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Janey
“Everything is fine here Janey, and it will be even better with you gone for a few days.” Eddy’s sarcasm wasn’t lost on me, but she was a friend of sorts, more like a naughty grandma, so I held my tongue.
“Then why did you call me Eddy?” She was an older woman, probably in her sixties, but she was sharper than most people half her age, so I knew she was up to something. The question was, what? “Well?”
She sighed down the line, and a small smile curled my lips for the first time since the plane landed in Santa Fe. “I just wanted you to know that if you find yourself in trouble or in need of company, Rafe is in the area for a Firefighters Convention. Can you imagine, a whole room or a whole convention center filled with firefighters of all ages? I wish I was in your shoes honey.”
I waited a few more seconds just to be sure Eddy was done talking while I searched my mind for an answer. “I won’t be in trouble or in need of company Eddy. There’re plenty of photographers here. You know, the reason I’m here in the first place?”
Eddy huffed out her displeasure, just in case I had any doubts how she felt about photography. “I still don’t understand why you can’t just buy your equipment online like everyone else, and who needs to hear some fancy picture taker drone on and on about composition and aperture?”
“Somebody’s been reading up on photography,” I teased.
“Gotta make sure our resident artiste doesn’t up and leave us for the big city.”
As if that would ever happen. Tulip was my home, where I was born and raised, and I always knew I wanted to live there. Work there. Get married someday and raise my kids there too. Photography gave me a way to support myself without going too far from home, at least not too often.
“I’m just here to learn Eddy, and to connect with others in my field.” It was kind of sweet, her concern.
“If you say so,” her tone was thick with skepticism.
“As long as you don’t tie me up in your matchmaking schemes, I’ll stay right where I am.” The truth was, I wouldn’t mind being matched, if it was the right guy. The problem was, I knew all the guys in Tulip, had grown up with most of them, and even the hot ones weren’t what I was looking for in a husband.
“Maybe we won’t need to match you, ask Rafe to introduce you to some of his firefighter friends.”
“Eddy,” I laughed. “Don’t you have a fake book club to attend or something?”
She giggled. “Tell Rafe I said hello.”
“Tell him yourself,” I told her. “I don’t imagine we’ll cross paths at all this weekend.” She laughed until the call simply ended. That was Eddy for you, crazy and crafty all rolled into one pint-sized package.
And I’m sure the entire reason for her call was to let me know Rafe was also in Santa Fe. As if I didn’t know that already. And I knew because Betty Kemp had told me when she dropped me at the airport. I knew I should have been suspicious when she volunteered for the job. Elizabeth Vargas had casually dropped the same info when she offered to feed my pet turtle, Stromboli. It seemed that the fire chief’s travel habits were of great concern to the matchmakers. Maybe they figured I knew a sexy photographer to hook him up with, someone who shot artistic nudes and maybe even did a few of herself.
I knew for a fact they weren’t trying to match Rafe with me. Not because I’m some bridge-dwelling troll or anything, I’m not. I know what I look like, and it’s a look best described as cute enough. My thick black hair that only stayed straight for about two hours each day was the most noticeable thing about me. My green eyes weren’t bad, but they were usually hidden behind a camera or my beloved tortoise shell eyeglasses. My body was petite, as in short, not as in tiny. Short and cushy. The dimple in my right cheek could be considered cute, but rarely hot, and never ever, sexy.
Yeah, I was cute enough and that was fine by me. But a guy like Rafe Montgomery, well he needed a woman who stood out. A knock out who’s very presence forced people to notice her. That wasn’t me, which was ok, because Rafe was good looking. No, he was too good looking for anyone’s peace of mind, mine especially, so I kept my distance.
And I wasn’t in Santa Fe to meet up with Rafe or anyone else for the matter. The only man I was interested in was the keynote speaker Michael Stromberg. A guy who’d managed to win a Pulitzer Prize, shoot more than a dozen different photo series in war torn areas around the world, and recently he’d been instrumental in uncovering a scandal in the fashion world. He was the only man I was after right now.
