“Well, the carriage house is just about finished, right?”
“Aside from the HVAC work—which should be done by Friday—the only thing left is the security system. I meant to call your friend today, but I got distracted with moving. I’ll call him tomorrow.”
“Assuming he can do what you need, at the right price, within a few weeks’ time, you could be ready by the end of the summer. I’m guessing the town holiday is Discover St. Dennis. It’s a full weekend, Friday through Sunday. It’s actually a festival the town started about ten years ago to bring new faces into town—you know, drum up the tourist trade, attract the day-trippers. I haven’t been around for it the past few years, but they used to have sailboat races and a big picnic down in the park and a footrace for charity early in the morning, that sort of thing.”
“I can see where someone would think that would be a good opportunity to unveil the exhibit, but I need more time.”
“I thought we just walked through what still needed to be done.”
“That’s just the building. There’s still the exhibit catalog. Thank God the book is finished. That’s a huge weight off me.”
“Tell me about it.”
“It’s about Carolina the woman as well as Carolina the artist. I wanted it ready to go a week or two before the exhibit. I thought if I could get some highprofile publicity, it would spur on sales of the book, which would in turn generate interest in the exhibit. I’ll have to call in a few favors, but I know some people in PR who I think I can count on to give me a hand where the promo is concerned.”
“So what still has to be done?”
“The catalog of paintings for the exhibit.”
“What’s involved in that?”
“I’ve read through the journals and made notes on all the paintings Carolina described as she was doing them. I have to match up the notes with the actual works, so that next to the photos of the paintings in the catalog, I can quote Carolina, what she said about each. And then I have to write a coherent narrative for the introduction.”
“I feel your pain there,” he muttered.
“What?” She stared at him before laughing. “And speaking of your temporary career, weren’t you going to show me the latest article?”
“Right.” Ford stood and retrieved the folder from its place on the counter. He opened it, and handed Carly the several pages it contained.
She skimmed each page before going back to the first and reading through to the end.
“It’s really good. You hit every point we’d wanted to make. You could have a future in this, you know.”
She handed the folder back to him.
“For the love of God, please don’t let my mother hear you say that.” He pretended to look horrified. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she broke another leg if she thought it would get me to take over the paper.”
“You don’t really think your mother fell on purpose?”
“Of course not.” He dismissed the thought. “But you have to admit, it was awfully convenient.”
“If she’d fallen while you were away, would you have come home?”
“Good question. I hadn’t thought about that. I’d like to think I would.” He seemed to be thinking about it now. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I would have. If I didn’t come back, the responsibility for the paper would fall on Dan and Lucy. Dan has his hands full with running the inn and raising his kids. Lucy has a really full event schedule, so I have to think I’d have come home. Besides, my mom never asked much of any of us, so if she needed me here, I’d be here.”
“Even if it meant leaving behind whatever it was that you left?”
“There wasn’t anything left to leave, Carly.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean …”
“It’s okay.” He smiled sadly. “But that’s a story for another time.”
“Will I hear it?”
“I think you will. But we’ll drop it for now.”
She could sense that he was ready to leave—wanted to leave—so she stood.
“Oh. Your wine.” She started to open the refrigerator door, but he reached out for her hand and held it.
“Save it for next time.”
“Okay.” She’d been hoping there’d be a next time.
“What do you do on the weekends for fun?”
“Fun?” She pretended to not understand. “Weekends?”
Ford laughed and drew her to him. “I was thinking maybe a real dinner out, you know, a Saturday-night thing. We could work on the plot of your catalog.”
She laughed. “It has no plot.” Her heart began to race as his arms closed around her. “It’s a catalog.”
“Still, there are things you might want to discuss.”
“Actually, there is something I’m not sure about, something I discovered about Carolina.” Her mind flashed back to Stolen Moments, and the story it told.
“What?”
“I think I’ll save that for Saturday.” She smiled and tugged on the collar of his cotton shirt, drawing down his face until that sexy mouth was hers. She kissed him, holding on until he began to kiss her back. His lips were soft and oh so sweet, just as somehow she’d known they’d be, and something inside her wished the kiss would go on until they couldn’t breathe. His arms tightened around her and pressed her against him until she swore she could hear his heart beating.
As a first kiss, it was a bell ringer.
Then it was over, and those lips were whispering in her ear. “Thanks for dinner.”
Carly leaned back and laughed. “You brought dinner.”
“Right. Well, then, thanks for sharing it with me.” He kissed the side of her face. “Looking forward to Saturday.”
“Me, too.”
“Call tomorrow about the security system.”
She nodded and unlocked the front door. “Will do.”
“I’ll let him know.”
“Thanks.”
He leaned back in for one more kiss, then he was out the door. Carly leaned against the jamb and watched until the lights from his car disappeared at the end of the street.
Well … She exhaled as she closed the door and locked it. She’d been wondering what it would be like to kiss him, and now that she knew, she couldn’t wait to kiss him again. She went into her room, opened the closet, and looked over the clothes she’d brought with her. She wanted to knock ’em dead on Saturday night, and nothing in the closet fit the bill. She made a mental note to hit Bling between now and their dinner date. Vanessa always had something killer in stock, and killer was exactly what Carly had in mind.
Well, this is certainly a fine kettle of fish I find myself in. Note to self: When asking Alice to intervene, be more specific. Giving her carte blanche—i.e., “I’d do anything …”—should come with a caveat. And I know Alice’s hand was in this—literally. I swear that I saw her right before I took that tumble, felt a little nudge right between the shoulder blades. Which is interesting because in her life here on earth, Alice never set foot in the inn. An agoraphobic, she rarely went into her own backyard except to tend to her herbs, and then only because there was no one else to do that for her. Nice to see she’s getting out more these days.