Beth scowled at Tricia and said, “Nobody would have listened to you. You’re too new here. They like Darci.” Beth’s lined face looked much older than it really was. Casting a bitter look at Carrie, Beth said harshly, “You caused this mess, Carrie. Damn it, you shouldn’t have done something so damned huge. Not with Darci. Too many people like her and she’s too damned outspoken. She doesn’t take things lying down. You should have figured that out by now.”
Carrie slammed her charcoal pencil down and glared at all of them. “Would you shut up? I don’t need to hear this from you. Not from any of you,” she shouted. A startled look crossed her face and she swallowed. “I-I’m sorry. This is giving me such a headache.”
She muttered, “How in the hell was I supposed to know Darci wouldn’t be going home? She said she was going home. And I’m not about to just let her get by with the snipes she makes at me. How she treats me like shit, like I was just like anybody else… I’m better…” As she spoke, her voice started to take on a little singsong quality, drifting up and down. Lowering herself into her chair, she smiled, and those who saw it took a minute to wonder. That smile was…wrong. Her eyes started to gleam as she whispered, “And that damned gallery. I hate it…I hate all of them.”
“Carrie, you need to get hold of yourself,” Tricia said quietly.
Carrie blinked, looking confused. Looking from one woman to another, she didn’t like the looks she saw, disgust, worry, fear. Nothing to worry about, she told herself, turning back to her desk, lowering herself into the chair. Nothing to worry about.
Aloud, she said, “I know what I’m doing. I’m doing what’s best for all of us, for the gallery.” Taking a charcoal pencil in hand, she started to sketch.
“Don’t go acting like this had something to do with the business,” Beth said flatly. “This was personal. Which means if anybody has problems from it, it will be you. Not us. You.”
“There aren’t going to be problems,” Carrie muttered, her hand moving rapidly over the heavy paper. Her eyes were wide and feverish, locked on the work in front of her.
“I hope not.”
Darci was kicking back at the café when Kellan crossed the street, carrying a white sack in his hand.
Dotti’s.
His work day was over and he had gone to Dotti’s again for dinner. Like he did most every night.
Darci knew, because any time she was in town, she looked for him. And at this time of day, he was usually heading out. Over the past couple of years, she had spent a lot of time studying him.
And the first thought that drifted through her mind was Damn, but that man has one fine butt.
The strong columns of his thighs, that firm ass, his back, everything from the back view added up to one fine piece of man-flesh. Yep. There was just one thing to say about him.
Damn, he was fine.
His eyes… She loved those eyes. And his hands-she hummed under her breath as she thought of just what she’d like to see those hands doing.
Darci bet he hated that hair. It was deep, deep dark red, worn a little longer now than he used to wear it, past his collar, brushing his shoulder. His skin was a warm mellow gold, not the pale white she normally associated with redheads. Against that golden skin, his hazel eyes gleamed, glowing green-gold one minute, then amber the next.
You are obsessed.
In response to her silent, self-directed comment, she muttered, “Yep,” and chuckled.
Tipping back the cappuccino, she took another savoring sip, humming in appreciation as she swallowed.
A low humph reached her ears and she arched a brow as Clive sent her a narrow look. “Listen, you skinny little white girl, you planning on going home soon or are you going to keep sitting here lookin’ purty?” he razzed. “Or better yet, go have some fun. Pretty thing like you needs to be out having fun on a night like this. Not sitting there brooding.”
She pursed her lips. “I think I’ll just sit here and brood,” she drawled, tapping her cup. “I want another, and a biscotti. A chocolate one dipped in white chocolate.”
Clive grinned at her and said, “Girl, don’t you think you should be out combing the woods and pointing that camera at things? You need to be taking photo-graphs, dontcha? We need some photo-graphs.”
She rolled her eyes and said, “I don’t feel like taking photo-graphs,” drawing the word out the same way he did, mimicking his deep Southern accent. “I’m taking a break. Is that okay with you, buddy?”
He smiled, his teeth white inside the grizzled salt and pepper of his beard. “Sure thing, lady. You’re a pretty knickknack to have sitting around my shop, that’s for sure.” Then his eyes sobered. “I was wondering, though, are you mebbe tryin’ to avoid being by yourself, tryin’ to avoid doin’ any serious thinking? Serious thoughts tend to hurt some when somebody has struck out at ya, somebody who was a friend.”
Her eyes drifted away and she sighed. “I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts, that’s for sure. I figure when I’m less likely to brood, I’ll get some work done. I’m too good at brooding though. I don’t need the headache it’s going to give me.”
Clive set her mocha down in front of her, the biscotti on a plate with a lace doily. After patting her shoulder with an arthritic hand, he hobbled away. “Take your time, girl. You just take your time. Like I said, pretty face like yours around here ain’t gonna hurt my business none,” he told her over his shoulder.
She eventually moved to the padded window seat and pulled out a book, reading until she had a crick in her neck and her hands were shaky from excess caffeine.
Even then, she didn’t go home. Closing her eyes, she daydreamed, her mind drifting, chasing itself around in circles. The low hum of conversation around her lulled her, and eased her even farther into her daze.
When Clive came up later and patted her shoulder, his eyes were dark and thoughtful as he studied her. “Girl, I’m almost tempted to just stay open all night. I can tell you don’t wanna go home and be alone wit’ yourself. But it’s late, and I’m tired,” he drawled, pulling a chair up. “You know, sooner or later, the people who caused this mess for you are going to get what’s comin’ to them. What goes around does indeed come around.”
“Yeah, well, a couple of these people have been causing this kind of shit for years. And nothing’s ever come of it,” Darci said wearily. “And they aren’t even the worst of it. They aren’t the ones who bothered me the most.”
“Oh, I know…it’s Della. You admired that woman-imagine you still do. It’s hard to shut down what’s in your heart when ya look up to somebody as much as you did her. I do know that she’s got plenty of people who aren’t very happy with her.”
Her mouth curled up in a sad smile. “I don’t want anybody mad at her. That doesn’t solve anything.”
“No. And it doesn’t make you feel any better. Nothing is gonna do that. Nothing changes the fact that she believed somebody’s lies,” Clive said, his low, soothing voice lulling her frazzled nerves. “Now you listen up. I’m going make you up a special drink, and you don’t be tellin’ nobody about it. And you can’t give me money, cuz I ain’t allowed to sell alcohol. But I’m gonna fix it. And then I’m gonna drive you home. You can drink it there.”
He patted her hand and stood up. “Once you get there, you’re going to go up, get in bed and finish drinking it. And sleep. And put this mess behind you-however you have to do it.”