Against the Wall (Stoddard Art School Series Book 3) (4 page)

“Hey, Bear.” A workman stood at the doorway of the dining room. “Sorry to bother you.” He jerked his chin toward Kay. “Hey.”

She grinned back. “Hi.”

“Did you need something, Skippy? Or just coming to say, hey?”

“No, no. Which molding you want for the cap on the wainscoting? Up on four. The bullnose?”

“No. Match the hall trim.”

“Yessah.” Skippy saluted Bear with the hammer he held and left. Kay winced.

Bear huffed out a breath. “I hate when he does that. One of these days, he’s going to bean himself in the head. ’Course that’s better than when he scratches his ear with his screwdriver.”

Kay bit her lip to keep from laughing.

“Okay, where were we?”

“Drapes to divorce.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pried.”

He waved it away and took a swallow of coffee. Opening his planner, Bear checked through his notes. “Back to the interview. What is this, start over two or three? I’ve lost track.”

“If you count me making an idiot out of myself, this would be number three.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “I set you up. Walt described you perfectly. I knew who you were when you walked in. When you turned out to be beach girl, I couldn’t help myself.”

“Walter calls you Yogi.” Kay pointed at him.

“Has since the first day we met. I kinda like it now.”

She shook her head. “I should have put two and two together. Bear…Yogi…”

“Quite the character, that Walt. He raves about you being a
wicked good
artist.”

She shifted in her chair and sipped at her coffee. “He’s prejudiced. He loves me.”

“It’s obvious. He’s showed me a few of your pen and ink sketches. I liked them a lot. There’s something so familiar in them. Comforting. You capture this area so well. Not just visually, but it’s like you understand the spirit of the place.”

“Thank you.” Her cheeks pinked again and she dropped her gaze. “Bell Harbor’s my home away from home. I’ve always liked the feel here. The ease of things. Even when it’s packed with tourists, they’re happy and relaxed.”

He grinned. “Sometimes too relaxed, like when you’re trying to get an inn open.”

Her eyes met his. “Folks here don’t like to move too quickly.”

“Nothing like LA.”

“No, I would say Bell Harbor, Maine, is the exact opposite of Los Angeles,” she agreed, looking sympathetic. “I don’t work at LA speed either, but I do work rather quickly. Tell me what you’re envisioning for the lobby project. I’m assuming you’d like the back wall done.”

“Yep, that and all the rest. I’d like all four walls painted.”

Her eyes widened. “That’s quite the job.”

“Would you be able to handle that?”

“Of course. I’ve done jobs this size before.” The sparkle in Kay’s eye made him smile. She slid her portfolio onto the table and unzipped the case. “These are my murals.” She pulled out conceptual sketches as well as finished photographs. “I’ve done several full-room commissions.” She laid examples across the table. Her enthusiasm was contagious.

“Your work is very diverse.”

“Each job is different. I try to meet the client’s wishes while at the same time bringing my own artistic voice to the project.” She pulled a listing out of the back of the portfolio. “Here are my references. Clients, professors, etc.”

Bear took the offered sheet. “Impressive.” He examined the photographs again. Even though each mural captured their settings perfectly, her paintings all carried a unique styling.

Why did her work feel so familiar? It was as if they’d met before, but he sure as hell wouldn’t have forgotten her. “What if the client doesn’t know what they want?”

Kay smiled as if this wasn’t an unusual occurrence. “I ask a lot of questions, listen to what their plans are for the space, and come up with some ideas that I think will fit.”

No, he would have remembered her smile. She leaned to pull a small spiral notebook out of her bag giving him a ring-side view of creamy cleavage within the V of her black sweater. He was wrong. Cute didn’t describe her at all. Blushing or not, she was beautiful. Refined, understated, with a definite hint of daring. He’d have to keep on his toes with her around. Why did he all of a sudden envision being swept off his feet? “I’d like to hear your ideas for my lobby.”

“Well, I’m already getting a sense for the style you’re going with. Antiqued, yet elegant. Four walls, soft colors…” She tucked her hair behind each ear. Wait, her earrings didn’t match. A silver star paired with the crescent moon. Tapping the end of her pen, she glanced toward the front of the inn. “You don’t want anything too bold when you first walk in.” She scribbled a few notes. “Seasons, possibly. With the compass rose—four winds, perhaps…hmmm… vignettes, could work. A bit of trompe l’oeil possibly.” She jotted one idea after another into her notebook. Bear sat back in amused silence. She was captivating to watch.

