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

“Kay.” Dottie gave her that pitying look Kay hated.

“You of all people know what they’re like.” Kay stopped herself from heading down that long, winding road filled with parental potholes. “I don’t want to talk about them anymore. I’m fine. Everything is fine. I’m here now. With you…and Walter.” She gave Dottie her brightest smile. “That makes everything perfect.” Kay stirred the gravy. “Speaking of Walter, where is he?”

Dottie checked the clock. “I told him to be home by now. He’s no doubt making a pest out of himself at the inn.”

“I saw all the construction going on over there earlier. Someone’s actually fixing up the old place?”

“Sure ’nough. A nice fella bought the inn last winter. He stopped by the shop not too long after, asking Walt who he’d recommend hiring to do some of the work. Didn’t figure once he’d asked Walter for his opinion, he’d get such a buttinsky. The man has an opinion on just about everything, don’t ya know.”

“Walter likes to help.”

“At least him being over there keeps him out of my hair for a bit.” Dottie pulled a pie out of the oven, browned and bubbling, and set it aside to cool.

Kay gasped. “You made me lucky pie?” Her mouth watered.

“Sure did.”

Dottie’s blueberry pie was legendary for making wishes come true. Kay requested it every year in place of a birthday cake. “But my birthday isn’t for weeks.”

“Still had some blueberries in the freezer from last season. So you’ll get an extra wish this year.”

“Sorry, I’m late, sorry, sorry.” Walter burst through the kitchen doorway and ducked as if he expected Dottie to take a swing at him. “I got chewing the fat with—”

“I told you to be home a half hour ago.” Dottie fussed at him.

He pulled a business card out of his breast pocket. “When ya hear what I got to tell ya, you’ll be happy I’m late.” He handed the card to Kay. “Have your ears been burning?”

“What have you been up to now?” Dottie planted her hands on her hips.

“Just singing Kay’s praises.”

Kay read the warm, cream-colored card pinstriped with a gold border.

BELL HARBOR INN

Barrett Coulter, Owner

Walter jabbed at the card with his finger. “He’s needin’ someone to paint a mural in the lobby. ‘I know a wicked good artist,’ I said. Told him all about that fancy school you’re going to. You were in town for the summer, too. He wants to meet with ya. I don’t know any of the particulars. We didn’t talk money, but he’s not cuttin’ any corners on fixing things up. Wait till ya see. Place is turnin’ out real nice.” He plucked a bit of pot roast off the serving platter and popped it into his mouth giving them both a smug look. “Now, it ain’t a definite, mind ya, but if ya stop in tomorra, ’bout two, he’d like to talk to ya.”

“A mural job? That would be fantastic!” Kay hugged Walter around his middle and peeked over her shoulder at Dottie. “Can we eat our pie first? I think I know what I’ll wish for.”

Chapter Three

Kay dropped her cell phone into her purse. She’d happily let the damn thing die, but because Walter gave it to Mr. Coulter as a contact number, Kay charged it overnight. She found eight messages when she checked this morning. None from Coulter. Good. None from Todd. Even better. Eight from Madeline Sullivan, the art director from the Stoddard School of Art.

Cell phone reception at the cottage was nonexistent, and the landline had been disconnected years ago. She’d wait until she returned to town to retrieve them.

Eight messages from Madeline could only mean really, really good news…or really, really bad. She’d listen to them
after
her meeting.

She ran nervous fingers through her hair as she walked up the sidewalk toward the Bell Harbor Inn. Switching her portfolio from one hand to the next, she brushed a bit of lint off her black sweater. She wanted this job. Who was she kidding, she needed this job. Sketch work was great, but her real passion was murals.

Kay loved working large scale. There was something daring about standing in front of a blank wall with a brush full of paint in your hand. That first stroke. Color against white. It was like jumping into a deep pool and hitting cold water. Part exhilarating and part terrifying. But once in, she would begin to swim…or fly might be the better word. Filling the space. Creating just the right feel to match the room’s purpose. Color upon color. Layer upon layer. From the largest detail to the smallest until she’d filled the wall. Or the ceiling, or the floor, or all of the above.

