The Art of Love (The Windswept Saga) Page 2

  He nodded but his mouth remained agape, and he became conscious that he looked like a fool. “I’m sorry to hear that, Taylor.” His mouth pulled shut and his jaw trembled with anxiety. Damn, why did he feel so apprehensive around Taylor? Just because he hadn’t seen her for the better part of ten years…just because she’d been his first love. Calm down, cowboy intoned the voice in his head—his father’s voice. “Are you living at home again?” He moved his head from side to side. “I’m sorry, that’s none of my business.”

  “It’s fine,” she responded. “Yes, I’m living with my mom again.”

  Stillness descended between them as they surveyed one another. Taylor noted that Chandler’s face had sharpened up, become more angular. He’d matured into a taller, leaner version of his father, blessed with his mother’s gentle expressions and ease of empathy. Somehow his blue eyes had grown bluer, and they appeared to read every line of worry on her face. It was no surprise when he was the first to attempt dialogue.

  “So…” His inarticulate response trailed off into the silence.

  “What am I doing here?” Taylor assisted.

  He laughed uneasily. “What are you doing here?”

  “My mother told me there was a job opening at this locale, but I think I’ve made a mistake.”

  He raised a hand, fearful that she might bolt out the door before they had a chance to have a decent conversation. “Did you bring a résumé?”

  She handed him the stationary detailing her education and work history. “Your listing said to apply within. I hope it’s okay that I showed up without making an appointment.”

  “It’s completely fine,” he responded, his gaze locked onto the paper. “Medical records?”

  “Yeah,” she said, “just like…”

  “My mother,” he finished. “She’s a pretty good influence.”

  “I had all of her cookbooks back in New York,” Taylor admitted, “and I used them frequently. I bought them home with me, but I don’t think they’ll get much use in Mom’s kitchen.”

  Chandler looked into her eyes and smiled. “How is Miss Alice? I see her every now and then but it’s been a while since we’ve actually spoken.”

  “She’s in better shape than I am,” Taylor replied. “That’s a big part of the reason I came back home. She can keep me on an even keel.”

  Chandler laid the résumé flat on the counter and smiled at her. “Look, you’re the first person to come in here with the requisite skills. You know something about customer service, and you know how to answer a phone. Personal history aside, if you want the job, it’s yours.”

  “Could I have a day to think about it?”

  “Of course.” Chandler stared at her—God, she’d only grown more beautiful. Her face was rounder and her hair was longer, and she was definitely a woman now. Those killer green eyes hadn’t dimmed, either, but somehow they seemed more seasoned, worldly. “Is your mom going to watch your son while you work? Riley, wasn’t it? I saw a picture of him once but…he must older by now.”

  Taylor’s heart clenched and the room spun onto its side. “Chandler.” She lowered her face, rested her chin atop her chest, and gathered up her thoughts. “Riley died, around two years ago.”

  He gripped the edge of the counter to hold himself upright and stood there, immobile, the world ceasing to make sense. He met her wet eyes and shook his head in contrition. “I’m so sorry, Taylor. Shit, I’m sorry. Dammit. I didn’t know.”

  “It’s okay,” she replied weakly. She wiped a tear from her eye. “I didn’t really expect to find you here, Chandler. Of all people, I figured you’d travel far from home and never look back.”

  He frowned, the guilt locking around his limbs now. It didn’t make sense that he wouldn’t have known something important about the girl he loved…or loved, once upon a time. His brain seemed confused about what she really was. “I traveled some,” he expounded. “I always returned here when I needed a place to rest.” He stared down at her resume again, not reading the words so much as distracting himself. “I really am sorry about Riley,” he repeated. “That must’ve been the worst thing in the world.”

  “It was,” she confirmed. “I’ve now experienced enough heartbreak to last a lifetime.”

  “Do you need to sit down?” Their eyes met and she felt safe there in his gaze. She also felt vulnerable, a massive contradiction. “There’s an office in the back. I just hadn’t gotten around to placing a seat up front because it’s been only me here.”

