Sympathetic Magic(37)

That sounded about right to him. “Yes, they are that.”

The two of them were quiet for a minute or two, demolishing the rest of the dates in short order. Margot’s glass of sangria was about three-quarters gone, while Lucas knew he was about to start making rude noises with his straw if he attempted to get any more out of the bottom of his glass.

“Another one?” he asked.

“I think I’m good,” she replied. “We’re going to be walking a good bit, so it’s probably better if I’m not completely tipsy.”

Actually, he thought the extra bit of muscle relaxant might do her some good, but he knew better than to tell her that. “Anything else you’d like to eat?”

She smiled at him. It was a genuine smile, one without any irony or sarcasm in it. “No, that was perfect. Just enough to take the edge off. Thank you.”

It definitely had taken the edge off. She seemed more relaxed now, not so worried about what he had planned or what was coming next. He took that as a good sign. So he signaled the waiter that they were ready for the check, and within a few minutes, they were back outside, the fresh breeze playing with the ends of Margot’s hair, making her push it back impatiently.

“We can cut down this alley,” Lucas said, leading her to the narrow lane that separated Connor’s building from the restaurant across from the tapas place.

She followed him, looking around with some interest, although truthfully, there wasn’t that much to see. It could be a little awkward in here if someone decided to come this way in their car, but luckily they made it through without incident, and veered to the left so they could enter the gallery.

Joelle was working, of course, and called out a “hi” to Lucas he came inside. Her gaze slid questioningly toward Margot, and he said hastily, “Joelle, this is Margot Emory. She’s a cousin of Angela’s.”

“Oh, hi — nice to meet you!” Joelle chirped. She tended to be cheery all the time, which made things easier for Connor, as he wasn’t exactly what you could call a good salesman. Although Joelle was a civilian, she knew there was something slightly different about the Wilcox family, although of course she didn’t have many details. But she knew enough to realize that Lucas Wilcox having a cousin of Angela’s as his companion was kind of a big deal.

“I’m just showing her around a bit,” he explained, hoping she would get the hint and not be too inquisitive.

“Oh, sure, take a look around. Connor’s not coming in today — I’m sure he’ll be sorry that he missed you.”

“It’s fine,” Lucas said hastily. The last thing he wanted was interruptions from any of his relatives, even one as hands-off as Connor. “I talked to him the day before yesterday.” Which was sort of a non sequitur, but it did seem to get Joelle to back off.

“Great,” she responded, and went back to knotting tiny price tags on threads, no doubt gearing up to prepare a new collection of local artisanal jewelry for the holiday buying season.

In the meantime, Margot had wandered a few paces away and was studying an abstract sculpture of dichroic glass and brazed brass tubing. From what he’d seen on the gallery walk with her, it didn’t seem to be her kind of thing. He approached her and said, “Like it?”

She tipped her head to one side, her attention seeming to be completely focused on the piece. “I’m not sure yet. I’m trying to decide whether I do or not. It’s interesting, though.”

“Connor’s trying to branch out, I think.” There wasn’t much more Lucas could say on the subject, as art — modern or otherwise — was not his field of expertise.

“It’s a very nice gallery,” she said. “Intimate, but not crowded. A good use of space.”

“I’ll pass your compliments on to Connor,” Lucas said with a wry smile.

Her eyebrows went up, and then she gave a small laugh. “Oh, I suppose that sounds as if I was critiquing it or something. I just meant that it’s very nice.”

“‘Nice’ works.”

They spent another five minutes or so poking around, and then he led her back outside, where the afternoon had started to look somewhat darker. Clouds were beginning to pile up to the northeast, moving their way.

“Is it going to rain?” Margot asked, following his gaze.

“I doubt it. Nothing’s been forecast. But I was thinking about taking you up to the observatory, so we might as well head straight there in case it gets too cloudy to see anything.”

She nodded, and followed him as he led her back to the parking structure. Normally he didn’t pay much attention to the weather, except to make sure he’d have a clear day for playing golf. Now, though, he cast a wary eye toward the sky, and wondered if Mother Nature had decided to throw a monkey wrench into his plans.