Local Girl Swept Away (10 page)

“Big crowd, huh?”

She nodded. “Carolyn has a following.”

I stared at the walls, a little overcome by seeing the work of someone I admired at such close range. I'd purposely stayed away from the gallery the past few days while the canvases were being hung so that the spectacle of twenty-five Carolyn Winter paintings all hanging here together would overwhelm me. But what I always forgot was that openings were parties, which was frustrating to somebody like me who just wanted to stand quietly and look at the work. People walked in front of you, dropping cracker crumbs, spilling wine, and yakking endlessly. I'd have to come back later in the week to experience the paintings the way I wanted to.

Elsie unwound a fuchsia silk scarf from her neck and tied it around mine, which lessened the navy blue cloak-of-invisibility look I had going. “This color looks great on you,” she said. She took my hand and led me into the main room where a lanky woman in a black dress and an enormous silver necklace was holding court. As always, the circle opened to admit Elsie.

“Carolyn, this is Jackie Silva, the girl I told you about.”

“Of course.” Carolyn Winter extended a clammy hand in my direction.

“I'm honored to meet you,” I said in a hushed tone. “Elsie showed me your book and the pieces she owns and I just love your work!” The other people standing in the circle smiled at me condescendingly, as if I were twelve. What
should
I have said?

“I'm happy to know the next generation finds something of interest in my work,” Carolyn Winter said, staring over my shoulder at someone behind me. I knew Finn would be incredibly annoyed by her, but Carolyn Winter was famous for good reason, and I was willing to put up with a little arrogance from someone whose work I admired so much.

From out of nowhere, Cooper appeared. He smiled at me, which I imagined turned my face a lovely oven-baked red. “Jackie's an artist, too,” he said to Carolyn Winter. “A good one. And she's still in high school.”

“
Is
she?” Carolyn Winter's icy composure melted a little as she turned to Cooper. “And you should know about youthful talent. You were quite the prodigy yourself, weren't you? An
enfant terrible
.”

Cooper laughed easily and said, “I'm not really all that terrible.”

“But you've published now, haven't you? And rather successfully, I hear.”

I could tell Cooper was pleased the guest of honor recognized him. It didn't surprise me, though—he was the kind of person you didn't forget.

“Jackie makes the most
wonderful
photo-collages,” Elsie said, a valiant effort to bring the conversation back to me.

But it was too late. Carolyn Winter was being drawn off to another circle of admirers and didn't hear. I wasn't surprised. She must meet young artists all the time—why would she be interested in me?

“She's busy now. I'll show her the pieces I have at the house later this evening,” Elsie said, then flew off in another direction.

But Cooper's eyes were still fastened on me, and as the rest of the group followed the artist, he came closer. “Don't stare at the star. Artists are skittish animals. You'll scare her away.”

“I wasn't staring.”

“Sure you were. Your eyes got huge and smoky. Beautiful, really.”

I looked down at my ragged fingernails, ashamed that Cooper recognized the longing on my face.

“Don't let people like that impress you too much,” he said. “She's just having her fifteen minutes of fame.”

“I don't think so,” I said. “She's the real thing.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. Just because her paintings sell for ridiculous prices now doesn't mean she'll last long. The art world is fickle.”

Standing next to Cooper with Elsie's expensive scarf wrapping my neck, I felt a little bolder than usual and dared to be a little bit flirtatious. “Is the publishing world fickle too? Do you think you'll last?” I looked up at Cooper and, over his shoulder, saw Finn glaring at me from his station at the wine and cheese table. God, couldn't I have fun for
one minute
without being caught out by him? Did I have to be sunken in gloom constantly, just because he was? I felt my cheeks flush hot, but not with embarrassment.

Cooper laughed and put a hand on my arm. “I don't know. I'm trying to enjoy my fifteen minutes without looking too far ahead.”

I made sure that Finn could see me grinning up at Cooper. The hell with him. “I haven't read your book yet, but I want to. I was so busy with work this summer and now there's all this college stuff to do, but—”

“There's no rush,” he said, kindly. “You're young. I'm sure your own life is much more interesting than anything I could make up.”