“I’d need to take some measurements, but I could sketch out a few things for you along with an estimate, say by Friday?” Kay pulled a thirty-foot tape measure out of her purse.

A woman with a tape measure? Be still my heart.
“Friday would be great. I’ve got the room’s specs. I can give you a copy of the blueprints.”

“Perfect.” Her smile lit her face and slammed him in the chest.

Yep, damn near perfect.

Chapter Four

Kay almost ran down the sidewalk toward her car. Through her nervousness, the familiar bubbling of excitement filtered to the surface. The full lobby of the inn? Her mind was already reeling with possible designs. Slipping into the warm car, she thawed her chilled hands on the steering wheel.

Bear Coulter owned the inn? Hunky Bear Coulter? Hunky, please-let-me-see-your-tattoo Coulter? Kay let out a shaky breath. She hadn’t seen his tattoo, but she’d felt his ass! Her head was spinning at how the interview had gone from mortifying to
When can you start?
If she wanted to keep from making a total fool out of herself, she needed to remember the golden rule. This was a job. He was a customer. And you should
never
feel the ass of your customers. Not twice, anyway.

But then he shook her hand good-bye, that big paw of his engulfed her fingers. It sent lovely electric shimmers up her arm…and straight to her knees. He walked her to the door, his hand resting casually on the small of her back… That small touch had shot more than shimmers to a place slightly north of her knees.

He’s a client. He’s a client. He’s a client!

Watching the charming bustle of the small village of Bell Harbor through her windshield, Kay came up with an inspired idea for the mural. She could picture the whole scene in her mind. She had to get it all down on paper. A visit to the library would be necessary. They closed early on Wednesdays, however, so she’d go there first thing in the morning.

Kay pushed her keys into the ignition when her phone vibrated in her bag. Hearing the low hum, she dug past blueprints and her portfolio and scrambled to find her cell at the bottom of her purse.

“Kay Winston.”

“Thank God. Kay, where are you?” Madeline Sullivan’s husky voice screamed at her from the receiver. “I’ve the whole town of Stoddard searching for you.”

“Calm down, Madeline. I’m in Maine.”

“Why the hell are you in Maine?”

Kay wasn’t about to get into the particulars about her escape from Stoddard. She reloaded her purse and ran a hand over the blueprints. “I’ve found a mural job over here in Bell Harbor. I’m staying at my folk’s place.”

“I’ve been trying to reach you for days.”

“I noticed your messages, all eight of them. I was going to call you after my client meeting. What’s so urgent?”

“I have news. Good news.”

“That’s the best kind. What’s up?” Kay turned the key in the ignition enough to open some windows. The warmth of the afternoon was heating up her car.”

“Two things. First, I got you into Luc Girard’s class for the fall semester.”

“Wow.” Luc Girard was a Stoddard alumnus. His blown glasswork was brilliant. “Everybody wanted that class. Wasn’t there a waiting list?”

“There was, but grad students got pushed to the top. I worked a little magic.”

Kay smiled. Madeline was famous for her
magic
. “That’s wonderful.”

“So I moved your Tuesday and Thursday schedule around a bit, but you’re in.”

Kay didn’t know where she’d be eating and sleeping come the new semester, but at least she knew what she’d be doing on Tuesdays and Thursdays. “That’s great, thanks.”

“And even better…are you sitting down?”

“I’m sitting.” Kay shook her head. Madeline was also famous for her theatrics. Kay fumbled for her water bottle.

“Your painting. The lighthouse one. What was it called?” Papers rustled in the background. Kay pictured Madeline in her cluttered office. Every flat place piled high with artwork, paperwork, a half-eaten sandwich, and a bobble head Andy Warhol… “
Point of Light
. One of your Bruce Gallery pieces.”

“Yes?” A flush of optimism raced through Kay as she found the bottle of water she was searching for under the passenger seat.

“It sold.”

“Honest?” The
Point of Light
piece was special to Kay. She had a momentary twinge of sadness at the news. It had been the star of her portfolio when she’d interviewed for the graduate program at Stoddard School of Art, but she’d loved it long enough. It was time to sell it.

“Yep, it caused quite a ruckus. Two parties wanted it. Bad. It went into a bidding war.”

“You’re kidding.” Kay uncapped the water, took a sip, and grimaced. It was warm and tasted like plastic, but it was wet.

“Nope. Some woman from Cape Cod, and a guy. I forget where he was from, but his pockets were deep and he wanted that painting. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. Daniel Bruce was thrilled, to say the least.”

