Second Chance Girl
Page 52
He didn’t want to go. Barring that, he wanted to take Violet with him. The thought had haunted him for a few days now—the endless loop in his brain asking if it was possible. Could they make a relationship work? He’d made what he thought were all the right decisions with Penelope—he’d known her, had thought he understood what she wanted from him. In the end, he’d been wrong about all of it. Did it make any sense to throw caution to the wind and commit to someone he’d only known a few weeks?
A question he wasn’t prepared to answer, he thought as he walked by the river. And perhaps that was the point—that there wasn’t an answer at all. That he was meant to take a step of blind faith.
He found himself outside of the Willow Gallery where the fund-raiser would be held. He would attend that with Violet, then drive to Los Angeles the following morning for his flight home. She had promised to come visit him and while she might be convinced to stay for a few weeks, then what? They were an ocean and a continent apart.
He saw two men carrying a large glass statue of a bird in flight and hurried to open the gallery’s rear door.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” He nodded at the statue. “The donated bit of art to raise money for Millie?” he asked, following the men inside.
The men put down the bird. They were both about his height, with dark hair and eyes, and similar features. Brothers, he thought. As he spoke, they glanced at each other.
“Bit of art?” the first man asked with a grin. “That’s one way to put it.” He stared at Ulrich. “You’re that English guy dating Violet. Mathias Mitchell.” He stuck out his hand. “This is my brother Nick.”
“Nice to meet you both. Ulrich Sherwood.”
Mathias turned to his brother. “He’s lying. He’s some lord or earl or something. Carol told me. Carol is Violet’s sister.”
“Yes, we’ve met. She’s the one with the giraffe.”
“Technically it’s an animal preserve. Giraffes, zebras, a few gazelles.”
“There’s a water buffalo,” Nick added. “You’d think it was a boy, but nope. All girls. Nobody’s having babies.”
“Are they sure?” Ulrich asked. “Let us remember the lesson of the movie Jurassic Park.”
Mathias grinned. “Nature finds a way. Great movie. Scared the crap out of me when I was a kid. I didn’t sleep for a week.”
Nick shook his head. “He’s the baby of the family, what are you going to do? So, what brings you to Happily Inc?”
“I had business in the area,” Ulrich said, avoiding mention of his first encounter with Violet where he’d accused her of stealing, if not the family jewels, then something else equally valuable.
They all walked out of the gallery and toward a large, low building with lots of windows. Their studio, Ulrich would guess. When they walked inside, he saw he’d been right.
There were large desks, cabinets and workstations, along with a huge oven and all kinds of equipment he couldn’t begin to name. Even more compelling were the pieces of art scattered everywhere. There were carvings, creations done with paper instead of paint, an origami mobile and several wood carvings.
“You’ve been busy,” he said quietly.
“Let me take you on a tour,” Mathias told him. “Nick and I work here most of the time. I have a small studio at home but it’s mostly for sketching. My brother Ronan has a studio at his place. He’s the one who created that bit of art we were carrying.”
Ulrich held in a smile. “No insult intended.”
“None taken,” Nick said with a grin. “But if Ronan gets riled, you’re on your own.”
“I shall be on my best behavior.” He glanced around. “Who works with wood?”
“I do.” Nick crossed to a large log mounted vertically on a stand. “Still trying to figure out what this one is supposed to be. I keep seeing some guy holding a lute, but I’m hoping I’m wrong.”
As all Ulrich saw was a log, he was impressed. He looked at Mathias. “You work with glass, correct?”
“Mostly everyday stuff. Dishes, bowls.” He motioned to the pieces stacked on shelves by the window.
“So Ronan made that?” he asked, pointing to the piece in the back. It was made up of two separate statues. A giraffe—Millie, he would guess—bending down to greet a woman. As he moved closer, he recognized the features. Carol, he thought. Carol and Millie together.
“I did that,” Mathias admitted. “Just something I’ve been playing with.”
Ulrich walked around the pedestal and he looked more closely. Millie seemed ready to take a step. He would swear he saw Carol breathing. There was talent in the piece, and something more. The artist who had created this loved his subjects. He wondered if Mathias knew what he was telling the world with his work.