That
certainly wasn't true, but I didn't say so.

“It's stuffy in here,” Cooper said. “Let's go outside a minute and catch a breeze.”

“Sure,” I said, as if it were no big deal to me one way or the other.

He put a hand on my elbow, which seemed like such an adult thing to do, and led me past the meager wine selection and skimpy platter of Triscuits and Brie to the open door. I could feel Finn's disapproval grab at me as we passed, and I was amazed at how easy it was to ignore him.

We headed away from the crowd, toward the back of the long studio building where the gallery lights didn't quite reach. Cooper let go of my arm and leaned against a post, at ease and smiling.

“I'm glad you're here,” he said. “I get so tired of the artificiality at these things. I like that you don't pretend to be someone you aren't. You're just
you
, Jacqueline. No pretenses.”

“Nobody calls me Jacqueline,” I said, pretending I hadn't heard the rest of his lovely sentence.

“No? I think I will. You deserve a more sophisticated name than Jackie.”

I tipped my head to the side. “You know, I'm named after Jackie Kennedy Onassis. She was pretty darn sophisticated.” Was I actually
flirting
with Cooper? When did I learn to do that?

He cocked his head to match mine. “She's got nothin' on you, Jacqueline Silva.”

And then I realized how simple it would be to lean into him and wait for him to kiss me. Surely he would. It just seemed like what ought to happen next. Or maybe I could even kiss him—although I was pretty scarred by the terrible outcome the last time I tried that maneuver. But this was different. Cooper wasn't an unhappy teenager mourning his girlfriend. He was a full-grown man who obviously liked me. He'd kiss me, wouldn't he? What was the big deal? Cooper Thorne must have kissed a lot of girls in his life—kissing one more wouldn't be a life-or-death decision for him.

The problem was that, somehow, I'd gotten to be seventeen years old without ever having kissed anyone but Lucas Baskin-Snow—I couldn't count my humiliating attempt with Finn—and that experience had not taught me much about technique. What if I was a lousy kisser?

Cooper put his hands on my arms and rubbed them gently shoulder to elbow until an electrical current hummed through my body.

“You chilly out here?” he said.

“I'm good,” I said.

“You
are
good.” His voice was quiet and seemed to penetrate my skin.

I took one careful step toward him and was just about to tilt forward into his magnetic field when I heard someone coming up in back of me.

“Jackie? Are you out here?” Finn called into the darkness, swinging a flashlight back and forth. His tone of voice implied that he was my babysitter and I was being a very naughty girl.

“I'm right here,” I said, backing away from Cooper. “What do you want?”

Finn shone the flashlight into my eyes and I put up my hand against it. “Do you really need that thing?”

“It's dark out. I wondered where you went.” Finn lowered the light and stared, not at me but at Cooper.

“We came out to get a little air,” Cooper said, evenly. “It's stuffy when the gallery's full. In more ways than one.”

Finn shifted his gaze to me. “You should come in. Simon and Billy are here. They've got news.”

That got my attention. “Is Lucas coming back?”

“Yeah. Come on. They'll tell you.”

“Go talk to your friends,” Cooper said, giving my arm a gentle squeeze. “I'll see you later.”

“Okay.” I hated turning away from him, but I had no choice. Finn's timing was terrible, or maybe it was perfect.

“I can't believe you were out here with
him
,” Finn said as he lit the path back into the gallery. “Do you know how old he is?”

“Of course I know how old he is.”

“He's
thirty
!”

“I know, Finn!” Although in truth I'd been thinking twenty-eight, twenty-nine, which seemed a lot younger than thirty. “Why is this your business?”

He got quiet. “It's not. Except, we're friends and I don't like that guy.”

“Oh, we're friends? I wasn't sure.”

He ignored my sarcasm. “Why does everybody think Cooper's the greatest thing since soy lattes? I thought you had more sense.”

“You know, Finn, you're the only person I know who
doesn't
like Cooper. How did you get to be so much smarter than everybody else?”

