“My God. I bet Alice wanted to kill him.”
“It wasn’t good timing on his part,” her mother said.
“What did you tell him?”
“The truth—that you look well, and happy, and you seem to be getting very close to Sam. And I couldn’t be any more pleased about it.”
“Mom. I’ve already told you why there’s no chance for me to have a serious relationship with Sam. So please don’t get your hopes up for something that’s impossible.”
“Don’t say ‘it’s impossible,’” her mother said with annoying sanguinity, “about something that you’re already doing.”
* * *
Two days after her parents’ visit, Lucy moved into the condo at Friday Harbor. To her surprise, Sam had objected to her leaving Rainshadow so soon, insisting that she needed more time to rest and heal. “Besides,” he’d said, “I don’t think you’ve gotten the hang of those crutches yet.”
“I’ve totally gotten the hang of them,” Lucy said. “I can even do tricks with them. You should see my freestyle moves.”
“All those stairs. All that walking. And you can’t drive yet. How are you going to get groceries?”
“I’ve got a whole list of numbers from the Hog Heaven congregation.”
“I don’t want you to hang out with a bunch of bikers.”
“I won’t be hanging out with them,” Lucy said, amused. “They’re just going to lend me a hand every now and then.”
Although it was clear that Sam would have liked to argue further, he muttered, “It’s your life.”
Lucy gave him an impish grin. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll let you come over for a quickie every now and then.”
He scowled at her. “That’s great. Because sexual convenience was my main concern.”
Although Lucy was rather sorry to leave the house at Rainshadow, she felt it was better for both of them. Another few days of proximity, and she was fairly certain that Sam would have started to feel claustrophobic. And most important, Lucy was happy to be able to return to her studio.
She missed her glass desperately, could almost feel it calling to her.
On her first morning back at Swing on a Star, Lucy was filled with creative fire. She set out to produce a cartoon, or a full-sized design, of the tree window for the Rainshadow Vineyard house. Using a combination of hand sketching and computer software, she detailed the cut lines and numbering sections for color shading. When it was finished to her satisfaction, she would make three copies of the pattern, one for reference, one to cut apart with shears, and one on which to assemble the window. Then the meticulous process of glass scoring and breaking would begin, accompanied by reshaping and grinding the edges of pieces as needed.
Lucy was still working on the cartoon when Sam came to the studio at lunchtime. He brought in two crisp white paper bags from the Market Chef, both of which looked satisfyingly weighty. “Sandwiches,” he said.
“I didn’t expect you,” Lucy exclaimed. A teasing grin spread across her face. “You just can’t stay away from me.”
Sam glanced at the pile of sketches on the table. “Is this preferable to the life of leisure you had with me?”
Lucy laughed. “Well, being waited on hand and foot was very nice … but it’s good to be productive again.”
Sam set the bags on the worktable and came around to view the cartoon. He stared intently at the design. “It’s beautiful.”
“It’s going to be stunning,” Lucy said. “You have no idea what the glass will add.”
The corners of his mouth quirked. “Knowing you, I’ll be prepared for anything.” After studying the design for a minute, he said, “I brought you a housewarming present. I thought you’d probably want to keep it here.”
“You didn’t have to get me a present.”
“You won’t be able to use it for a while.”
“Where is it?”
“Sit still. I’ll bring it in.”
Lucy waited with an expectant grin as Sam went outside. Her eyes widened as he wheeled in a bicycle with a huge bow adorning the center of the handlebars. “I don’t believe it. Oh, Sam. You are the sweetest, sweetest—” She broke off with a crow of delight as she looked at the fabulous vintage restored bike, painted a rich forest green with crisp white ballooner fenders.
“It’s a 1954 Ladies Schwinn Hornet,” Sam said, rolling it over to her.
Lucy ran her fingers over the rich patina, the thick black wall tires, the white leather seat. “It’s perfect,” she said, surprised to discover that her voice was scratchy and her eyes were blurring. Because a present like this could only have come from someone who understood her, who got her. And it was a sign that Sam truly felt something for her, whether or not he’d intended it that way. She was surprised by the realization of how much that meant to her, how much she had wanted him to care for her on some level.