Page 35 of Fresh Canvas
I didn’t want to stand there and watch, so I grabbed a smaller broom off the cart. We swept in silence for a few minutes.
“So, how do you know Val?” I couldn’t resist finding out more about their friendship.
“I actually met him on his first day here. He reminds me a lot of my younger self. Perpetually angry.” His blue eyes twinkled. “But a good man.”
My broom moved mindlessly back and forth.
“He really showed up for me last winter. I’ve been trying to repay him ever since.”
“What happened?”
“My heart almost stopped. Heart attack.”
My grip on the broom tightened as the memory of Dad threatened to shatter me. I swallowed hard and forced away the image of Dad’s falling Vikings cap.
“I had chest pain all day, with not a second to pay attention to it. I thought it would go away. Val wouldn’t stop pestering me until I let him take me to the hospital.” Rick chuckled. “Good thing he did, too. Heart attack right as I walked in those doors.After that, I just couldn’t do my job anymore. Nothing over twenty pounds, the docs said. Kendra was gonna let me go.”
Rick shook his head at my sympathetic expression with a white stubbled grin. “Don’t worry, darlin’. Val convinced her to let me stay on—promised he’d do any heavy lifting I couldn’t. We all thought I’d heal faster, though. Still can’t do much these days, but between my technical crew and Val, we do just fine.” He shrugged, the shoulders of his blue, industrial jumpsuit rising and falling.
I tried to categorize the selfless man Rick spoke of with Val Russo, but couldn’t.
Very square peg.
Very round you-know-what-hole.
“That poor sucker,” Rick chortled, his tufts of white hair waving back and forth as he shook his head. “All the heavy crates he’s had to lug up those front museum steps…”
My breath caught. I remembered the day I had met Val on those wintery steps. How he had strained with the artifact crate and cursed me to get out of his way.
Val had been saving Rick’s job?
I couldn’t help wishing that someone like Val had been there to bully my Dad into going to the hospital sooner. Maybe then he’d still be alive.A metallic clang interrupted my thoughts.
Val appeared, panting and sweating as he pushed an overflowing industrial cart. His brawny biceps stretched the sleeves of his dress shirt as the cocktail tables, screens, and ladders rattled as he pushed.
It was like I’d never seen him before.
By the time the floors were cleaned, Val had returned with three different carts. I had to give him credit. Val was in unbelievable shape.All of the things Rick had told me about him were doing funny things to my brain. Each time my eyes strayed to Val, I couldn’t feel anything but confusion. So I tried to not stare.
Or at least, I tried not to get caught.
Rick lifted and placed the pieces he could while I assistedVal with the heavy, portable walls. Val bent and unlocked the small bronze wheels beneath the wall and stationed himself on one side of it.
I braced myself against the other side of the wall and pushed with all the atrophied muscles left in my under-exercised mom bod. The wheels screeched in protest as Val and I began to drag the six-foot-wide wall to the front of the hall. I shut my eyes and held my breath until it finally rolled into place.
Catching sight of my beet-red face, Val laughed, the deep sound echoing throughout the hall. The smarmy look on his face threatened to dissolve everything Rick had told me about Val.
“Shut up, Russo,” I huffed, stalking away to the next wall and bracing myself against one side. Val folded his arms and watched me attempt to push it myself.
“Hey, I have a lot to pay you back for from that pottery class,” he said.
“It’s not my fault you suck at pottery. You were threatening the museum’s reputation with your ugly vase. And I don’tneedyour help.” I wheezed as I pushed the heavy wall, which didn’t budge an inch.
Val smirked, walked over, bent down, and flicked the bronze latches on the wheels to unlock them. I flushed hotter than I already was.
“Obviously, you do,” he said. “You’re just too stubborn to admit it.”
I bit my tongue as he finally got into position to pull. Fine, I needed his help. But he was right—I’d never admit it unless I was being tortured or questioned by the CIA.