  “I’ll be fine,” she assured him, not because she believed it but because she had to be. She missed Riley every day, finding that he haunted her dreams and silent moments. She’d hear his laugh or see him playing in a park—but it was never him, just a mirage, wishful thinking. Her mother insisted this was normal; sometimes, she could still hear Joseph’s voice, years after his death. Either it was truly okay, or the Holt women had gone around the bend together. “Look,” she said, turning toward the door, “it was great to see you again, Chandler, but I’m not sure this would be the right move for either of us.”

  He stepped around the counter at lightning speed and took her right hand in his. Too familiar, he knew, but he couldn’t shake the feeling in his brain that this was happening for a reason. He wished he could’ve known Riley, or even met Taylor’s ex-husband. She’d gone through a lot in their years apart, but she stood straight and firm, responding to the touch of his hand with a questioning gaze. “You can use both the distraction and the job, right?”

  She nodded reluctantly. “Right.”

  “And I could definitely use someone with experience to help me get this thing off the ground.”

  Taylor looked around, trying to keep her mind off the warmth of his hand as his fingers squeezed hers. “An art gallery, huh?”

  “Yeah.” He laughed. “Ever think you’d see the day?”

  “Maybe.” She returned her eyes to his face. “Okay. But level with me. Are you selling any paintings?”

  “Here and there,” he said with a shrug. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I sold one to Rafe Rader.”

  “Rafe Rader?” Her eyebrows shot skyward. “That scrawny guy we saw in concert?”

  Chandler laughed and nodded. “That scrawny guy has a beautiful log home in East Tennessee and a fat bank account.”

  “And a wall of platinum albums.” Taylor smiled. “Yeah, I remember him. Okay, I’ll work for you. One condition, though.”

  “Name it.”

  “Don’t pry into my personal life, Chandler. If I want to share with you, I will. But don’t go behind my back or force me to open up. I’m your employee, and you’re my boss.”

  “Deal.” He slid his thumb around and they shook on it. “Do you want the fifty-cent tour?”

  Taylor shook her head and glanced toward the door. “Tomorrow. I’ll be here at eight AM and we can take care of it then.”

  Chandler relinquished her hand after what felt like an eternity. “I’ll see you then. And, Taylor?”

  “Yes?” She was halfway out the door, but turned back and gave him her best smile.

  “Say hello to your mom for me.”

  “Sure thing.” She smiled again, closed-mouth this time. “See you tomorrow.”

  “See ya.”

  Chandler exhaled sharply, suddenly cognizant that he’d all but stopped breathing the moment she reentered his life.

  ***

  Taylor was only mildly annoyed with her mother; Alice had meant no harm in her employment/matchmaking endeavor, but Taylor was more than capable of holding some semblance of a life together. She laid her keys and purse down on the console table and went into the living room to speak with her mother. Instead she found Alice transfixed by the television, watching her favorite soap opera.

  “Mom, I have a bone to pick with you.”

  “Not now, sweetheart—my story is on.” She lifted one finger to quiet her daughter. “Raven just found out that Mitch is sleeping with her sister.”

  Tay
lor found a place beside her mother, in the other matching wingback chair, and maneuvered her eyes toward the television screen. Whatever had gone wrong in her life, she was thankful to have never played out such a dramatic scene. Life had torn her and Liam apart, not another woman. The next commercial break heralded the return of Alice’s attention, however briefly, to her daughter.

  “You had a bone to pick with me.”

  Taylor laughed at the image that popped into her head. “You left out the smallest detail when you sent me down to that art gallery to respond to the job opening.”

  Alice feigned confusion. “I clipped the ad out for you if you’d like to reread it. I didn’t provide any information that wasn’t given.”

  She replied to her mother with a sarcastic grin. “You neglected to mention that Chandler Adams was the proprietor of that establishment.”

  “I did?”

