Part 21 (2/2)
”We must meet in person as soon as you can manage it,” said Belinda. ”You'll see. The next six months will fly by. We have to get started. We have to firm up the business end. And I want to visit your friend Barnaby again-but together this time-to discuss the work you have at his studio. When can you come?”
Lacey heard herself announcing that she could come right away.
Logandidn't get home until after nine that night.
Lacey fed him and listened to the details of a doctor's day: the seven-year-old who had almost died of an asthma attack, the sweet elderly widower who refused to take his meds, the thirty-five-year-old woman who had fallen off her roof trying to coax her cat down out of a maple tree.
”Compound fracture of the left tibia.” He shook his head. ”What a mess. Shouldn't an adult woman know better?”
Lacey wiggled her eyebrows at him. ”You're asking me?”
They laughed together. The previous September, right at the end of their five-day affair, Lacey had put her foot through the ceiling of one of the upstairs bedrooms in the house that had been her mother's. She'd been searching the attic for Jenna's cat, which had vanished not long before. She'd ended up with a broken foot-and the cat had shown up over a week later, in another part of town.
”What is it with women and cats?”Loganasked. Since the question sounded thoroughly rhetorical, Lacey only shrugged.
OnceLoganhad eaten, Lacey poured him a brandy and led him upstairs. They sat on the sofa in the sitting area of their bedroom.
He swirled his brandy, sipped and set his gla.s.s on the coffee table. ”Should we check on Rosie?”
”I'd say we have approximately...” She glanced at her watch, and then at the baby monitor across the room, on the nightstand by the bed, ”...a half hour, and we'll be hearing from her.”
”Better enjoy every second of quiet, then.”
”My sentiments exactly.”
He laid his arm along the sofa back. She snuggled up close and leaned her head on his shoulder.
His lips brushed the crown of her head. ”It's good to be home.”
”Um...” She rubbed her cheek against the starched cloth of his dress s.h.i.+rt, thinking how she liked this
time the best, in the evenings, when he came home to her and they sat together-talking, laughing, sharing what had happened in their respective days.
”So tell me,” he said, ”what's been going on around here?”
It was the moment she'd been waiting for, time to tell him her news.
Her pulse had picked up. She was a little nervous, a little worried about how he would take this, given the way he'd reacted the last time she'd mentioned the dealer who just might be interested in showing her work.
Loganlaughed, a low, pleasant sound, warm and deep in her ear. ”What? Total boredom? Nothing to report?”
She ordered her silly heartbeat to slow down. ”As a matter of fact, I do have some news.”
”What?”
She raised her head from its comfortable niche on his shoulder. It seemed wiser, somehow, to look at him when she told him.
He frowned. ”What? Is something wrong?” ”No. No, not at all.” ”Then...?” Her mouth had gone as dry as a long stretch of desert road. She gulped, licked her lips. ”Lacey? What's the matter?” ”Nothing. Really. I only...” ”You only what?” She said it. ”Belinda Goldstone called today.” He just looked at her. She gulped again. ”Belinda ... offered me a show-myown show-at her gallery, six months from now.”
”Your own show,” he repeated, each word slow and cautious.
She nodded. What was he thinking? She couldn't tell. She barreled ahead. ”She needs to meet with me
right away. So I said I'd fly down toL.A.tomorrow, and stay at least until Sat.u.r.day. We'll get to know
each other a little, make some decisions about what to include in the show-well, I mean, beyond those nine paintings I told you about, the ones of you?” She made herself pause, aware she was talking way too fast.
A black hole of silence followed. Cold fingers of dread tracked their way down her spine. He wasn't taking this well. He wasn't taking it well at all.
She didn't know what else to do, so she babbled out more information. ”And Friday night, as it turns out, there's a show opening at Belinda's gallery. So I said I'd be there for that. It will be a great way to get the word out that she'll be handling my work.”
She stopped again, for a breath-and because it seemed that she ought to give him a chance to talk.
He didn't talk. He just went on staring at her. She couldn't bear that. She prattled on. ”I'd love for you to go, too, if you could manage it. I booked a flight for me and Rosie today, while I was making all the other arrangements, but I'm sure I could find one for all of us, if you'd come. I'm leaving tomorrow, staving with my friend Adele. But if you come, we can just go ahead and get a-”
He raised a hand. She fell silent in mid-sentence.
”Let me get this straight,” he said. ”You're dragging Rosie toL.A.with you. And you're leaving tomorrow.” His voice was utterly flat.
She stared at him, shocked by the look of pure disdain in his eyes.
”Well?” he demanded.
She made herself answer in a low, careful tone, all her former manic brightness fled. ”Yes,Logan. I'm leaving tomorrow. And as for Rosie, well, what else would I do? She's nursing, so I have to be around to feed her.”
”You're dragging her all overL.A.with you, to meet an art dealer? And to some art party?”
”No. I'm not dragging her anywhere. I have it all worked out. Adele loves babies. She's promised to baby-sit.”
”All right. So you're flying toLos Angelestomorrow to meet Belinda Goldstone. You're taking our daughter with you, and some artist friend of yours has promised to watch her.”
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