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Kelly delayed the visit to Susan Thomas as long as she reasonably could. But now she had run out of excuses. Maggie and Alex were expecting results, and she’d never let anyone down before.
“How are you?” she asked Ryan when he answered. “What have you been up to?”
“I finished the commission I was working on. Remember, I told you about it.”
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s gone. I stayed up late the night we dropped off your car. I seemed to have a lot of extra energy,” he said, his voice containing added warmth.
“Oh?”
“Seems like the company I’ve been keeping lately has renewed my zest for life.”
“I’m glad,” she said. “I’ve enjoyed your company, too.”
“Well, UPS has picked up the package, and it’s on its way to Omaha. I’m free if you have more work that needs to be done at the retreat center.”
“That’s not why I’m calling.”
“Uh-oh.”
“It’s nothing bad. Really. The only person I have left to contact for the auction is Susan Thomas. Maggie made me promise. I was wondering—would you come with me?”
“Can’t.”
“Why not?”
“The woman scares me to death,” he said.
“Oh, surely not, a big New York City policeman like you.”
“Trembling in my boots,” he said. “If I go, you’ll need to protect me.”
A memory surfaced. One summer, Henrietta had them all selling raffle tickets for a weekend at the retreat center. Kelly had been afraid to go by herself, and her friends weren’t available. She’d asked Ryan, and he’d given her the same line: she’d need to be the one to protect him.
The strategy had worked then. They’d had an amazingly wonderful time, stopping at the general store where he’d gotten them both ice cream cones to celebrate.
He was always doing things like that, probably trying to shore up her self-confidence, which was woefully inadequate thanks to her mother’s constant improvement schemes.
“All right,” she said. “I’ll bring my trusty dagger and slay the beast if she poses any threat.”
“You might bring something bigger,” he said. “She does have a chain saw.”
“I hadn’t thought about that.”
“That’s why you need me along,” he said. “To point out the obvious.”
# # #
HE PICKED HER UP EARLY that afternoon. They needed his truck on the off-chance that Susan actually donated something for the celebration.
They pulled up to a Victorian-style house that stretched across a small knoll with a view to the south of the lake. Painted a deep forest green with brown shutters, it blended well with the pine trees that surrounded it. Flower beds were interspersed with arrangements of colorful rocks, grasses, and shrubs. Attention to detail was evident in everything.
Kelly knocked, and a petite woman with dark hair, dressed in a flowery blouse and dark slacks, opened the door. “You must be Kelly,” the woman said. “I’m Gabriella. Maggie said you’d be coming by. And you brought Ryan. How nice. Why don’t you both come in?”
Gabriella led them through the foyer and dining room, both warm with wide-planked floors, throw rugs, and sturdy furniture. The kitchen was bright with light, stainless steel, and gleaming counters and cabinets.
“Coffee?”
“I’m good,” Kelly said. “Thanks.”
“None for me,” Ryan added.
“Well then,” Gabriella said with a smile. “Susan’s in the back with her woodpile. Good luck!” She opened the back door and pointed to a path that ran into the woods at the right of the house.
They followed the worn trail to a small building and a large amount of noise.
Susan Thomas was a tall but lean woman with a ponytail of thick brown hair. A face mask hid her facial features, and clothes covered her body, but from the way she wielded her chain saw, her muscles were strong.
Ryan shifted a little so Susan would be able to see him. There was a barely perceptible nod while she continued the cut she was making into a good-sized hunk of pine. After a few moments, she stopped.
“Kelly,” she said after flipping up the face mask. “Nice to meet you, but no.”
“It’s nice to meet you, too,” Kelly said, walking over and extending her hand.
Susan held up her sawdust-covered gloves with a grin, and Kelly dropped her arm.
But she wouldn’t give up. “What are you carving?”
“It’s going to be a dolphin,” Susan said. “Like that one.” She pointed over to a collection of animals: plenty of carved wood bears but also horses, eagles, and sea creatures.
“Wow,” Kelly said, examining the pieces. “These are amazing and unique.” Each piece was sanded down and stained, not at all like the crude pieces she was used to seeing at most stands selling similar art. “You put a lot of work into these.”
“I didn’t before,” Susan said. “But since Makalia came to town, we’ve gotten quite a presence. Some guy in Texas wanted one of an eagle, but only if I’d finish it off. I spent a lot of time polishing and adding detail, particularly to the feathers. He paid me a pretty penny. And that’s why I simply can’t give them away, no matter how noble the cause.”
At least the “no” had been softened.
“Doesn’t the celebration contribute to the website?” Kelly asked Ryan.