  “Yes, Mom, you did.”

  Her gaze drifted back toward the TV, but a commercial blocked her from nipping the conversation in two. “Taylor, honey, when you dated that boy he was cute. Now, though, he is fine.” Taylor stifled a guffaw at her mother’s description of Chandler’s looks. “He’s single, has good morals, excellent manners, and possesses more talent and ambition than any young man I’ve ever known.”

  She examined her mother’s words and summoned a mental picture of her ex-boyfriend: short, tidy blonde hair; endless blue eyes; great smile; and taller than her by good margin. Liam could look directly in her eyes, but Chandler always had to duck his head for her, pull her into his arms for a kiss. Holy hell, where did that memory come from? “He was handsome, Mom, and it was nice to see him again, but…”

  “But?”

  “This is not the time for romance. A man trying to get a business up and running doesn’t need that kind of distraction. And a divorcée trying to figure out what to do without her only child would merely be a distraction.”

  “You turned him down?” Alice rubbernecked toward the TV. “Raven, you idiot, you should have stuck with Blade!”

  Taylor studied the program along with her mother—she knew the characters, too, and had a passing knowledge of their plights. “I said I’d take the job,” she murmured on the next ad break.

  Alice’s face lit up with surprised joy. “I thought you had a bone to pick with me, but you wound up getting hired.”

  “He insisted I was the first person to show up who possessed any sort of clerical skills.”

  “Naturally,” Alice responded. “He turns them away, but don’t think women don’t notice him. He’s not hurting for money, either. Any woman would be lucky to have him.” Taylor rolled her eyes, kind of taken aback at her mother’s attempts to sell Chandler on her. It was all unnecessary, of course—she’d known a long time ago that he was cut from a different cloth than most.

  “I loved Chandler for who he was, not what he could give me. I always knew that he was going places, and likely without me. That’s why I didn’t pursue a long-distance relationship with him.”

  “Uh-huh.” Alice stared, bemused, as Raven chucked her engagement ring at Mitch’s forehead and bolted out the foyer of his mansion. “You got scared, dear. I’m not saying Liam wasn’t a good husband for you, because he was. I adored how sweet he was to you and how good he was with Riley. That life is gone forever, though, and it’s time for you to stop lying to yourself.” The announcer prompted her to tune in tomorrow for the next installment, and she muted the television. “I’m not trying to be mean, Taylor.”

  “I know.” She nodded in understanding. “There’s not a mean or malicious bone in your body.” She rested her elbow atop the arm of the chair, and placed her chin in hand. “You only want me to be happy.”

  Alice laced her fingers together and smiled sympathetically. “I don’t expect you to do jumping jacks on the front lawn, but some time away from the house can only help.”

  “And I won’t keep interrupting your soap.”

  “Exactly.”

  Both women laughed. “Okay,” Taylor said, rising to her feet, “I am going to do some research for my new career.”

  Alice’s mouth quirked up on one side. “Romantic research?”

  Taylor frowned. “Hardly. I’d like to see how hard it is to run an art gallery.”

  “Have fun.” Taylor watched as her mom searched through the digital recorder. Some people replayed touchdowns; others, daytime drama.

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  ***

  Chandler stepped across the threshold and found the house silent, quiet and peaceful. A rare occurrence, given the amount of life that’d passed through these walls over the years. He removed his hat and hung it up before he crossed into the living room. He could hear the keystrokes of the computer, the first sign of life.

  “In here, Chandler,” his mother called out from behind the French door, slightly ajar. He stuck his head in the door and smiled. Bryn was blogging with one hand and editing a manuscript with the other. She never stopped, never slowed down, except when absolutely necessary. He admired her abilities and knew he’d inherited his proclivity for multitasking from her.

  “How’d you know it was me, Mom?”

