you are.” Lisa walked over to him, and the puppy leapt up and scooted a few steps backward. “Poor thing. Do you think you can handle a high-needs pup?”

  Elizabeth wanted to scream at Lisa. She’d been so close to making the love connection happen, and Lisa was ruining it with real-world questions about responsibility.

  “It’s a concern for sure,” James said. “I need to know what I’m getting into, before I commit to bringing her home. My job is intense and I’d actually prefer a low-maintenance situation.” He reached out to the little dog and she licked his hand. “But for some reason I really like this pup.”

  “Have you thought about what you’d call her?” Lisa asked.

  “Care to take this one, Bess? You seem to have it all worked out.”

  “Look at her color,” she replied. “It’s right there in front of you.”

  “She’s brown with reddish highlights.” James shrugged.

  “Pretend you’re describing a beer,” she insisted. “Like you poured that fur into a glass.”

  He looked at her like she was insane, then considered the puppy. He ran his hand along her back and she leaned into his touch. “Uh, this beer is medium-bodied, a nice solid brown. It has a unique fuzzy mouthfeel . . . it’s a classic . . . a classic porter.”

  “And?” Elizabeth urged him on.

  “And there are undertones of a slow-fermented golden red . . .” He scratched beneath the puppy’s chin.

  Elizabeth nodded at him with a huge smile.

  James laughed and pulled the now happily wiggling puppy onto his lap. “Amber ale! Why hello there, Amber, lovely to meet you.”

  chapter twenty-six

  Look at you, a quick-change artist,” James said as Elizabeth pulled the thin black sweatshirt over her head.

  “This is the Fargrove version of a day-into-evening outfit,” she answered as she fastened her seat belt. “I didn’t want to be overdressed for Amber or underdressed for the Welbecks.” She smoothed the front of her blush-colored top, the first pink thing she’d owned in years. She looked down and noticed that she’d accidentally pulled it so that the scalloped edge of her thin mesh Agent Provocateur bra peeked out from the blouse. An inch lower and James Holworthy would’ve seen her nipple. He averted his eyes as she adjusted her top.

  “You look nice,” he said in a quiet voice. Once she was decent he scanned her from head to toe. Elizabeth watched him taking her in, hoping he liked what he was seeing. The unofficial first date had suddenly flipped to very official, and the air in the car crackled with static.

  “My shoes!” She kicked off her sneakers and dug through her bag for the lipstick-red ballet flats she’d bought the same day she’d picked up the top. Reid had paid her first installment in cash and she’d celebrated with a mini shopping spree in town, then suffered from a case of buyer’s remorse the moment she got back to Rowan and Trudy’s.

  “Pretty,” he said softly.

  She believed him, despite the spray of freckles across her nose and the waves in her hair that she hadn’t bothered to tame. The way he looked at her. Like he knew something that she didn’t.

  “Thank you for saying that.” She stared at his profile, taking in every perfect contour.

  He cleared his throat and refocused on the road. “It’s a quick drive, we’ll be there in a few minutes. Can’t wait to see what you’ve brought them.”

  Elizabeth looked over her shoulder at the oversized brown-wrapped package in the back seat. She felt a mixture of pride and embarrassment over the hostess gift she’d brought for Harriet and Des. Was it too much?

  “So how much longer will you be in Fargrove?” James asked.

  The dreaded question.

  “Oh, a while. Rowan and I have a lot of work to do in the barn.” She didn’t want to give him an exact number. She didn’t want to think about it either. Despite willing Carson to call or email her back every day, she still hadn’t heard from him, so she focused on her work with Rowan to keep from getting depressed.

  “And how long is ‘a while’?”

  “Long enough to have some fun!” She’d wanted to playfully avoid answering, but it came out sounding desperate and weird.

  “Hm.”

  Silence replaced the static. She itched to take out her phone but didn’t dare.

  They ended up on a narrow cobblestone street that was different from the rest of Fargrove. Still charming, but more modern-leaning, lined on either side by a rainbow of flat-front homes with large double doors. There was no room for yards, so each house had a variety of potted flowers, climbing vines, and topiaries in front to add an element of green to the street.

  Harriet and Desmond’s home was at the very end, tucked in the corner of the dead end. It was bright blue with a fire-engine-red door. By far the happiest-looking home in a row of deliriously cheerful candy-colored painted brick façades. As James maneuvered into a tiny parking spot, Elizabeth automatically started digging through her purse for her phone, imagining which color would best complement the pink blouse. Maybe she could do a photo series? One of her in front of the pink house, then the baby blue, then the yellow.

  “James, could you—” She held her phone out to him before she realized what she was asking him to do.

  “What?”

  She quickly threw her phone back in her bag. The split-second image of her coaching James how to snap photos while she smiled and posed was like a bad comedy skit.

  “Nothing, never mind.”