“It’s brilliant,” Ulrich told him. “Will you be selling it at the event?”
“It’s not for sale and I don’t know if I’ll display it or not.”
“Someone might accidentally knock it over,” Nick grumbled as he walked to the coffeepot on a table by the front door. He held up a mug. “Ulrich?”
“Yes, please. Black is fine.”
“Good, because we don’t have tea.”
Ulrich sighed. “You Americans do love your stereotypes.”
“That we do.” Nick handed him the coffee, then poured a mug for himself and his brother.
Ulrich looked back at Mathias’s artwork. “Why would it be damaged?”
The brothers exchanged a look. “You get along with your father?” Nick asked.
“I used to. He passed away.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I am, as well. He was a good man. Kind and generous.” Ulrich had always aspired to be like him. When the responsibilities of the estate seemed unmanageable, he reminded himself his father had done it all with a broken body racked with pain, and he’d never once faltered.
“Our father isn’t like that,” Nick said. “He’s a famous artist who doesn’t like anyone doing better than him. Not even his sons.”
“I see.” Ulrich didn’t know much about the art world but even he had heard of a famous glass artist with the last name of Mitchell. “It’s unfortunate he can’t be proud of you.”
“Not his style,” Mathias murmured, then sipped his coffee. “You’ll meet him on Thursday.”
“He’s attending?”
“He’s donating something, as well.”
“Ah. To share in the glory?”
“Sure,” Nick said. “Will you be bidding?”
Ulrich chuckled. “I’m afraid not. I have an old, drafty house with bad plumbing.”
“Uh-huh. Let me guess. The drafty old house is a five-hundred-year-old estate with a couple hundred rooms.”
Ulrich sipped his coffee. “Something like that. And the plumbing is awful. But I shall be hoping for a blowout in the bidding.”
“Didn’t Millie cause your car accident?” Mathias asked.
“I’m not one to hold a grudge.” Not when the accident had resulted in him spending more time with Violet. “From what I’ve been told, Millie needs her herd. Here’s to that happening.”
He chatted with the brothers for a few more minutes before excusing himself and walking back toward Violet’s store. She should be finished with her client by now and he wanted to spend every second he could with her. Despite their short time together, she’d become extremely important to him. So important, he wasn’t sure how he was going to leave her. But return home he must, and therein lay the dilemma.
A question he wasn’t prepared to answer, he thought as he walked by the river. And perhaps that was the point—that there wasn’t an answer at all. That he was meant to take a step of blind faith.
He found himself outside of the Willow Gallery where the fund-raiser would be held. He would attend that with Violet, then drive to Los Angeles the following morning for his flight home. She had promised to come visit him and while she might be convinced to stay for a few weeks, then what? They were an ocean and a continent apart.
He saw two men carrying a large glass statue of a bird in flight and hurried to open the gallery’s rear door.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” He nodded at the statue. “The donated bit of art to raise money for Millie?” he asked, following the men inside.
The men put down the bird. They were both about his height, with dark hair and eyes, and similar features. Brothers, he thought. As he spoke, they glanced at each other.
“Bit of art?” the first man asked with a grin. “That’s one way to put it.” He stared at Ulrich. “You’re that English guy dating Violet. Mathias Mitchell.” He stuck out his hand. “This is my brother Nick.”
“Nice to meet you both. Ulrich Sherwood.”
Mathias turned to his brother. “He’s lying. He’s some lord or earl or something. Carol told me. Carol is Violet’s sister.”
“Yes, we’ve met. She’s the one with the giraffe.”
“Technically it’s an animal preserve. Giraffes, zebras, a few gazelles.”
“There’s a water buffalo,” Nick added. “You’d think it was a boy, but nope. All girls. Nobody’s having babies.”
“Are they sure?” Ulrich asked. “Let us remember the lesson of the movie Jurassic Park.”
Mathias grinned. “Nature finds a way. Great movie. Scared the crap out of me when I was a kid. I didn’t sleep for a week.”
Nick shook his head. “He’s the baby of the family, what are you going to do? So, what brings you to Happily Inc?”
“I had business in the area,” Ulrich said, avoiding mention of his first encounter with Violet where he’d accused her of stealing, if not the family jewels, then something else equally valuable.
