Page 25 of Dangerous December
“Maybe she’s in the midst of some major art sales? Trouble with difficult artists?”
Beth bit her lower lip. “I doubt it. She carries very nice originals, but not major names. She enjoys giving newer artists exposure by giving them space for their shows, so the public has a chance to get in on the ground floor with some of their pieces. Everybody’s happy.”
Janet held up her hands, palm up. “So...what does that mean, exactly—ground floor?”
“The oils are usually less than five hundred, the pottery and art glass less than a hundred.”
“Which is about what you find in the galleries around town. So if she did move here, she could easily fit right in.”
“True. And coming back to town would be a good thing. I’m worried about her, really...I think something’s wrong and she just won’t admit it.” Beth reached for the cell phone in her purse. “My mother can be one very stubborn lady.”
Dev got out of his Jeep to study the building next to the bookstore. The lawyer had arranged to get him the keys so he could do a quick walk-through inspection.
As always, the bookstore caught his eye, and he found himself wondering if he might catch a glimpse of Beth through the big plate-glass front windows...though this time, he saw Maura coming out the door.
She stared at him. Hesitated. Then beckoned.
This couldn’t be good.
But when she beckoned again, he sighed and crossed the street. At the age of thirty-four, he felt like a schoolboy being brought into the principal’s office.
She moved a few yards down the sidewalk, out of sight of the store windows. Her expression was troubled. “Look, you and I have had our differences over the years, even if they were mostly unspoken. Since I’ll only be here another week or so, I...well, I thought I’d better just come out and say it.” Her voice was flat, without anger, but he had no doubt that she meant every last word. “I’ve been worrying about you spending time with my daughter.”
No one could say Maura didn’t speak her mind. The irony was that his own parents hadn’t approved of Beth any more than Maura had approved of him. “We only have a business relationship. Nothing more.”
“Isawthe look in your eyes when you came into the store.”
Whatlook in his eyes? Dev jammed his hands into his jacket pockets. “Your daughter has no interest in resurrecting a relationship with me. And that’s not what I’m after, either.”
“I don’t want her hurt again.”
“I never meant to let that happen. But she has already moved on. She has a good life—far better than she would’ve had with me.”
“A good life?” Maura’s gaze riveted on his, as if she were daring him to feel the pain he’d caused. “Someday, you two need to talk about this.”
Her quiet vehemence startled him. “We have.”
“No...not everything.” Maura bit her lip, as if she were debating saying more, then sighed. “Leave her alone, Devlin. Don’t have a little fling with the past and fly off to wherever it is you go these days. I trust you’re a better man than that.”
But the expression in her eyes showed that she didn’t trust him at all.
Beth’s phone messages on Tuesday had all been about the same topic—setting up a youth project for cleaning up the Walker Building.
Olivia and Pastor Jamison had been brimming with enthusiasm, while Dev apparently wanted to fend them off so he could continue down his solitary path—preferring silence and slow progress to a legion of teenagers eager to do a good deed.
When Beth finally convinced him this morning that gracious acceptance was the fastest way to satisfy everyone and then be left alone, he had grudgingly agreed.
Now, Beth stood with him in the center of the building on Wednesday evening, watching two dozen teens haul the final garbage bags of refuse down the open stairway to the second floor.
As industrious as a legion of ants, they’d already cleared the first level, leaving another youth squadron to scrub the filthy hardwood floors with brushes and buckets.
“I told you this was a great idea,” Beth said, slapping her dusty gloves against her jeans. “They’re just about done. What they have finished in four hours would have taken you a week.And you’re helping them raise funds, to boot.”
Dev snorted. “Not if they have anything to say about it. So far, Pastor Jamison and the kids have refused payment, other than the delivery of pizza and pop that’s on its way right now.”
She looked up at him and fought the urge to brush away a fragile cobweb drifting across the deep waves of his hair. A tender move entirely too intimate and wifely.
Past boundaries she had no intention of crossing.
