Apple Blossom Bride by Lois Richer

Author:Lois Richer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Steeple Hill
Published: 2007-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

“You have to be crazy to have let yourself be talked into this, Masters.”

Michael glared at the jagged edges of poorly sawn plywood that were supposed to represent the northern lights. Somebody wasn’t very good with a jigsaw. He’d have to fix it. Grumbling to himself, he let it fall against the floor with a loud clap.

“Obviously I’m as looney as they come.”

“I think that’s a bad sign.”

He jerked around, grimaced at Ashley’s laughing face.

“Answering yourself, I mean. Talking to yourself is perfectly normal.”

“Really?” He was content to stand there and stare his fill.

“Maybe you need to think about a holiday, Michael.”

“You tell me where and when and I’ll be there,” he muttered, embarrassed that she’d overheard him complaining.

“Christmas isn’t that far away.”

“Now you sound like Tati.” He moved the pieces so they were lined up in sequence. “Does this look right to you?”

“No.” She stepped nearer, pulled a paper out of the file she was carrying. “You’re missing a section.” She held out the paper for him to see.

“That’s Marc. I figured his project would take longer than anyone else’s. He’s not exactly organized. What are you doing here?” He dusted off his hands while his eyes feasted on the woman who hadn’t been out of his thoughts for more than half an hour, even though he hadn’t seen her in two weeks.

According to Jason, Ashley had taken a trip to Toronto to try to drum up gallery interest in her artists. He couldn’t help but wonder how she’d done.

“Checking on your progress. The kids have already started rehearsals. The drama teacher is delighted with the script. He’s got a mixture of local talent helping him.” She frowned, touched her finger to the end of his nose, showed him the sawdust. “A new fashion statement?”

“Nothing close to yours.” He admired the jade-green suit she wore and the high black boots that did great things for her legs. “What’s the occasion? My art teacher never dressed like you.”

“No class today. I’m working on something else. Something I came to ask your help with.”

Michael heard the hesitation and ignored it. “Shoot.”

“I need you to look at a house.”

“A house?” He raised one eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because I’m thinking about buying it.”

“Wow! What brought this on?” She was going to live here permanently? His heart swelled.

“I struck out in Toronto, Montreal, Vancouver and New York. And it makes me furious.”

She looked steamed. Her silver-gilt hair danced over her shoulders shooting out sparks where the light hit it.

“They wouldn’t agree to a full-scale show,” he guessed.

“Not for the weavings, the paintings, the stained glass. Not even all together. Nobody will do more than take a couple of pieces on a trial basis.” She flopped down on an upturned crate, her gray eyes steely. “Not a visionary among them. Philistines!”

“I see.” Been there, done that. Which made thoughts of his own showing next summer seem an impossibility. “And buying a house will help you because—?”

“I’m going to turn it into a gallery,” Ashley said. Her chin jutted out as if she expected an argument.

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