The Art of Love (The Windswept Saga) (3 page)

“Rafe Rader?”  Her eyebrows shot skyward.  “T
hat scrawny guy we saw in concert?”

Chandler laughed and nodded.  “That scrawny guy
has a beautiful log home in East Tennessee and a fat bank account.”

“And a wall of platinum albums.”  Taylor smiled.
“Yeah, I remember him.  Okay, I’ll work for you.  One condition, though.”

“Name it.”

“Don’t pry into my personal life, Chandler.  If I want to share with you, I will.  But don’t go behind my back or force me to open up.  I’m your employee, and you’re my boss.”

“Deal.”  He slid his thumb around and they shook
on it.  “Do you want the fifty-cent tour?”

Taylor shook her head and glanced toward the door.  “Tomorrow.  I’ll be here at eight AM and we can take care of it then.”

Chandler relinquished her hand after what felt like an eternity.  “I’ll see you then.  And, Taylor?”

“Yes?”  She was halfway out the door, but turned back and gave him her best smile.

“Say hello to your mom for me.”

“Sure thing.”  She smiled again, closed-mouth this time.  “See you tomorrow.”

“See ya.”

Chandler exhaled sharply, suddenly cogniza
nt that he’d all but stopped breathing the moment she reentered his life.     

***

Taylor was only mildly annoyed with her mother; Alice had meant no harm in her employment/matchmaking endeavor, but Taylor was more than capable of holding some semblance of a life together.  She laid her keys and purse down on the console table and went into the living room to speak with her mother.  Instead she found Alice transfixed by the television, watching her favorite soap opera.

“Mom, I have a bone to pick with you.
”

“Not now, sweetheart—my story is on.”  She lifted one finger to quiet her daughter.  “Raven just found out that Mitch is sleeping with her sister.”

Taylor found a place beside her mother, in the other matching wingback chair, and maneuvered her eyes toward the television screen.  Whatever had gone wrong in her life, she was thankful to have never played out such a dramatic scene.  Life had torn her and Liam apart, not another woman.  The next commercial break heralded the return of Alice’s attention, however briefly, to her daughter.

“You had a bone to pick with me.”

Taylor laughed at the image that popped into her head.  “You left out the smallest detail when you sent me down to that art gallery to respond to the job opening.”

Alice feigned confusion. 
“I clipped the ad out for you if you’d like to reread it.  I didn’t provide any information that wasn’t given.”

She replied to her mother with a sarcastic grin.  “You neglected to mention that Chandler Adams was the proprietor of that establishment.”

“I did?”

“Yes, Mom, you did.”

Her gaze drifted back toward the TV, but a commercial blocked her from nipping the conversation in two.  “Taylor, honey, when you dated that boy he was cute.  Now, though, he is
fine
.”  Taylor stifled a guffaw at her mother’s description of Chandler’s looks.  “He’s single, has good morals, excellent manners, and possesses more talent and ambition than any young man I’ve ever known.”

She examined her mother’s words and summoned a mental picture of her ex-boyfriend:  short, tidy
blonde hair; endless blue eyes; great smile; and taller than her by good margin.  Liam could look directly in her eyes, but Chandler always had to duck his head for her, pull her into his arms for a kiss.  Holy hell, where did
that
memory come from?  “He was handsome, Mom, and it was nice to see him again, but…”

“But?”

“This is not the time for romance.  A man trying to get a business up and running doesn’t need that kind of distraction.  And a divorcée trying to figure out what to do without her only child would merely be a distraction.”

“You turned him down?”  Alice rubbernecked toward the TV.  “Raven, you idiot, you should have stuck with Blade!”

Taylor studied the program along with her mother—she knew the characters, too, and had a passing knowledge of their plights.  “I said I’d take the job,” she murmured on the next ad break.

Alice’s face lit up with surprised joy.  “I thought you had a bone to pick with me, but you wound up getting hired.”

“He insisted I was the first person to show up who possessed any sort of clerical skills.”

“Naturally,” Alice responded.  “He turns them away, but don’t think women don’t notice him.  He’s not hurting for money, either.  Any woman would be lucky to have him.”  Taylor rolled her eyes, kind of taken aback at her mothe
r’s attempts to sell Chandler on her.  It was all unnecessary, of course—she’d known a long time ago that he was cut from a different cloth than most.

“I loved Chandler for who he was, not what he could give me.  I always knew that he was going places, and
likely without me.  That’s why I didn’t pursue a long-distance relationship with him.”

“Uh-huh.”  Alice stared, bemused, as Raven chucked her
engagement ring at Mitch’s forehead and bolted out the foyer of his mansion.  “You got scared, dear.  I’m not saying Liam wasn’t a good husband for you, because he was.  I adored how sweet he was to you and how good he was with Riley.  That life is gone forever, though, and it’s time for you to stop lying to yourself.”  The announcer prompted her to tune in tomorrow for the next installment, and she muted the television.  “I’m not trying to be mean, Taylor.”

“I know.”  She nodded in understanding.  “There’s not a mean or malicious bone in your body.”  She rested her elbow atop the arm of the chair, and placed her chin
in hand.   “You only want me to be happy.”

Alice laced her fingers together and smiled sympathetically.  “I don’t expect you to do jumping jacks on the front lawn, but some time away from the house can only help.”

“And I won’t keep interrupting your soap.”

“Exactly.”

Both women laughed.  “Okay,” Taylor said, rising to her feet, “I am going to do some research for my new career.”

Alice’s mouth quirked up on one side.  “Romantic research?”

Taylor frowned.  “Hardly.  I’d like to see how hard it is to run an art gallery.”

“Have fun.”  Taylor watched as her mom searched through the digital recorder.  Some people replayed touchdowns; others, daytime drama.