They all walked out of the gallery and toward a large, low building with lots of windows. Their studio, Ulrich would guess. When they walked inside, he saw he’d been right.
There were large desks, cabinets and workstations, along with a huge oven and all kinds of equipment he couldn’t begin to name. Even more compelling were the pieces of art scattered everywhere. There were carvings, creations done with paper instead of paint, an origami mobile and several wood carvings.
“You’ve been busy,” he said quietly.
“Let me take you on a tour,” Mathias told him. “Nick and I work here most of the time. I have a small studio at home but it’s mostly for sketching. My brother Ronan has a studio at his place. He’s the one who created that bit of art we were carrying.”
Ulrich held in a smile. “No insult intended.”
“None taken,” Nick said with a grin. “But if Ronan gets riled, you’re on your own.”
“I shall be on my best behavior.” He glanced around. “Who works with wood?”
“I do.” Nick crossed to a large log mounted vertically on a stand. “Still trying to figure out what this one is supposed to be. I keep seeing some guy holding a lute, but I’m hoping I’m wrong.”
As all Ulrich saw was a log, he was impressed. He looked at Mathias. “You work with glass, correct?”
“Mostly everyday stuff. Dishes, bowls.” He motioned to the pieces stacked on shelves by the window.
“So Ronan made that?” he asked, pointing to the piece in the back. It was made up of two separate statues. A giraffe—Millie, he would guess—bending down to greet a woman. As he moved closer, he recognized the features. Carol, he thought. Carol and Millie together.
“I did that,” Mathias admitted. “Just something I’ve been playing with.”
Ulrich walked around the pedestal and he looked more closely. Millie seemed ready to take a step. He would swear he saw Carol breathing. There was talent in the piece, and something more. The artist who had created this loved his subjects. He wondered if Mathias knew what he was telling the world with his work.
“It’s brilliant,” Ulrich told him. “Will you be selling it at the event?”
“It’s not for sale and I don’t know if I’ll display it or not.”
“Someone might accidentally knock it over,” Nick grumbled as he walked to the coffeepot on a table by the front door. He held up a mug. “Ulrich?”
“Yes, please. Black is fine.”
“Good, because we don’t have tea.”
Ulrich sighed. “You Americans do love your stereotypes.”
“That we do.” Nick handed him the coffee, then poured a mug for himself and his brother.
Ulrich looked back at Mathias’s artwork. “Why would it be damaged?”
The brothers exchanged a look. “You get along with your father?” Nick asked.
“I used to. He passed away.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I am, as well. He was a good man. Kind and generous.” Ulrich had always aspired to be like him. When the responsibilities of the estate seemed unmanageable, he reminded himself his father had done it all with a broken body racked with pain, and he’d never once faltered.
“Our father isn’t like that,” Nick said. “He’s a famous artist who doesn’t like anyone doing better than him. Not even his sons.”
“I see.” Ulrich didn’t know much about the art world but even he had heard of a famous glass artist with the last name of Mitchell. “It’s unfortunate he can’t be proud of you.”
“Not his style,” Mathias murmured, then sipped his coffee. “You’ll meet him on Thursday.”
“He’s attending?”
“He’s donating something, as well.”
“Ah. To share in the glory?”
“Sure,” Nick said. “Will you be bidding?”
Ulrich chuckled. “I’m afraid not. I have an old, drafty house with bad plumbing.”
“Uh-huh. Let me guess. The drafty old house is a five-hundred-year-old estate with a couple hundred rooms.”
Ulrich sipped his coffee. “Something like that. And the plumbing is awful. But I shall be hoping for a blowout in the bidding.”
“Didn’t Millie cause your car accident?” Mathias asked.
“I’m not one to hold a grudge.” Not when the accident had resulted in him spending more time with Violet. “From what I’ve been told, Millie needs her herd. Here’s to that happening.”
He chatted with the brothers for a few more minutes before excusing himself and walking back toward Violet’s store. She should be finished with her client by now and he wanted to spend every second he could with her. Despite their short time together, she’d become extremely important to him. So important, he wasn’t sure how he was going to leave her. But return home he must, and therein lay the dilemma.