  James pulled the package from the back seat and placed it on top of his car. He ran his fingers through his hair, then stretched, like he was getting ready for a workout.

  “Can I talk to you for a sec, before we go in?” James asked in a voice that didn’t match the deep groove between his eyebrows.

  “Of course.”

  He leaned against his car and crossed his arms. The sun was setting and the fiery glow over the rooftops behind him made it hard to see his face. Elizabeth held her forearm above her eyes to block the light.

  His furrow deepened. “I just want to be plain with you about everything. Tonight might get . . . crazy. The drinking. Before that happens, I want you to know that I like you, I really do . . .”

  If he liked her, why was he frowning?

  “I just
. . . I’m not in a place where I can get involved with anyone. The brewery takes a lot of time, and if I wind up adopting Amber, too . . .” He trailed off.

  Elizabeth coughed back the lump in her throat. He was using the puppy as an excuse to keep his distance?

  “Of course, of course. I get it. You’ve got a great work ethic, I’m the same way. I’ve got a huge opportunity in front of me and I’m going to need to focus all my energy on it once I’m back home in a few weeks. So, no worries.” She forced herself to sound cheerful. “Now let me at those Lost Dogs you’ve got in the boot!”

  His face relaxed and he looked relieved. “Already calling it a ‘boot’ like a true ’Grover. Nice.” He opened the trunk and pulled out a box filled with a mix of bottles.

  She wanted to turn around and go home. The reason they were there, the entire reason why overly pregnant Harriet had put herself out to organize the little gathering, was to smooth the path between them. How could she plaster on a cheery face for the night? She needed to pull Harriet aside and tell her. Maybe she could fake a stomach flu and leave early? She definitely felt nauseous.

  Elizabeth followed James to the front door, trying to hold the oversized package so that she didn’t look ridiculous. He juggled the heavy box of beer onto his hip and held the door open for her, and she announced their arrival by accidentally knocking over a gong-sized metal bowl filled with lemons in the tiny foyer.

  “Hey there, welcome, friends,” Des said, rounding the corner, beaming at them as he stooped to pick up a few lemons.

  “Sorry, I blame this thing,” Elizabeth said, nodding to the package under her arm. “What an entry. At least I didn’t hit a candle.” The room was glowing with tea lights.

  “Not at all, you’ve just made lemonade.” He moved toward her and she couldn’t tell if he wanted to shake her hand, hug her, or give her a kiss on the cheek. They danced awkwardly in front of each other for a second until Des gestured that he wanted to take the package from her. He gave her a quick air-kiss and a wink as she handed it to him, then started picking up the remaining lemons, happy to have something to do.

  “Mate,” James said, gracefully leaning in to chest-bump Des.

  “We’re all in here,” Des said over his shoulder as he walked toward the kitchen. “Leave the lemons, come eat!”

  “Did you get them all?” James asked, scanning the floor as he followed Des to the kitchen.

  “I think,” Elizabeth said as she stood up and brushed off her knees. She felt stupid and unnecessary, a clumsy, lemon-stomping party crasher forcing her way into a group of old friends. Why was she even there?

  She dug through her purse and found her phone. She had service, so if she ended up alone on the couch she’d have something to do. She leaned against the wall and tapped through her accounts.

  “Hello? What are you doing?” Harriet whispered to her, tiptoeing into the foyer in a pink apron covered in a repeating cat print that tented out in front of her stomach. “Is something wrong?”

  “Hi, I’m fine.” Elizabeth smiled at Harriet. There was no need to tell her anything; she didn’t want to derail the party after all the hard work Harriet had put in.

  “How did it go with the puppy?” she asked, still whispering.

  “He liked her. Next step is a meeting with Porter.”

  “Fantastic!” Harriet clapped her hands quietly. Her pretty face was glowing. “And what about the two of you?”

  She shook her head and forced a happy expression. “Not going to happen. But it’s fine, no problem.”

  “What do you mean?” Harriet leaned in with her eyes wide.

  “Sweetie?” Des’s voice rang out from around the corner. “Something’s burning.”

  Elizabeth waved her hand. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Let’s go in.”

  The bright blue kitchen was crowded with bodies grazing around the butcher-block island. She recognized Willard and Anna Tolbert from the night at the Three Tups, along with Reid, Nicky, and a wet-haired, pajama-clad Poppy. She noticed that Anna was wearing a pretty floral dress. Elizabeth was underdressed for the first time in her life, but the room felt so welcoming and the air smelled like warm bread and garlic, and for a moment Elizabeth forgot that she was in a discount top and James wanted nothing to do with her.

  “What are you drinking tonight, Bess?” Des asked, standing over a galvanized steel tub filled with beer and wine bottles. “We’ve got a full assortment of Lost Dogs thanks to your driver, I know you like those!”