“A good portion, yes,” he said. “The rest goes to ART, where there are also some of your pieces on display. We’ve already sold two this summer.” He moved closer to Kelly but took obvious care not to crowd Susan.
“Maybe there’s a piece that’s not as polished you might be willing to part with.” Kelly turned and pointed to a small sculpture she’d spotted in her initial perusal. “That’s an owl, isn’t it?”
Susan nodded slowly. “It was something I was trying for the first time. The proportions aren’t quite right for me, and I don’t have the desire to finish it off. But why would I send something that isn’t my best to be auctioned off?”
Kelly walked to the piece sitting on top of a stump. It wasn’t very big, but it had its own charm. The eyes, as crude as they were, seemed to gaze right into her soul to ask who she was. “It’s different from what you usually make,” she said. “But it’s definitely good enough.”
“It could really help us out,” Ryan added.
Frowns and pursed lips appeared on Susan’s face as she obviously warred with herself, her recalcitrant side fighting hard against this new altruistic idea.
“What the heck,” she finally said. She looked over at Ryan. “Pick it up and take it now before I change my mind.” She picked up her chain saw.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, moving away quickly. He groaned a bit when he picked up the owl, and Susan grinned.
Kelly gave her a smile. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Just don’t ask again next year,” she said. “Stop by the house. I think Gabriella has a gift certificate for you. She’s an easy touch. You remember that.”
“I will.”
The chain saw roared.
# # #
“YOU WERE AMAZING,” Ryan said as they headed away from the inn.
“I’ve been doing this awhile,” she said.
“After we drop these things into the storeroom at ART, we’re going for ice cream,” he declared. “You’ve earned it.”
She laughed. “Why do you think you’ve earned the right to boss me around?”
“Since I carried that owl away under threat of chain saw.” He grinned.
“Hmmm. What am I going to use to get you to carry it into ART?”
“Your good looks and sweet personality?” He pulled behind the ART building. He looked over at her, and time seemed to pause.
Breath left her.
He reached over and touched her face. “Ah, Kelly.” Dropping his hand with a sigh, he opened the door and got out.
What was she doing with him? In spite of decades of separation and lives lived with other people, it was as if they’d never parted. Every feeling she’d had as a young girl resurfaced, but the emotions were older, not giddy daydreams. She was seeing the man he’d become, and she was falling for him all the same.
Something that absolutely could not happen. Their lives were different. She’d freeze in Montana’s cold winters and go out of her mind with nothing to do.
No, it would never work. She shouldn’t even consider it. Why was she?
Pushing open her door, she walked over to the building. “Need any help?” she called into the space.
“Nope, all good. It’s a great piece. I certainly can’t see what problem Susan had with it.”
“Maybe she said what she did to save face. She heard our arguments but didn’t want to be seen as giving in.”
“Could be. You are a very astute judge of people, Kelly Paulson. Now, let’s see how good you are at analyzing ice cream.” He headed to the car.
“Shouldn’t we walk?” she asked. “It’s almost across the street.”
“We’re not going to the general store.”
“We aren’t?”
“Nope,” he said and sat in the driver’s seat. “You coming?”
She hurried around and got into the passenger side.
He drove out of the parking lot and headed north. About a mile later, he turned into the parking lot of Promise Cove Sweets, a shop she hadn’t known existed. It was a clever location. Across the street was a parking lot for one of the few free beaches on the lake. Locals and regular summer tourists knew about it, and what went better with a day of swimming than an ice cream cone?
While there was a window that faced the lake side, there was also an enclosed area with a counter and seating. Ryan led her there and took a seat on one of the red upholstered swivel stools bolted in front of the counter.
“Hi, Amanda,” he said to a young woman with curly dark brown hair held back by a pink scarf. Her long dark eyelashes framed equally dark eyes. She had on an old-fashioned ice-cream waitress uniform: a pink shirtwaist dress with a perky white apron.
“Hi there, Ryan.” Her gaze shifted to Kelly.
“This is an old friend, Kelly Paulson,” he said. “I expect you to treat her just as well as you treat me.”
“Nice to meet you, Amanda. But it’s Richards now.”
“Ah, yes,” Ryan said, leaning toward Amanda. “She’s the one who got away.”
“I see,” Amanda said.
“Amanda is the owner of this lovely shop.”
“What should I get you?” Amanda asked.
“I’ll take my usual. Kelly?” Ryan asked. “I suggest something rich and gooey. She’s marvelous at that.”
“Um ... okay. Hot fudge sundae with chocolate chip ice cream.”