As Kay approached the hundred-year-old inn, she could see it was receiving a much-needed facelift. New windows, fresh paint, stunning new landscaping. It already looked 100% better than it had. Bright colors and a cheerful street presence made it feel welcoming. A newly painted sign glistened in the afternoon sun. Golden accents complemented the royal blue lettering on a rich cream background. New evergreen shrubs flanked each post. Accent gardens lay tilled and waiting next to the foundation and along the walkway.

Up an impressive set of granite steps, a wide porch led visitors to tall doors wearing a fresh coat of matching royal blue. In true painted-lady style, accent colors of forest green and a touch of deep, rich purple highlighted the dentil moldings and gilded starburst pediments over each window.

A screened porch swept off to the right encompassing the idyllic view of the harbor inlet. Kay could envision guests lounging out there with their glasses of wine to watch the lobster boats coming in after a long day of hauling their traps. Lovely. If this were any indication to the attention to detail inside, the inn would be spectacular.

Before she could knock, a dog barked. Its nails clicked against the floorboards as it came around the corner. Kay recognized the sleek black dog with the goofy grin.

“Shadow?” The dog danced at her feet. Kay laughed as she patted him. “Hey there, boy, what are you doing here? You didn’t run away from the beach, did you? I bet you’re helping with the gardening?” Giving a quick glance around, she expected to find Bear. “Where’s your handsome owner?” The dog’s tail thumped against the floorboards in reply. “I saw you two out running the beach last night. You sure love racing through the water.”

She’d first caught a glimpse of them from her studio window vantage point. The day had been warm, and Bear ran shirtless.
Holy moly!
The man’s shoulders went on for a week. A week and a half if you added the ink decorating the top of his left arm. He’d been too far away to make out the design. What could it be? Maybe a bear? Or a rose with Mom? Or the name of his girlfriend?

She shook her head. Why was she even interested? She had more important things to do. Kay ruffled the dog’s ear before checking her watch. It was two. “Wish me luck, Shadow.”

Kay tapped lightly on the door and entered. The smell of fresh paint and varnish was strong in the lobby. Ladders and tarps were the only decoration, but the space was impressive. Large marble tiles made up the floor with a compass rose pattern inlaid in cobalt blue gracing its center. A wide curving staircase swept up the left side. Its oak banister gleamed under a glossy new coat of finish.

The sound of a saw filtered down from one of the upper floors. Muffled music drifted in from somewhere on the first floor. An antique oak desk peeked out from under a canvas tarp. One corner sat bare to hold notes, files, and what appeared to be architect’s drawings. Kay lifted a page to sneak a look.

“Can I help you?”

“Oh.” Kay spun around. Her heart kicked from zero to sixty at being caught.

Bear stood, paintbrush in one hand, gallon can of polyurethane in the other.
Damn!
He was a mountain of a man.
Bear
suited him. Kay wasn’t tiny, but he towered over her. The broad shoulders she’d been dreaming…er, thinking about moments ago filled out the olive drab T-shirt. Its short sleeves looked painted on where they hugged his biceps. A sprinkling of dark hair along his strong forearms only accentuated the play of veins along those muscles.
Double damn!
Teddy
Bear
he wasn’t. He looked about a cuddly as a steamroller.

“Hey, it’s beach girl.”

“Bear.” She fought the urge to reach out and test the firmness of his arms. “I thought I might find you here.”

He raised an eyebrow and shot her a smile that had her rethinking that warm, fuzzy idea. “You were looking for me?”

“Don’t get any ideas.” She gave him a coy smile in return. “Shadow met me outside.” Kay glanced past him while she pulled the business card from her pocket. Holding it between two fingers, she waved it at him. “I’m here to meet with the owner, Mr. Coulter.”

Bear gave a snort. “Why are you meeting him?”

“You sure do ask a lot of questions.” Kay checked her watch again.

“You sure do like to avoid answers.” The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled.

Kay shrugged. “What can I say; I’m a woman of mystery.”

He laughed. “Most women are a mystery to me.”

“We’re a very hush-hush society. There’s even a secret handshake.” She smiled. “But if I showed you—”

“You’d have to kill me.”

“Exactly.” She glanced around again. “So where can I find Barrett Coulter?”

Bear swept his arms wide. “You found him.”

“You’re Barrett Coulter?” She shook her head and scoffed. “You are not. Quit kidding around. I have an appointment.”