  Bryn pushed her eyeglasses up her nose and laughed softly. Her long silver hair was corralled down her back and a pencil was stuck atop one ear. “Your brother walks with no hurry in his step, like a man completely at ease and content with his life. Your sister has steps that are firm and solid, and, being the shortest, takes smaller strides. And you, my baby, walk everywhere with a purpose.” She frowned and hit the page with her pencil’s eraser. “Also, you usually smell like varnish.” Bryn glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and smiled. He may have hated being called a baby, but that’s still how she saw him, no matter how tall he’d grown. The town’s newest entrepreneur was still her youngest bundle of joy.

  Chandler sat awkwardly on the arm of the couch that folded out into a guest bed. With the nest empty it seemed unnecessary, but this was Bryn’s office and her decision to keep old furniture around was none of his business. He swallowed hard and steeled himself. “Mom, why didn’t you tell me that Riley died?”

  He watched as Bryn’s back stiffened. She didn’t turn to face him, though, when her reply came forth. “I didn’t quite see the point. That period of your life was over for good and I didn’t know if you were ever coming home to stay. Taylor had a husband to lean on, which is exactly how it should have been.” He noted that she’d posted her latest blog and shut down her computer. “And, honestly, I didn’t even know where you were. Do you remember?”

  He cleared his throat, but spoke in a hoarse, wounded tone. “I thought Amsterdam at first. Then I did some mental calculations and realized I was in Kentucky, with Dr. Devane. I could have caught a flight home.”

  Bryn rubbed her forehead, overcome with a twinge of guilt. “He’s buried next to her father, in the cemetery. I was wrong not to tell you, wasn’t I?”

  Chandler pursed his lips together before expelling a sharp breath. “She’s divorced and living with Miss Alice again.”

  She wheeled around in her chair and smiled as their eyes met. “You saw her.”

  “She came into the gallery, asking about my job posting. Miss Alice’s handiwork.”

  Bryn smiled, more pensively this time. “I always adored Taylor.”

  “But?”

  “She has experienced unimaginable pain. To lose her father, her child, and her marriage, all in the space of ten years? I wouldn’t be upright after that. I’d be in a dark room somewhere.”

  “You don’t think should have given her the job.”

  “I’m not saying that, Chandler. You are your own man.” She held her open palm out to him. “Tread lightly. Give the woman room to breathe. If romance is going to happen, let it happen in its own time. I don’t know if there’s still a spark between the two of you but…I imagine there is. It can be hard to turn off feelings of first love.”

  Chandler was well aware of the feelings s
he’d stirred inside him, but he didn’t feel comfortable sharing those with his mother. Not at this juncture. “I loved her.”

  Bryn nodded. “I know you did. People change, though. Ten years is a very long time and you’ve lived separate lives. Hers was likely very happy until it turned sad. Yours was fulfilled but lonely, solitary.” Chandler had never been great at keeping his emotions from displaying across his face like the headlines on newsprint; even when he tried for an impartial countenance, his mother could read him like a book. “I can see that you’re a little hurt by the omission. Any of us could have told you but it might have been more straightforward coming from me. The death of a child is never easy but you’re more sensitive than most.”

  “I’m not mad, Mom. I’m just…conflicted. I’m not sure what I feel.”

  “You feel like fate has given you a second chance.”

  He nodded slowly. “And I feel guilty. My feelings for her, whatever they were, whatever they might be in the future—they hinge on a tragic event in her life.”

  “Do you think you have feelings for her, after today?” Bryn removed her eyeglasses and laid them on the desk.

  Chandler shook his head breathlessly. “Any man would be a fool not to, Mom. She’s beautiful. I almost can’t believe how beautiful she’s become over the years. It was like…seeing her for the first time, all over again. Does that make sense?”

  “Complete sense. I’ve fallen in love with your father, oh, forty times now.” She laughed and Chandler joined in.

  “Speaking of, where is the old man today?”

  “Your father is out in the knee-deep snow with your brother, and Sam and Mark, checking the herd.”

  Chandler’s eyebrows shot upward. “And you didn’t try to stop him?”