Hungry for Love (77 page)

“Being in shock is normal.”

“I guess.”

“I think you’re doing very well.  You got a job, a new car.  You seem to be very strong, to be taking charge of your life.  I admire that.” 

“Me?  Gosh, I don’t know.”  She wondered how he could have such a good impression of her from so little, and then confessed, “I usually feel terrified.”

“Starting over can feel so hard, once you’ve made a mistake.  Nobody wants to screw up at all, let alone more than once.”

“It must have taken a lot of courage for you to come back here, to leave everything you were used to for so long.”

Doug’s voice lowered so that no one could overhear, “My dad asked me to come and help him with the business.  I felt it was the right thing to do.  Besides, there was nothing holding me in
Atlanta
on a daily basis any longer.  I can drive up and see my kids any time I want to, but they’re busy with their own lives now.”

“Are they both married?”

“Betsy is—she’s the oldest—a teacher.  Philip is in law school.  His last year.”

Annabeth smiled.  “Oh, how nice.  My oldest—
Laurel
—is a display person at Saks in
New Orleans
.  Sally works at the bank up the street, but all she wants is to be married.  Actually it was her engagement party that you saw at Maggie’s.  Of course now those plans are up in the air, but I’m sure it will all work out.”

Doug shook his head.  “Who would have thought that we’d be parents of grown children, sitting here talking about adults who used to be our little kids?”

“Feel old?”

“I don’t know, kind of, not old exactly, just incomplete.  But I don’t want to depress you.  After all, it’s you going through the divorce, not me.  Tell me, how are you doing with your art?”

“I don’t really do all that much.”

“You’re kidding.”

  “Well, I paint on furniture sometimes.  Flea market junk that I decorate.  Just for fun. Though I just finished painting some pieces for Etta’s Knick Knack Shop around the corner.”

“You know I always thought you were so talented.  I expected you to do great things.”

“Me?  Nah!”

Annabeth thought about the evening as she drove home.  She’d had a good time.  It was pleasant to spend time talking to people she didn’t know well, pleasant to get to know new people better.  She glanced at the dashboard clock.  Gracious!  It was after midnight.  She had been talking with Doug for more than three hours.  How quiet Gull’s Perch was this late in the evening.  So few cars were out and most of the houses were darkened.  She turned into Old Magnolia Bayou, and she rounded the corner to pull up in front of her house, which oddly was brightly lit.  Sally’s car was out in front as was
Jackson
’s.  Annabeth parked and walked toward her front door, but even before she could reach it, Sally came racing out.

“Mom!  Where in the world have you been?  I’ve been frantic.  I just called
Jackson
to come over and start looking for you.  I was an inch away from calling the police.”

Annabeth reached her arm out and encircled Sally’s shoulders in a calming gesture.  “I went for a burger with Charles Gleason.  Then I ran into Doug Hawkins—you know the one who sold me my car—my old high school friend.  We got to talking and the time just passed.  I’m sorry you were worried.”

“What were you thinking staying out so late without calling?”

Annabeth laughed.  “The tables have turned is that it?  Am I grounded?”

Sally scowled at her mother.  “I never stayed out late and you know it.  That was always
Laurel
.”

“I’m sorry, honey, really.  It all just kind of happened.  I’m sure it won’t happen again, so don’t worry.”

“All right, but if you do stay out late, be sure to call.”

“I promise.  Now, aren’t you kids tired?  You have to be at work early tomorrow, don’t you?”  Annabeth let herself in the door, leaving Sally outside to say goodnight to her fiancé.

*

Annabeth lay in bed, the cat snuggled against her side.  There was plenty of time before she had to leave for work.  She glanced at the clock.  Julie!  She still had some telephone calls to make for her sister, reminding people of various commitments for today’s art show.  Fluffing up the pillows and piling them behind her, Annabeth sat up in the bed and reached for the list she’d left on the nightstand before retiring.  She placed the phone beside her in the bed and lifted the receiver to her ear.  There was no dial tone.  “Hello?” she said.

“Boy that was quick,” said
Laurel
, “It didn’t even ring.”

“Hi, sweetie, how are you?  I was just going to make some calls for your aunt about today’s art show.”

“Guess what?” asked
Laurel
.

“What?”

“
Southern Style
.”

“The magazine?” asked Annabeth.

“Well, yes.”

“And?”

“And they’re putting my apartment in it.  The November or December issue, I think.  They were here yesterday to photograph it for a section on
New Orleans
.”

“You’re kidding!  What did they photograph?”

“Pretty much the whole place.  Especially your paintings.  And all the furniture you painted.”

“Well, gee, how about that.”

“I thought it was exciting.  I mean it’s not
Architectural Digest
or anything like that, but still it’s kind of fun.”