  “Do you have any Chardonnay?” She felt small the moment she said it, but she wasn’t about to drink James’s beer. He shot her a look and shoved a carrot in his mouth.

  “What is this giant thing you’ve brought us?” Harriet asked, holding up the package. “May I open it now?”

  Barnabas slinked into the kitchen on cue, leaping onto the counter and posing like an Egyptian cat god. Anna scratched his head and he reared up and bumped against her shoulder.

  “Of course, I hope you like it.”

  The room went silent as Harriet tore into the paper. Everyone leaned in to see what was inside.

  “It’s Barnabas!” she exclaimed. “Who painted this? You?”

  She nodded and bowed her head, suddenly unsure of why she’d brought such a ridiculous gift.

  Harriet took in the image with her mouth wide open, then looked at Elizabeth. “How did you do this?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing. It’s from the first time I came to the shop, that photo I took of Barnabas. See, there’s some gray tulle and satin beneath him, to represent my dress? It’s just a little expression of thanks for inviting me tonight.”

  “That’s no ‘little expression,’” Reid said. “I had no idea you were arty like your uncle!”

  Everyone started talking at the same time, raving about her skill and debating where the painting should hang. She watched James as he took in the painting. He studied it quietly, nodding along with the more vocal admirers. Elizabeth took a sip of her wine and looked away. She could feel his eyes on her.

  “Let’s take this party outside,” Harriet said, raising her voice above the ruckus. “Why do you always gather in my work space, people? And keep it down for a bit, I need to get Poppy to sleep as well.”

  Everyone grabbed drinks and trays of appetizers and settled beneath the glowy café lights on the patio.

  “Could we commission you?” Anna asked Elizabeth, drawing the attention of the group. “We have a beagle mix that’s ready for her close-up.”

  Elizabeth searched Anna’s face to see if she was joking. “Really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  “She’s been researching artists. This is serious business for my wife,” Willard added.

  “I’ll do it for free,” Elizabeth said, her eyes wide. “I’ve . . . I’ve never gotten paid to paint.”

  “What? Ridiculous! Of course we’ll pay you. How does it work? Do you need Chelsea to live-model for you? She’s a stunner.”

  “It’s easier for me to use photos, but I’d also love to meet her, so I can learn her personality.”

  “Then we’ll arrange an audience with her, and I’ll send some of her best pictures as well,” Anna said. “I’m so excited, we’re going to have a Barnes original!”

  “The lesser Barnes,” Elizabeth corrected.

  “While we’re talking art, do you have anything you can hang at the Hive?” Reid asked. “Nicky’s taking down his photos and I hate naked walls.”

  “Wait, what? Like, a show?”

  “Exactly! We’ll hang whatever you have, even if it’s just one painting. If anything sells I get a ten percent commission and you get the rest. It’s a win-win; makes my walls look pretty and gives you some exposure. How many have you got?”

  “I, uh, I might have enough. I paint fast, like Rowan. It’s in our blood.” She liked pointing
out that they shared traits. “But . . . a show?”

  “Indeed. You’ve got skills, and I’ve got empty walls. Perfect match. So how many?”

  Elizabeth knew exactly how many paintings she had. Between her mornings with Rowan, which sometimes consisted of more painting than cataloging, and her late nights in the Operculum with Georgina at her side when she was working on something that consumed her, she’d finished fourteen paintings, and was halfway through her fifteenth. More than enough to cover the space at HiveMind. They ranged from twelve-by-twelve-inch character studies that she could turn out in a day to more elaborate paintings, like the one of Barnabas. She worked like she was on a deadline, as if she had to get through as many canvases as possible before her time in Fargrove ran out. Depending on when they’d stage the show, she could probably finish a few more.

  Elizabeth hadn’t considered the possibility of selling her work, but seeing the reaction from everyone made her realize that Rowan’s and Trudy’s praise wasn’t just familial pride.

  “I’ll do it on one condition: don’t promote me as Rowan’s niece. I mean, I’m sure most people will figure it out since this is Fargrove. But don’t bill me that way, okay?”

  Everyone booed.

  “Hey, a little nepotism never hurt, but if you insist,” Reid replied. “It’ll be the worst-kept secret in town.”

  The group of them started brainstorming immediately, and Elizabeth sipped her glass of wine as they bickered among themselves about how best to promote it, whether she should title the exhibit or would it be pretentious to do so, if they should have a launch party, and if there was a launch party would it only have coffee or should they serve alcohol as well. Elizabeth glanced at James when they mentioned drinks, wondering if Lost Dog would step up to provide beer, but he sucked back his bottle and stared into space. Des offered to reach out to the Fizz to play in the courtyard. Nicky offered to help hang her works, since he was the docent of the Fargrove Historical Museum and frequently had to do double duty setting up exhibits. The entire event took shape without a word of input from Elizabeth, but she didn’t mind. They doled out tasks more efficiently than any tech company she’d worked for.