Their gazes flew to her.
“You met Sam and you never mentioned it?” Justine asked.
“Well, it was only one time, and it was very brief. I had no idea you knew him.”
“I’ve been friends with Sam forever.”
“Why hasn’t he ever dropped by here?” Zoл asked.
“Sam’s been crazy-busy for a couple of years, ever since he started the vineyard. He’s got a crew, but he does a lot of the work himself.” Justine’s attention returned to Lucy. “Tell me how you met him.”
Lucy set out wineglasses on a sideboard as she replied. “I was out riding my bike, and I sort of … stopped for a minute. We had a quick conversation. It wasn’t a big deal.”
“Justine, why aren’t you going out with him?” Zoл asked.
“I did in middle school, after your family moved to Everett. It was one of those summer flings. Once school started, it sort of evaporated. Sam and I have been friends ever since.” Justine paused. “The thing about Sam is, he’s not a long-term guy. He’s not looking to get serious with anyone. He’s a free spirit. Very upfront about never wanting to get married.” A strategic pause. “Just ask Denise Rausman.”
Lucy recognized the name of a stunning blond television reporter who had recently been voted as Seattle’s Hottest News Babe. “He went out with her?”
“Yes, she has a vacation house near Roche Harbor, and she and Sam had quite a thing going for almost a year. She was wild about him. But she couldn’t get him to commit, and she finally gave up. And then there was Laura Delfrancia.”
“Who’s she?” Zoл asked.
“The head of Pacific Mountain Capital … she invests in all these early-stage companies in hi-tech and clean-energy fields. She’s classy and loaded, and she couldn’t persuade Sam to get serious with her either.”
“It’s hard to imagine that kind of woman chasing after Sam Nolan,” Zoл said. “He had a lot of geekitude to overcome.”
“In defense of geeks,” Justine said, “they’re great in bed. They fantasize a lot, so they’re really creative. And they love to play with gadgets.” As the other two started laughing, Justine handed them glasses of wine. “Here. Whatever else you may say about Sam, he makes fantastic wine.”
“This is one of his?” Lucy asked, swirling the rich garnet vintage in her glass.
“It’s called ‘Keelhaul,’” Justine said. “A Shiraz-Cab.”
Lucy took a sip. The wine was amazingly smooth, the fruit strong but silky, the finish mocha-inflected. “This is good,” she said. “It would be worth going out with him to get bottles of this for free.”
“Did you give Sam your number?” Justine asked.
Lucy shook her head. “Kevin had just dumped me.”
“No problem. I can set you up with Sam now. As long as Zoл has no objections.”
“None,” Zoл said distinctly. “I’m not interested.”
Justine let out an exasperated laugh. “Your loss, Lucy’s gain.”
“I’m not interested either,” Lucy said. “It’s only been two months since my breakup. And the rule is that you have to wait for exactly half the time of the relationship … which for me would be about a year.”
“That’s not the rule,” Justine exclaimed. “You only have to wait one month for each year of the relationship.”
“I think all these rules are ridiculous,” Zoл said. “Lucy, you should let your instincts guide you. You’ll know when you’re ready again.”
“I don’t trust my instincts where men are concerned,” Lucy said. “It’s like this article I read the other day about the decline of the firefly population. One of the reasons they’re disappearing is because of modern artificial lighting. Fireflies can’t find the signals of their mates, because they’re so distracted by porch lights, streetlamps, illuminated sign letters…”
“Poor things,” Zoл said.
“Exactly,” Lucy said. “You think you’ve found the perfect mate and you head for him, blinking as fast as you can, and then you find out he’s a Bic lighter. I just can’t handle that again.”
Justine shook her head slowly as she looked at the two of them. “Life is a banquet, and you are both wandering around with chronic indigestion.”
* * *
After helping the Hoffmans to set up for the reading party, Lucy went up to her room. Sitting cross-legged on the bed with her laptop, she checked her e-mail, and found a message from a former professor and mentor, Dr. Alan Spellman. He had recently been appointed as the arts and industry coordinator at the world-renowned Mitchell Art Center in New York.
Dear Lucy,
Remember the Artist in Residence program I mentioned last time we talked? A full year, all expenses paid, working with artists from all around the world. You would be perfect for it. I believe you have a unique sense of glass as a medium, whereas too many modern artists overlook its illusory possibilities. This grant would give you the freedom to experiment in ways that would be difficult—if not impossible—for you in your current circumstances.