“I can’t wait to see it.”

“We did a great job.  I’m surprised
Design
isn’t knocking at the door.”

“I’m glad you’re so happy, dear.  How are things otherwise?”

“Oh, the same.  How’s the job?”

“You know, chocolate, vanilla, strawberry.”  Annabeth paused before continuing, “I shouldn’t joke.  It’s fine really.  Charles and Chuck Gleason are both nice men.  I sell ice cream, do little displays, sometimes draw a sign for them.”

“And I hear one of them is in love with you.”

“What?”

“Sally says you’ve been out late twice since you started.”

“Well, gee, a hamburger and an hour’s conversation with my married boss. That’s not exactly violins.  And how is your love life—now that’s a real question.”

“I’ve been dating this guy, Zach, if you must know.”

“Yes, I must.  Tell me everything.”  Annabeth listened as
Laurel
offered a few details describing her most recent boyfriend, then continued, “And how is your career?”

“It’s great, really.”

“I’m glad.”

After completing Julie’s errands, there was plenty of time before she was due at work, so Annabeth took some time to stroll along downtown at the sidewalk sale and arts and crafts show.  There were tables with hand made dolls, which Annabeth admired and a variety of pottery and leather exhibits.  One woman had taken some key racks and painted flowers on them, and Annabeth stopped to look at them more closely, smiling at the artist.  “I paint on furniture too,” she volunteered.

“Oh, do you?  I’ve mainly stuck to these key racks and these little boxes.”

“They’re pretty.”  Annabeth examined the boxes more closely, stacking a couple smaller ones on top of a bigger on.  “That makes a pretty display.”

“Yes, it does look better that way.  Where’s your table?”

“Oh, I don’t have a table here.  I’ve never exhibited anything, though Etta has some of my things—the first I’ve ever done to sell.”

“I saw those things at Etta’s.  They’re beautiful.  I love the birds.  Your things are full of life.  You could sell them at shows like I do.”

“Well, thanks.  I never really thought of that.”

“I don’t make a lot of money, but I make some, and I get to do what I love.”

“Excuse me,” said a customer, “How much are these boxes?  The whole set, I mean?”

“I should let you go,” said Annabeth.

“Take my card,” offered the woman.  “Call me and I’ll give you some pointers.”

Annabeth took the card and walked off, ready to view the rest of the show.  There were a number of watercolor artists, specializing in seaside scenes, as was typical of any art show in that area, plus there were oils of families and children, paintings of oversized flowers, and a general assortment of drawings and paintings of a multitude of subjects.  Annabeth stopped to look at each artist’s work, enjoying being part of it, and when she had covered half the displays spread over the grassy center area of town, she walked along the sidewalk, noting the bargains available.

There were tables filled with glassware in front of the antique mall, a bargain rack of clothing in front of Eunice’s Dress Shop, and a display of furniture and cabinets in front of Etta’s.  Etta herself was standing outside, helping a customer who was buying one of Annabeth’s cabinets.

When the woman walked away, Etta called out to Annabeth.  “Hello! Having fun at the sale?”

“Yes, it’s nice isn’t it?  Fun to combine a sidewalk sale with the art show.”

“I sold quite a few of your pieces, you know.”

“No, did you?”

“All but the child’s table and one cabinet.  Come on in with me.”

Annabeth followed Etta into the shop and looked around.  “You’ve sold quite a bit of everything, haven’t you?”

“Yes, we’ve been having a busy few days.”  Etta reached under the counter and extracted a notebook, which listed the various items she’d sold of Annabeth’s, and then she opened the cash register and counted out some money, which she handed over.  “Here you go.  I think you should plan on painting a couple more rockers for us right away.  Okay?”

Annabeth looked down at the cash. “This is more than you estimated.  Is this right?”

“I decided to price them a little high for the sale.”

“That’s great,” replied Annabeth, clearly pleased.  “Somebody actually wanted them.”

“Of course they did.  Now how about those rockers?”

“Okay, sure.”

“I’ll have Rum drop some pieces off at your house.”

There were more artists displaying their work on the other side of the Pavilion, so Annabeth stepped out onto the grass once again and strolled some more, stopping to view each artist’s work until she heard her name being called.  She turned and saw Doug Hawkins.

“We just bump into each other everywhere in town, don’t we?” she asked, smiling.

“It’s the best thing about living in a town this small.”

“Doug, look at this.”  A woman turned from an exhibit of watercolors and seeing him talking to Annabeth she walked closer, taking hold of Doug’s arm.  She was rather slender and tall, although not nearly so tall as Doug himself, and her coloring was vivid—dark hair and alabaster skin, with bright crimson lipstick.