“How can I prove it to you? I’ve got my hands full, but my license is in my wallet.” He turned his hip and offered her his butt. “You’re welcome to fish it out.”

She eyed him suspiciously. He was mocking her. Did he think she wouldn’t dig into his back pocket? She stepped closer and reached behind him. “You just want me to grab your ass. Getting back at me for not telling you my name? Fine, I’ll play your little game.”

This close, she needed to lift her gaze to see the bemused expression on his face. She could smell the soap he used. Mixed with polyurethane it made her a bit lightheaded. She plucked the wallet from his pocket and hopped back.

Giving him her best, eyebrow raised, sassy,
I have you now
smirk, she flipped open the billfold and pulled his license from the warm, worn leather. Reading the thick laminated card made her stomach dropped. “Damn and crap…”

“What’s it say?”

She closed her eyes tight. “It says your name is Barrett Coulter, you’re six foot five, and you’re an organ donor.”

“That would make
you
Kay Winston.”

“Double crap. On a cracker.”

****

Color flooded Kay Winston’s cheeks. God, she was cute when she blushed.

Even with her eyes still shut tight, Bear remembered their deep blue color. When she opened them, she kept her gaze on the floor. “Turn around, please.” She made the circle motion with her finger. He obliged, and she stuffed his wallet back into his pocket. “Shortest interview on record,” she mumbled behind him. “Sorry to bother you.”

He turned back to find her heading away with her portfolio. “Hold on. Don’t run off. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Why don’t you hit the kitchen and help yourself to some coffee, and we can start over.” He held up the brush. “I’ll go clean this.”

She gave him a side glance. “I don’t think—” She shook her head.

“Do you want the job, or don’t you?”

“I do.” She was quick to reply.

“See, answering a question doesn’t have to be so difficult.”

She ran a hand through her hair. The other morning on the beach, she’d had it twisted up off her neck. He liked it better down. It fell past her shoulders and curled at the ends. Was it as soft as it looked? Not many women kept their hair long these days. He liked long. And the dark, honey-blonde color was working for him too. She tucked it behind an ear. A hammered silver star hung from her earlobe. It caught the light.

She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “Okay, let’s start over.”

“Good.” He jerked his chin in the direction of the kitchen. “Door’s that way. Watch your step, there’s a ton of supplies out there. Can’t miss the coffeemaker. Give me a minute, and I’ll meet you in the dining room. Swinging doors with porthole windows. Right side. Can’t miss it.”

Five minutes later, he’d grabbed a cup of coffee for himself and sat with her at one of the square tables scattered about the dining room.

“This is wonderful. Cozy, intimate.” Her gaze traveled around the space. “The view is spectacular, and the colors are great. Rich, yet muted.”

“This was the first room to be finished, paint wise. The linens are due next week.”

“I can picture couples eating here. Holding hands. Staring into each other’s eyes over the rim of their wineglasses. Celebrating anniversaries, having first dates, maybe lovers from out of town who come here once a year to have their affair.”

“You get all that from some muted paint and new drapes?” he teased, yet he was enjoying seeing the room through her eyes. With all the details and scheduling and grunt work, sometimes it was hard for him to appreciate what others might think of the place.

“Sure, where’s your imagination?”

“Oh, I have plenty of imagination. I’m imagining a kitchen staff that knocks out something other than boiled lobster. I’m imagining all the business I’m losing by not opening in time for tourist season. And I’m imagining the day I can stand back and say, ‘There, it’s done.’ ”

“You’ll finish it. So you miss this summer. Maybe you’ll be open to catch the fall foliage people. Bell Harbor is stunning in the fall and beautiful in the winter, too.” Her dark eyes met his over the rim of her coffee mug.

“I agree.” He wished he had her optimism. “I fell in love with this place when my wife and I vacationed here several years ago.”

She set her coffee aside. “So, you’re married.”

“Not anymore. Diane and I split. Not too long after that vacation, actually. We own—owned an architectural design firm in Los Angeles. She thrived on the constant push and pressure. Me, not so much. We met in college. Got married. Moved to LA.”

“She’s still in California?”

“Yep. We talk. It ended amicably as soon as I signed over the business to her. But no regrets. It wasn’t the life for me.” He shook his head. “How did we get from drapes to my divorce?”