CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

 

Jon managed to get through the day without killing anyone. He’d met with three sets of clients, anxious to engage him for renovations to their homes and workplace. Jon took notes but avoided setting any firm dates, promising to get back to them when he was ready to start.

His calendar was crammed with appointments, thanks to his enthusiastic assistant, Courtney.

When he returned to his apartment, he gutted up and checked his voice mail. That’s when he heard Max’s message. He played it over and over again.

“Jon, it’s Max...I just wanted to say I’m sorry and...I love you, no matter what you’ve done. Please give me a chance to apologize for lying to you.”

She didn’t sound like she was laughing at him. She sounded like she was truly remorseful. She’d recorded it right after he’d left. He didn’t know if she’d changed her mind since then, but he thought he’d better find out.

Jon drove over to Max’s loft and charged up the stairs He beat on her door in case she was painting with her music player plugged into her head. After a few minutes he tried again with no answer.

He remembered the fire escape and climbed up to the third floor from the outside, smiling when he saw the bird feeder filled with seed. He squatted on the landing and peered in through the window. The loft space looked eerily empty. Very few of her paintings remained against the wall. He nodded in satisfaction when he saw the chandelier hanging over the area where the claw foot bathtub sat behind the newly erected glass wall. He couldn’t see if the bed was in place from his vantage point. The loft was clearly uninhabited, yet he was reluctant to leave.

Finally he climbed down and drove out of the parking lot, feeling desperate to be near her.

He drove to Cherise Gilman’s gallery in the Heights, thinking he’d look in the windows to see if any of Max’s work was still on display. It was supposed to remain in place for at least thirty days, but he didn’t know if Cherise would honor the agreement given the circumstances of the opening.

The street was quiet at that hour and he was able to park the Thunderbird right in front. He walked up to the plate glass windows. The gallery appeared to be closed, but a few lights still shone from the inside. Jon shaded his eyes from the glare of streetlights.

Quite a few bare spaces on the walls attested to the sale of Max’s work. Some of Max’s other paintings were hanging in place of those originally selected for the art show opening.

“Why don’t you come on in, Jon?” Cherise stood in the open doorway, her full lips curved into an inviting smile.

He stepped back from the window. “I didn’t realize the gallery was still open.” He took a few steps toward her. “You’re keeping some late hours, Cherise.”

She shrugged. “I’m closed, but I don’t seem to have anything else to do with my time.” She stepped back from the door, allowing him to enter her domain.

~*~

Max’s throat closed up when she spotted Jon’s car outside of Cherise’s gallery.

After the meal, Willa had suggested they drive by the gallery to check on Max’s paintings. They’d planned to peek through the windows to see what paintings remained on the wall.

When they were at the restaurant, in the restroom, Willa had told Max that she should forget about Jon and turn her attention to painting and opening their gallery.

Merrick drove them to the Heights and turned onto the tree-lined street. He slowed down to look for a parking place when Max spied the vintage car and gripped his arm.

“No, don’t stop. Please drive me home.”

“I thought you two wanted to window snoop,” he said.

“Get us out of here, Merrick.” Willa’s face was grim as she slipped a protective arm around Max’s shoulders.

Max stared at Jon’s T-Bird. He was with Cherise. Cherise had said they were still together. Now Max knew the truth. Jon had been holed up with Cherise this entire time. He’d returned to his old girlfriend to comfort him while he licked his wounds.

Max’s stomach was roiling with anger and something else. They were two blocks past the gallery when she opened the window but the city air didn’t help.

“Pull over,” she said. Merrick complied and Max leaped out. She held onto the back fender to steady herself while she threw up. She climbed unsteadily back inside the truck and slammed the door. “I think I got some bad shrimp.”

Merrick offered to take her to the emergency room but she declined. “Just take me home, please.”

Max jumped out in the parking lot as soon as Merrick’s tires stopped going around. “I’m tired, guys,” she insisted. “I just want to get some rest.”

“Let me know if you can’t make the regatta, Max,” Merrick said. “I’ll have to arrange for alternate crew.”