Let me know if you decide to give it a shot. The application form is attached. I’ve already put in a word for you, and they’re excited about the chance to make something happen.
Best,
Alan Spellman
The chance of a lifetime—a year in New York to study and experiment with glass.
Clicking on a link at the bottom of the e-mail, Lucy glanced over the application requirements—a one-page proposal, a cover letter, and twenty digital images of her work. For one tantalizing moment, she let herself think about it.
A new place … a new beginning.
But the likelihood of being chosen over all the other applicants was so slight that she wondered why she was even bothering.
Who are you, to think you have a chance at this? she asked herself.
But then another thought occurred to her … Who are you, to not at least try?
Seven
“I need to talk to you, Lucy,” her mother had said on the answering machine. “Call me when you get a minute in private. Please don’t put this off, it’s important.”
Despite the urgency in her mother’s voice, Lucy hadn’t yet returned the call. She had no doubt that the message had something to do with Alice, and she wanted just one day of not thinking or talking about her younger sister. Instead she had spent the afternoon packing her latest finished pieces and taking them to a couple of shops in Friday Harbor.
“Wonderful,” Susan Seburg, a shop manager and a friend, exclaimed as she viewed the selection of glass mosaic pieces that Lucy had brought. It was a series of women’s shoes: pumps, high-heeled sandals, wedges, and even a pair of sneakers. They were all made of glass, tile, crystals, and beads. “Oh, I wish I could actually wear them! You know someone’s going to come in and buy the entire set at once. Lately I can’t keep your work on the shelves—it sells as soon as I set it out.”
“That’s good to hear,” Lucy said.
“There’s something so charming and … I don’t know, special … about your recent stuff. A couple of customers are thinking of asking you to do something on commission.”
“That’s great. I can always use the work.”
“Yes, it’s good to stay busy.” Setting down the accent lamp, Susan gave her a compassionate look. “I imagine it helps to keep your mind off what’s happening.” Seeing Lucy’s blank expression, she clarified, “With Kevin Pearson and your sister.”
Lucy dropped her gaze to her phone schedule planner. “You mean the two of them living together?”
“That, and the wedding.”
“Wedding?” Lucy repeated faintly. It seemed as if a sheet of ice had instantly formed beneath her feet. Any direction she tried to go in, she was guaranteed to slip and fall.
Susan’s face changed. “You didn’t know? Shit. I’m sorry, Lucy, I would never have wanted to be the one to tell you.”
“They’re engaged?” Lucy couldn’t believe it. How had Alice managed to convince Kevin to make such a commitment? “I don’t mind the idea of getting married, someday,” he had once told Lucy, “but it’s not something I’d ever rush into. I mean, I’m willing to stay with someone, by choice, for a long time. But how exactly is that different from marriage?”
“It’s a different level,” Lucy had said.
“Maybe. Or maybe it’s just some goal that other people have set for us. Do we really need to buy into that?”
Apparently now he was buying into it. Because of Alice. Did this mean he truly loved her?
It wasn’t that Lucy was jealous. Kevin had cheated on her, and would likely cheat in his future relationships. But the news made her wonder what was wrong with her. Maybe Alice had been right—Lucy was a control freak. Maybe she would drive away any man who was foolish enough to love her.
“I’m sorry,” Susan said again. “Your sister’s been driving around the island with a wedding planner. They’re checking out locations.”
The phone was trembling in her hand. Lucy put it into her bag and attempted a smile that came out as a grimace. “Well,” she said, “now I know why my mother left a message for me this morning.”
“All the color’s gone out of your face. Come to the back with me—I’ve got soft drinks, or I could make some coffee—”
“No. Thanks, Susan, but I’m going to call it a day.” The mass of emotion had begun to separate into layers. Sadness, bewilderment, anger.
“Is there something I can do?” she heard Susan ask.
Lucy shook her head instantly. “I’m fine. I’m really fine.” Readjusting the strap of her bag over her shoulder, she headed to the front door of the shop. She paused as Susan spoke again.
"Rainshadow Road" отзывы
Отзывы читателей о книге "Rainshadow Road". Читайте комментарии и мнения людей о произведении.
Понравилась книга? Поделитесь впечатлениями - оставьте Ваш отзыв и расскажите о книге "Rainshadow Road" друзьям в соцсетях.