“Thanks, Mom.”

***

Chandler stepped across the threshold and found the house silent, quiet and peaceful.  A rare occurrence, given the amount of life that’d passed through these walls over the years.  He removed his hat and hung it up before he crossed into the living room.  He could hear the keystrokes of the computer, the first sign of life.

“In here, Chandle
r,” his mother called out from behind the French door, slightly ajar.  He stuck his head in the door and smiled.  Bryn was blogging with one hand and editing a manuscript with the other.  She never stopped, never slowed down, except when absolutely necessary.  He admired her abilities and knew he’d inherited his proclivity for multitasking from her.

“How’d you know it was me, Mom?”

Bryn pushed her eyeglasses up her nose and laughed softly.  Her long silver hair was corralled down her back and a pencil was stuck atop one ear.  “Your brother walks with no hurry in his step, like a man completely at ease and content with his life.  Your sister has steps that are firm and solid, and, being the shortest, takes smaller strides.  And you, my baby, walk everywhere with a purpose.”  She frowned and hit the page with her pencil’s eraser.  “Also, you usually smell like varnish.”  Bryn glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and smiled.  He may have hated being called a baby, but that’s still how she saw him, no matter how tall he’d grown.  The town’s newest entrepreneur was still her youngest bundle of joy.

Chandler sat awkwardly on the arm of the couch that folded out into a guest bed.  With the nest empty it seemed unnecessary, but this was Bryn’s office and her d
ecision to keep old furniture around was none of his business.  He swallowed hard and steeled himself.  “Mom, why didn’t you tell me that Riley died?”

He watched as Bryn’s back stiffened.  She didn’t turn to face him, though, when her reply came forth.  “I
didn’t quite see the point.  That period of your life was over for good and I didn’t know if you were ever coming home to stay.  Taylor had a husband to lean on, which is exactly how it should have been.”  He noted that she’d posted her latest blog and shut down her computer.  “And, honestly, I didn’t even know where you were.  Do you remember?”

He cleared his throat, but spoke in a hoarse, wounded tone.  “I thought Amsterdam at first.  Then I did some mental calculations and realized I was in Kentucky, wi
th Dr. Devane.  I could have caught a flight home.”

Bryn rubbed her forehead, overcome with a twinge of guilt.  “He’s buried next to her father, in the cemetery.  I was wrong not to tell you, wasn’t I?”

Chandler pursed his lips together before expelling a sharp breath.  “She’s divorced and living with Miss Alice again.”    

She wheeled around in her chair and smiled as their eyes met.  “You saw her.”

“She came into the gallery, asking about my job posting.  Miss Alice’s handiwork.”

Bryn smiled, more
pensively this time.  “I always adored Taylor.”

“But?”

“She has experienced unimaginable pain.  To lose her father, her child, and her marriage, all in the space of ten years?  I wouldn’t be upright after that.  I’d be in a dark room somewhere.”

“
You don’t think should have given her the job.”

“I’m not saying that, Chandler.  You are your own man.”  She held her open palm out to him.  “Tread lightly.  Give the woman room to breathe.  If romance is going to happen, let it happen in its own time.  I don’t kno
w if there’s still a spark between the two of you but…I imagine there is.  It can be hard to turn off feelings of first love.”

Chandler was well aware of the feelings she’d stirred inside him, but he didn’t feel comfortable sharing those with his mother. 
Not at this juncture.  “I loved her.”

Bryn nodded.  “I know you did.  People change, though.  Ten years is a very long time and you’ve lived separate lives.  Hers was likely very happy until it turned sad.  Yours was fulfilled but lonely, solitary.”  Chand
ler had never been great at keeping his emotions from displaying across his face like the headlines on newsprint; even when he tried for an impartial countenance, his mother could read him like a book.  “I can see that you’re a little hurt by the omission.  Any of us could have told you but it might have been more straightforward coming from me.  The death of a child is never easy but you’re more sensitive than most.”

“I’m not mad, Mom.  I’m just…conflicted.  I’m not sure what I feel.”

“You feel like fate has given you a second chance.”

He nodded slowly.  “And I feel guilty.  My feelings for her, whatever they were, whatever they might be in the future—they hinge on a tragic event in her life.”

“Do you think you have feelings for her, after today?”  Bryn removed her eyeglasses and laid them on the desk.

Chandler shook his head breathlessly.  “Any man would be a fool not to, Mom.  She’s beautiful.  I almost can’t believe how beautiful she’s become over the years.  It was like…seeing her for the first time, all
over again.  Does that make sense?”

“Complete sense.  I’ve fallen in love with your father, oh, forty times now.”  She laughed and Chandler joined in.

“Speaking of, where is the old man today?”

“Your father is out in the knee-deep snow with your brother,
and Sam and Mark, checking the herd.”

Chandler’s eyebrows shot upward.  “And you didn’t try to stop him?”

“Me, stop your father?  When Chase Adams puts his mind to it, he tells me what he’s doing and then goes out and does it.”

“Single-minded determinednes
s.  That’s what I inherited from Dad.”

“Uh-huh.  Also, that was redundant.”

“I know, Mom.  And thanks.”

Bryn smiled.  “For what?”  He stood, bent down, and kissed her on the forehead.

“For being the best mother ever.”

She smiled brightly and watched him
go.  She’d worry about him—always—but also knew he had a good head on his shoulders.  He’d get his heart on board, too.

Eventually.

Chapter 3

Christa opened the front door and smiled up at her younger brother.  “And to what do we owe this surprise visit, city boy?”

He grinned at her teasing remarks.  “I came by to see your husband.  And maybe a nephew or two.”
Christa laughed.  “Follow me.”

He’d barely passed the threshold when Max lit into his arms like a bolt of lightning.  “Uncle Chandler!”