He grumbled at that, but he shut up.

Billy Snow, in striped shorts and flip-flops, grabbed me the minute I came through the door and hugged me hard enough to crack a rib. “Here's my girl! Don't you look great with that scarf! Here, let me tie it for you—I watched this YouTube video that shows you twenty different ways to tie a scarf.” He flipped the thing over and under in a very complicated series of steps, as if his reputation depended on getting it tied perfectly. Something had obviously changed since he and Simon gave me the cold shoulder at Lorna's memorial service a few months ago.

Simon's Oxford shirt was tucked neatly into his ironed jeans. As usual the two of them seem to have dressed for completely different occasions. “Stop fussing at her,” Simon told Billy as he leaned down and kissed my cheek. “We've missed you, hon.”

“It's been a while,” I said, tactfully. I knew exactly how long it had been, and I'd missed them too, almost as much as I missed Lucas. Simon and Billy had always liked having the four of us gather at their house so they'd have a front-row seat for our conversations. Billy provided gourmet snacks in return for being allowed to hang out and act like a teenager himself. Simon, I think, had some idea that we were going to divulge important secrets that he'd be the first parent to hear. But since Lucas left they'd apparently been hiding out at their B&B, the Foxtrot Inn, keeping a secret of their own.

“Tell her what you told me,” Finn said.

Simon smiled hugely. “Lucas is coming home. He'll be here Sunday afternoon.”

“Really? Why's he been gone so long? How come he never–”

Simon interrupted my questions. “I know you guys'll want to see him right away, so come over after dinner on Sunday. I'll make a cheesecake for dessert.”

“And espresso. We've got a new machine,” Billy added.

I looked at Finn, who didn't seem all that eager. “Well, I guess I can come,” I said.

Finn shrugged. “Okay.”

I figured he was pissed off that Simon and Billy expected us to drop everything and dash right over to see Lucas the first possible minute he was back, when Lucas hadn't even bothered to e-mail us the entire summer. It
was
annoying. But we had to go. We needed answers.

“We missed him this summer,” I said.

Simon looked a little embarrassed, and I thought he might actually apologize to me, but then Billy started hitting him on the back and pointing toward the other room. “Look! Candace is here! How did she sneak in without us seeing her?”

Billy left in pursuit of his friend, and Simon rested a hand on my shoulder, briefly. “So, we'll see you two Sunday then? Around seven.” He smiled and went off after Billy.

“That was kind of weird,” I said.

“
Kind of?
How about extremely weird?” Finn shook his head. “We're supposed to go over there and eat dessert and pretend like Lucas didn't just disappear on us? I'll go, but Lucas better have something to say this time. I have to go guard the booze, but hang around and I'll give you a ride home after, okay?”

I nodded and Finn returned to his station. The crowd was starting to thin out, which gave me a chance to actually see the pictures on the wall. It also allowed me to glimpse Carolyn Winter standing in a far corner with Cooper, dipping her pinky finger into his glass of wine and then daintily licking it clean. God, did
she
know how old Cooper was? Did she know how old
she
was? I walked into the other room so I didn't have to watch my idol tarnish any further.

Before long the gallery emptied out and Finn started cleaning up the mess. The cheese platter had been decimated—colored toothpicks lay scattered on the plate like tiny Pick-Up Sticks—and somebody had squashed a bunch of purple grapes into the wood floor.

Rudolph stood in front of the pastry plate from the Portuguese Bakery, stuffing a custard tart in his mouth. He was wearing an expensive gray jacket that puckered a little at his waist. When Rudolph saw Finn he pointed to the smushed grapes. “Somebody could slip on that,” he said, his mouth still full.

“Unless somebody cleaned it up,” Finn said. He looked his father in the eye as he grabbed a roll of paper towels, ripped off a sheet, and bent down.

Rudy laughed good-naturedly. “You're the one who longs for a life of menial labor, Son, not me.”

“You think fishing is menial labor?”

“I think it's damned hard work the likes of which you've never done in your life.”

“Neither have you.”