“I wouldn’t let you down. Pick me up and we’ll get another trophy for your collection.” Max waved to them and ducked inside the building.

Early the next morning Max started on a new painting. From memory, she sketched the place on Jon’s family ranch where the dry creek bed ran through the stand of maples. She blocked in the large color areas.

Then she set two smaller canvasses together and began sketching a diptych. When finished, the two canvasses would be hung close together and the design would read as one, the space between, lending an element of drama to the paintings.

It felt good to be working on something that looked like something. The abstracts had been fun but this was what she preferred to paint.

It was late morning when Willa beat on her door.

Max put down her brush to admit her.

“That’s a pretty picture.” Willa pointed to the work in progress on the easel. “Here’s your breakfast.”

Max opened the bag, grinning when she saw scrambled egg biscuits with cheese oozing out. “You are my very best friend in the whole wide world and I love you.”

“Don’t you think you should see a doctor?” Willa asked. “Barfing your guts up can’t be good for this kid.”

“I will,” Max said. “Until last night, I kept hoping Jon would come back to me. You know, just show up and we’d get back together. I wanted to give him a chance to be a part of this.”

“Your big brother is going to tear Jon Donnell’s head off,” Wills said emphatically.

Max shuddered. “Please, I don’t even want to think about that.”

“Jon’s a complete scum-sucking weasel and doesn’t deserve you anyway.” Willa handed her a carton of milk. “Drink this so you’re kid will be nice and tall.”

Max snorted as she accepted the milk. “I don’t think there’s a chance he or she won’t be tall.”

“Didn’t it occur to you to use some protection?” Willa frowned at her. “I mean, I love your brother more than chocolate, but I wouldn’t let him near me unless we were using at least three forms of birth control.”

Max swallowed her bite of biscuit. “I never planned to sleep with Jon.” She shrugged. “It just happened.”

Willa furrowed her fine brow. “You know what they call girls who don’t plan ahead?”

“What?” Max looked up from the biscuit.

“Mommy.”

While Max and Willa spent time in their future gallery, Merrick directed his crew to strip the remaining debris from the unoccupied lofts. He met with an electrician and walked him through the spaces requiring rewiring.

Sherman offered to help and Merrick hired him to assist with the demolition and provide any welding services needed.

By the middle of the afternoon, they quit work and Merrick took both women to spend the night at his house. They planned to make an early start for the regatta the next day.

It was Willa’s first regatta, and she was bubbling with excitement. She chattered nonstop as she helped Merrick prepare their meal. All the while Willa kept casting worried glances in Max’s direction.

Max pulled a stool up to the dining bar in Merrick’s kitchen. She watched Merrick interacting with Willa. He treated her with a deference bordering on awe. Her brother was still her brother. He was still the golden wonder boy and master of all he surveyed, but somewhere along the way, he’d stopped being single.

He and Willa had become a couple.

~*~

Jon went by Max’s loft again. He’d had a long day, filled with people wanting him to work on their homes and offices.

Oleg Cantwell had poked his smarmy face into Jon’s office to make a few smart comments alluding to his near incarceration.

Jon stood up and made a lunge for him and Oleg nearly fainted. He disappeared from the building and wasn’t seen for the rest of the day.

After his last client left, Jon drove straight to the loft and banged on Max’s door several times. He thought he’d wait for her and descended the stairs intending to sit in his car, no matter how long it took her to get back home. He met Max’s friend, Sherman coming up the stairs.

“Hey, man,” Sherman said. “I remember you. You’re the dude who thought Max’s name was Millie.” Sherman laughed heartily.

Jon gave him a grim nod. “I was misinformed.”

“That’s the truth, man. She’s not home.”

“So I discovered,” Jon said. “You don’t happen to know where she might be, do you.”

“The three of them left earlier. They were going sailing in Galveston. Some big boat race.”

“The three of them?”

“You know Max, her brother and the little one, Willa. They went to Galveston to the boat race.”

Jon frowned at him. “Are you saying they’re going to watch boats race or that they’re going to be on the racing boats?”

