Julia nodded in gratitude. Bending her knees, she grabbed the two handles the framer had considerately attached to the picture’s wrapping on one side. “As long as I don’t run into a high wind, this won’t be too hard to carry,” she said, as she straightened with the painting held against her right hip. It topped her head by a couple of feet and reached to the middle of her shins.
“There’s no question people will notice you,” Claire said.
“That’s my plan.” She’d learned the power of social pressure from Paul himself. If everyone knew she’d given this to Paul, he would have a hard time returning it.
Hefting it to a slightly more comfortable position, Julia followed Claire to the front door and maneuvered the painting through it. She was grateful for the bubble wrap as she banged one corner into the doorjamb as she turned. This was going to be a little harder than she anticipated.
Setting off toward Paul’s office, she kept watch for pedestrians, flower tubs, benches, and lampposts, all of which populated the sidewalks of Sanctuary. A glimpse of a particularly abundant tub of purple and yellow petunias lit by late-morning sunshine stirred her with its simple but lavish beauty. She drank in the sound of tires on pavement, greetings called to acquaintances, and during a lull in traffic, the trill of a robin perched in one of the linden trees lining the street.
Several men across a range of ages offered to give her a hand with her burden, reminding her of the friendliness she’d come to cherish here. People in Sanctuary might know each other’s business, but they also pitched in when that business got sticky. She thought of Verna, who was aiding and abetting this little escapade with relish. Isolated as she’d been at home, it surprised and delighted her when someone she barely knew lined up beside her to help.
She needed to carry the painting herself, but she let everyone know where she was going with it. That information earned a few approving winks and nods, which brought an ache to her throat. She didn’t explain this was a farewell gift.
It took a couple of rest stops but she finally made it to the Victorian house where Paul worked. She clumped up the steps and put her package down to swing open the heavy oak-and-glass door. Edging the painting through the opening, she leaned it against the banister of the staircase as she closed the door behind her. When she turned, Verna was gesturing her into Paul’s reception area.
“You are a sight for sore eyes,” Verna said, helping her guide the big canvas through the doorway. “His last appointment canceled, and I’ve been keeping him busy with finding old documents on the computer.”
“It’s heavier than I thought, so I had to rest once or twice.” Julia propped the canvas against some chairs.
Verna eyed the painting, which seemed to take up half the room. Julia frowned as she realized she’d only seen the Night Mare in her large studio at home or a wide-open gallery space. Maybe the scale was too big for any place Paul had to hang it.
She couldn’t worry about that now.
“Verna, do you really need the Snedegars’ divorce papers right—” Paul stopped in the door to his office as his gaze met Julia’s. Something flared in his eyes and then the mayoral smile closed the shutter on all emotion.
“If it’s not my favorite artist.” He walked over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Did you stop by to look over the contract with Claire? Verna, can you print that out for me?” He turned away a little too quickly to be convincing in his unconcern.
Julia closed her eyes to brace herself against the yearning response of her body to the all-too-brief touch of his lips. She swallowed and opened her eyes again. The back of his pale-blue shirt stretched across his shoulders as he leaned over Verna’s desk. Shoulders whose skin and muscle and bone she had explored with her fingers, even raked her nails over in moments of passion. She tucked her fingers into her palms to keep herself from skimming them over the warmth of his body one more time.
This was harder than she expected.
“Here you go,” Paul said, holding a stapled document out to her. He had to lean forward slightly to bridge the distance between them. As soon as she grasped the papers, he took another step backward. Glancing at his watch, he said, “I guess we could take a quick pass through it now.” His gaze went past her and narrowed. “What the—?”
She took a certain pleasure in knowing he’d just noticed the giant painting in the room. It meant he’d been focused entirely on her. “It’s the Night Mare you admired. I’m giving it to you.”
The easy smile slipped slightly as his jaw muscles went rigid. “I seem to remember telling you I couldn’t accept such a valuable gift.”