Page 11 of A Small Town Spring

“Ah, there it is,” Toby says, fishing a black cell phone from out between creased copies ofArchitectural Digestand theNew Yorker.“Thanks, Kingston.”

“Happy to be of service,” I reply.

He fiddles with the phone for a moment and then my phone, still in my hand, buzzes.

I look down to see the answering text.

This is Tobias Eric Wheaton.

I have no idea why he gave me his full name, but I carefully copy and paste it into my contacts before we say goodbye.Pete’s full of excitement over Ivy’s sculptures.“She’s being modest—she’s talked to some dealers in London, but nothing ever worked out.I’m calling Fernanda when I get home.She’ll know what to do.”

After dropping Pete off,I go home and putter around and try not to think about how my exposure therapy to Toby today backfired.Now that I’ve seen his work, I only find him more attractive, not less.

Part of me wonders if I’ve just been so lonely lately that I latched onto the first guy to turn my head in a while.If so, having him over won’t be a big deal, because these feelings aren’t real.And when I get back to the city, I could try hooking up.Or not.I don’t have to have sex with someone to prove I’m not into Tobias Eric Wheaton.

Five

The next afternoonJack and I agree to meet up at Hot Brew, the coffee shop that anchors the middle of Main Street.I get there first and order a chai from Ruth.Someone’s sitting at Jack’s favorite table by the window, so I stand near the counter while I wait.Jack appears a moment later, dressed in sneakers and joggers.He nods at me in acknowledgment, orders, then looks at the occupied table and raises his eyebrows as if to ask me, “What the hell?”

I shrug.He doesn’t actually own the place.I point to an empty table in the corner, and he slowly walks there.

“The nerve of some people,” I say mildly.

“Tell me about it,” he says, without heat.“So, what’s up?”

“You’re all business today.”

“I’m a little tired.Pete couldn’t stop talking about Ivy and Toby last night.He’s all fired up about getting them in touch with Fernanda—both of them.”

“Good.”They both have talent, smarts, and a ready-to-go body of work.Any agent would be lucky to take them on.

“What did you think of them?”he asks.

I have to consider how to respond.“Ivy is formidable, and her work really was surprising and accessible.Not that I’m an expert.”

“Well, you know quality,” he says.

“True.I do have unimpeachable taste.”

He doesn’t respond to that.“And Toby’s stuff?What did you think?”

Jack frowns at me when I don’t respond right away, not knowing how to put it into words.

“You don’t like his work?”he asks, sounding confused.

“No—it’s sensational.He has, as Ivy describes it, a spark.”

“But?”

“No buts.He should be selling out shows within a year, especially with someone like Fernanda guiding him.But before he blows up, I’ve asked him to do my cottage.”

“Oh.”Jack sits back in his chair, his face lighting up.“That’s an amazing idea.Why didn’t I think of that?Do you think he’d do our place?How much does he charge?Never mind, it doesn’t matter.How long does it take?Probably too soon to get it done for Pete’s birthday, right?That’s not until July.Maybe if I paid extra?”

“Hold up,” I say stoutly.“And get in line.He likes you and Pete, so he’ll probably do it.But mine first.”

Jack waves away my protest.“Fine.But that’s not what you wanted to talk about, is it?”

I’ve known Pete longer than Jack, but Jack’s more tuned into the publishing world.I’d also trust him with my life, so I know if I run some semi-confidential things by him, he won’t breathe a word.The publishing industry can be a gossipy place.

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