“That Merrick,” Sherman said. “He’s the big boat racer. He’s got his boat down there and the girls are going to help him race all weekend long.”

Jon drove away thinking that Max was obviously not pining away for him.

When he’d stopped by Cherise’s gallery the night before, she’d told him that Max’s paintings were selling well. Cherise invited him to dine with her, but he’d declined.

He nuked his dinner and listened to Max’s voice on his saved messages. He shook his head as the microwave timer sounded.

Somehow he’d managed to lose her again.

On Saturday, Jon faced a boring day alone. He paid bills and threw away junk mail. By mid-afternoon he was in his car, speeding down the freeway, headed to Galveston.

Anticipating seeing Max made him feel lighthearted. He pushed aside thoughts that she might reject him.

He found the Galveston Yacht Club and learned the location of Merrick Foster’s slip. As he strolled down the wooden pier, the sun warming his skin, he spoke to people on some of the boats as he passed. His spirits were high. He would see Max and get their relationship mended.

It was a beautiful day. A family with teenagers was having a party aboard one boat. He reached the slip where Merrick’s boat was supposed to be docked and found it empty.

Jon tried to stem his disappointment. He’d wanted so badly to see her. To heal the breach between them. He smiled, thinking that the woman he loved was somewhere out in the Gulf, but she would return to this spot at some point in time.

“Young man.”

Jon turned toward the voice. It belonged to a gray-haired woman sunning herself aboard the boat in the neighboring slip.

“If you’re looking for Merrick, he’s gone out.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Jon said. “I was actually looking for his sister.”

“They’re all out there. It’s a regatta weekend.” She motioned to him. “Why don’t you come on board and have some refreshments while we’re waiting? My son is part of Merrick’s team. They won’t be back for a while.”

“That’s very kind of you.” Jon climbed onto the large cabin cruiser. He introduced himself and learned that his hostess’ name was Thelma. “This is a nice rig.”

“My husband, Edward is a fishing fanatic. We’ve been berthed next to Merrick since he first got that boat. He’s a lovely boy.”

Jon murmured assent, thinking of his last encounter with Merrick. He accepted a tall glass from Thelma and sipped the contents.

Thelma raised her glass in a toast to Jon. “I think mimosas are the perfect way to start the day, don’t you?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He surreptitiously glanced at his watch. It was after two o’clock in the afternoon, but Thelma was just now starting her day. “When do you think the race will be over?”

Thelma cast her gaze out to the bay. “It depends on the wind. It’s a pretty light day so the races are taking a little longer. Sometimes they shorten the course if there’s not enough wind.” Thelma smiled at Jon. “Did you go to school with the Foster kids?”

“No, Ma’am.”

“Their parents are coming in this evening from Austin. They should be here in a few hours.”

Jon remembered Max’s description of her parents. “Do you know what Mr. Foster does for a living?”

“I believe both parents work for a pharmaceutical company.” Thelma laughed suddenly almost spilling her drink. “He likes to say he’s a drug pusher. It’s a family joke.”

Jon nodded. He’d had enough of the Foster family jokes and he was tired of being the butt of them.

“If you want to watch the race you can take my binoculars down to the end of the jetty.” Thelma handed Jon an expensive pair of high-powered binoculars.

“How will I know Merrick’s boat?”

“It’s called the Wind Dancer,” she said. “It’s painted on the back in big letters.”

Jon walked to the end of the jetty and searched the procession of boats jockeying for position. He heard the report of a starter’s pistol being fired and the boats raced to cross the start line between two large boats.

He finally spotted the Wind Dancer with Merrick at the helm. He located Willa by her bright hair and finally saw Max working with one of the sails. A lump formed in Jon’s throat as he stared at her. A few seconds later the boat turned in a different direction. He lost sight of Max as the boat became a tiny dot on the water.

Jon felt dejected as he walked back down the jetty to Thelma’s boat. He handed her the binoculars and thanked her for her hospitality.

He returned to his car. This had been a bad idea. It would be best if he saw Max privately, not in a group. If he was going to make a fool of himself again he wanted her to be the only witness.