“That’s awesome. I’m flattered.”

“How’s six grand for flattery?”

Kay choked. “I’m sorry, I could have sworn you said six grand.”

“I did. Six thousand, seven hundred and twenty dollars. I have the Bruce Gallery check right here. That’s eight thousand minus sixteen percent commission. Daniel only charges students half.”

Eight thousand?
Kay’s mouth opened and closed like a dying fish. She had no words. Screaming might work, but words? Nope.

“Kay? Did you hear me?”

“Ahhh…yeah, I heard you. I’m waiting to wake up now.”

“You’re not dreaming. Check your hands.”

“Hands? What?” Her brain was jumbled, and Madeline was giving her whiplash.

“They say if you look at your hands in your dreams, they’re all weird.”

What?
Kay examined her fingers. Ten normal-looking fingers. “Shit, I’m not dreaming.”

“Told you. Congratulations.”

Kay let out a screech and frightened two elderly women who were passing on the sidewalk. “Sorry. Sorry.” She waved to them. “Oh my God, Madeline, I…this is unbelievable.”

“Highest sale in the whole show. You should be very proud.”

“I am. Add stunned. Thrilled. Oh my God!”

“So I guess you can’t swing by and get this check.”

For a second, Kay actually considered driving the three hours back to Stoddard. “I’m not exactly in
swing by
territory.”

“Okay, let me find a pen. I’ll pop it in the mail. Where are you?”

Kay gave Madeline the address for Polka Dots. “Send it in care of Dorothy Polk.”

“Got it. I’ll post it today. You should have it in a couple of days. Do me a favor and let me know when you get it. And don’t fall off the face of the earth again. You had me worried.”

“Don’t worry, Maddie, I’ll let you know the minute I get it.”

“Good. Congratulations, Kay.”

Kay checked for little old ladies before she screeched again. “Ahhhhhhhh!” She moved to uncap her water, sobered, and tossed it over one shoulder into the backseat with a wicked grin. Snatching her purse, she jumped out of the car and headed at a half run down the block.

With a bottle of the best champagne she could find at Fred’s Shop Hop, and two dozen deep purple Japanese irises (Dottie’s favorites) that she purchased at Seaside Floral Fantasy, Kay sent the bells clanging as she rushed into Polka Dots.

Dottie dropped the carton of beeswax lip gloss she was stocking and slapped a hand to her chest. “Kay, for goodness s—”

“What the
hell
do you put in that pie?”

****

Kay stretched her arms high over her head as she stepped out onto the back deck. The sky was beginning to lighten. She zipped her hoodie against the damp chill of the morning and leaned her elbows on the railing easing the stiffness in her back.

So excited when she returned home from Dottie’s, she’d worked through the night laying out her idea for the inn’s mural. Her mind had been too busy to consider trying to sleep, but the work was good. She hoped Bear would like her suggestions.

Most of the time, her ability to
read
a job was spot on. Visiting the location of the mural would give the feel of the space, the owner’s favorite colors, their vision for the piece. Of course, there were those handful of times when she was dead wrong about a painting. She’d been asked to create a desert sunset once and came back to the client with a lovely sketch in soft pastels. Nope. The client envisioned something more striking. Bright purple for the mesas, deep teal for the cactus, and orange with fuchsia swirls for the sky. They wanted bold. Bold is what they got.

A rustling in the underbrush to the left of the deck caught Kay’s attention. Chipmunk. But then the chipmunk…mewed? A dirty, raggedy kitten pushed past the leaves to sit on one of the lower stairs. It scratched itself with a hind leg. Hard to tell in the dim light what color it was. Palest orange, or filthy white. One ear dipped lower than the rest and bore a nick in its edge. The poor thing’s ribs and hip bones stuck out.

“Hey, little one.” At the sound of Kay’s voice, the cat shot back into the bushes. “No, no, I won’t hurt you.” She moved down a few stairs. “Here, kitty, kitty.” No amount of coaxing could lure the kitten from its hiding space.

Kay went back and rummaged through the cabinets. Minutes later, she brought out a can of tuna and a bowl of fresh water. She placed them on the stairs. “I’ll just leave these here. You must be hungry. This is the good people tuna. Don’t get too used to the high life, not yet anyway. If you’d like to stick around, keep me company, I promise I’ll keep you in kibble. When Daniel Bruce’s check arrives, it will be premium kibble at that.” Wide green eyes stared at her from under a fern. Seemed fear overruled hunger. “Okay, I’ll leave you be and hope for the best.”