“I have salted caramel,” Amanda said, almost in a whisper.
“I’ll take that.”
Amanda slid two dishes dripping with chocolate syrup and mounds of whipped cream in front of them.
“I’ll never finish this.”
“Oh, but you will,” Ryan said, picking up his spoon. “They’re magic.”
She dug in.
He was right. The combination of flavors was sweet perfection but somehow lacked the heaviness of a regular ice cream sundae. She was halfway through before she looked up.
“Why isn’t this place mobbed?”
“She just opened this spring,” he said. “The traffic improves every week. Makalia is doing a big push for the shop on the website and social media in August. Things will explode then.”
Someday, Kelly would have to meet this miracle worker.
“Thank you,” she said to Ryan. “This is wonderful. And thank you again for coming with me to Susan’s. The help was appreciated.”
“I enjoy helping you.”
“Uh ... yes.” She took another scoop of ice cream and stuffed it into her mouth while she studied the decorations in the shop. The pink-and-white theme repeated itself in pink plaster bows on white walls, shelves of pink bears, and candy jars full of pink candies. Somehow, the effect wasn’t as overbearing as it could have been.
“You wanted to know how I got into quilting,” Ryan said, his spoon clinking against the glass as he scraped up every last bit of the treat. He twirled his stool to face her.
“Yes, I’m curious.”
“Most people are. The sanitized version is that I happened to see an exhibit at a museum one day. The artistic expression and creation was as impressive as any painting or sculpture I’d ever seen, only it was done with fabric. It challenged something within me, so I gave it a try.”
She nodded, lingering over a particularly buttery chunk of ice cream. Would he give her the real story?
“Anything else?” Amanda asked as she stopped in front of them.
“A cup of coffee would be nice,” Ryan said. He looked at Kelly, and she shook her head. It had been a while since she’d enjoyed flavors quite so much, and she didn’t want to disturb them.
“The truth is,” he said after Amanda delivered his mug, “I was going through a particularly bad patch.” His gaze was straight on; he appeared to be looking at a memory and not what was in front of him.
“Lorelei had left, and, if I’m honest with you, I deflected whatever I was feeling. I threw myself into the job and was a bear to everyone on the force in the process. It was so bad, my captain called me in and said he couldn’t get anyone to work with me and to tone it down or get counseling. Can you imagine a cop being told to get counseling?” He shook his head and chuckled.
After another sip of coffee, he continued. “I was hyperfocused on the job at hand, but the problem with being too focused on one objective is that you miss the other stuff that may be happening—little clues that might lead to danger.” He stopped talking and stared intently at the back wall.
Whatever had happened had been bad; she could feel it in her bones. The desire to comfort him rose strongly within her, but she pushed it aside. He was too enshrouded in his memories to reach.
“Anyway,” he said to the empty space in front of him, “I’d cornered a young man at the end of an alley. He was drug-crazed, pushing and shoving people, taking things for no apparent reason and tossing them a few blocks later. All I wanted to do was get him into custody and take him someplace safe. The alley had no spots for him to escape. My team was protecting my back.” Ryan swallowed. “I forgot to look up.”
Carefully, she put her spoon on the counter, not making a sound.
“Someone decided I was just another white cop going after a Black man and took a shot at me.” Ryan touched his left shoulder. “I returned fire without hesitation.” His voice choked. “I’m a good shot.” Then he stopped talking and went back to drinking his coffee.
Should she speak? Stay silent?
This time, she placed her hand on his arm, remembering how sensitive her old friend had been. How could he have survived as a cop?
Her touch woke him, and he patted her hand as he turned to her with a smile. “The guy, a middle-aged man who’d seen too much in war—he survived. I testified for leniency at his trial, and he got a minimal sentence. I had to go through the police review board and was cleared. But I finally got that counseling my captain had recommended.
“I started taking long walks, looking for the good things around me, at the great portion of Americans who are doing the right thing. I went to gallery openings and museum shows. One of those was the exhibit I mentioned earlier. Something about the attention to detail and the imagination it took to build a quilt that told a story using only fabric and thread captured my attention. So I bought myself a sewing machine, took some online classes, and began.”
Something beautiful from so much pain.
They were quiet for a few moments.
“Thank you for telling me,” she said.
“You’re the first person I’ve told the entire story.” He grasped her hand which was still on his arm. “I feel safe with you, Kelly. You’re the only one I was ever at peace with. I’m glad to know that hasn’t changed.”
“Me too.” In spite of being married to John for a long time, she’d never had the absolute trust she had with Ryan.
But what difference did that make in her life?
