Andie’s smile widened. “Yep.” Then her smile faded. “I hope that’s good news.”
“Of course it is!” Jane threw her arms around her sister. “We’ll fix up your old room and get you some better furniture and—”
“I’m not going to stay at Tides. I don’t want to take up a room that could bring income, and besides, I need my own space.”
“Oh, of course.” Jane felt slightly disappointed, but it made sense. Her sister would want her own place. Maybe she was sick of helping Jane out and would find work elsewhere. The gallery, perhaps?
“Don’t worry. I’m still going to help out here with the guests, but there’s really not enough for it to be a full-time job.”
“Oh. That’s great!” Jane said. “What else are you going to do?”
“Well, I’ve bought an antique store.”
“The one downtown that’s been closed all this time?” Jane had wondered when someone would buy that.
“Yep. It has an apartment above.” Andie told her about meeting Rita and appraising the items for the other women. “So I feel like I can fulfill a need there, and it will be fun. I like helping out here, but I’m chomping at the bit to get back into antiques too.”
“Sounds perfect.”
The crunch of tires on gravel came through the front-facing window, and they looked outside to see Mike’s car pull up.
“Looks like our date is here,” Andie said. “You ready?”
Mike was in the foyer. Dressed in a sharp black suit, he looked so handsome it made Jane lose her breath. As they descended the stairs, he looked up. His gaze tracked over Jane, making her feel self-conscious.
“You look amazing.”
“Thanks.” Andie teased by answering him, though it was clear by the way Mike couldn’t take his eyes off Jane that the compliment was meant for her.
“You both do.” Mike held out both elbows. “How lucky am I to be able to escort Lobster Bay’s most beautiful sisters to the art gallery opening.”
Jane took one arm, Andie the other.
“Very,” they both said at the same time.
Jane’s heart was full. She glanced at Mike from the passenger seat. His smile was relaxed, with none of the stress she thought she’d seen earlier after his mysterious phone call. She truly must have imagined that. She settled back into her seat, happier than she'd been in years. Tonight her best friend was realizing her dream of having an art show, her sister was staying in town, and she was attending the art show on the arm of the most handsome guy in town.
Chapter Twenty-One
James had to admit the Lobster Bay Art Gallery was comparable to any gallery he'd seen in a big city. He knew the opening had happened pretty fast and had expected it to look thrown together, but it didn’t. The building was an old mill and had vaulted wooden ceilings and exposed ductwork painted black. The walls had been painted stark white, which highlighted the artwork. The floors were black tile. The front of the building had been renovated to have glass windows that rose two stories high.
The space consisted of several large rooms. Dotted around the rooms were four-foot-tall rectangular blocks that held sculptures. The lighting had been aimed precisely to highlight the individual works of art.
It wasn’t hard to find Maxi’s paintings. In fact, he could tell which ones were hers with a glance. Maybe that was because he knew her so well. He stopped to study his favorite, a sailboat with bright-white sails cutting through the cobalt sea. It was finely detailed and even had little people on board in striped shirts. It was so vivid and realistic he could practically smell the sea air.
“Do you like it?”
Maxi stood beside him, a hopeful, hesitant smile on her lips. She looked radiant in a royal-blue satin dress. Classy plus artsy. He fell in love with her all over again in that moment.
“It’s amazing.”
A blush crept over her cheeks, making her even more radiant, if that was even possible.
“Thanks.” They both looked at the painting, their shoulders touching. “I was out of practice, but I think it came out pretty good.”
“Maxi... I’m sorry, I...” James stuttered. All the words he wanted to say got stuck in his throat, and only gibberish came out.
She turned to face him, reached out to touch his arm. “Oh, James, it’s not—”
