Rainshadow Road

“No problem. I can set you up with Sam now. As long as Zoл has no objections.”

“None,” Zoл said distinctly. “I’m not interested.”

Justine let out an exasperated laugh. “Your loss, Lucy’s gain.”

“I’m not interested either,” Lucy said. “It’s only been two months since my breakup. And the rule is that you have to wait for exactly half the time of the relationship … which for me would be about a year.”

“That’s not the rule,” Justine exclaimed. “You only have to wait one month for each year of the relationship.”

“I think all these rules are ridiculous,” Zoл said. “Lucy, you should let your instincts guide you. You’ll know when you’re ready again.”

“I don’t trust my instincts where men are concerned,” Lucy said. “It’s like this article I read the other day about the decline of the firefly population. One of the reasons they’re disappearing is because of modern artificial lighting. Fireflies can’t find the signals of their mates, because they’re so distracted by porch lights, streetlamps, illuminated sign letters…”

“Poor things,” Zoл said.

“Exactly,” Lucy said. “You think you’ve found the perfect mate and you head for him, blinking as fast as you can, and then you find out he’s a Bic lighter. I just can’t handle that again.”

Justine shook her head slowly as she looked at the two of them. “Life is a banquet, and you are both wandering around with chronic indigestion.”

* * *

After helping the Hoffmans to set up for the reading party, Lucy went up to her room. Sitting cross-legged on the bed with her laptop, she checked her e-mail, and found a message from a former professor and mentor, Dr. Alan Spellman. He had recently been appointed as the arts and industry coordinator at the world-renowned Mitchell Art Center in New York.

Dear Lucy,

Remember the Artist in Residence program I mentioned last time we talked? A full year, all expenses paid, working with artists from all around the world. You would be perfect for it. I believe you have a unique sense of glass as a medium, whereas too many modern artists overlook its illusory possibilities. This grant would give you the freedom to experiment in ways that would be difficult—if not impossible—for you in your current circumstances.

Let me know if you decide to give it a shot. The application form is attached. I’ve already put in a word for you, and they’re excited about the chance to make something happen.

Best,

Alan Spellman

The chance of a lifetime—a year in New York to study and experiment with glass.

Clicking on a link at the bottom of the e-mail, Lucy glanced over the application requirements—a one-page proposal, a cover letter, and twenty digital images of her work. For one tantalizing moment, she let herself think about it.

A new place … a new beginning.

But the likelihood of being chosen over all the other applicants was so slight that she wondered why she was even bothering.

Who are you, to think you have a chance at this? she asked herself.

But then another thought occurred to her … Who are you, to not at least try?

Seven

“I need to talk to you, Lucy,” her mother had said on the answering machine. “Call me when you get a minute in private. Please don’t put this off, it’s important.”

Despite the urgency in her mother’s voice, Lucy hadn’t yet returned the call. She had no doubt that the message had something to do with Alice, and she wanted just one day of not thinking or talking about her younger sister. Instead she had spent the afternoon packing her latest finished pieces and taking them to a couple of shops in Friday Harbor.

“Wonderful,” Susan Seburg, a shop manager and a friend, exclaimed as she viewed the selection of glass mosaic pieces that Lucy had brought. It was a series of women’s shoes: pumps, high-heeled sandals, wedges, and even a pair of sneakers. They were all made of glass, tile, crystals, and beads. “Oh, I wish I could actually wear them! You know someone’s going to come in and buy the entire set at once. Lately I can’t keep your work on the shelves—it sells as soon as I set it out.”

“That’s good to hear,” Lucy said.

“There’s something so charming and … I don’t know, special … about your recent stuff. A couple of customers are thinking of asking you to do something on commission.”

“That’s great. I can always use the work.”

“Yes, it’s good to stay busy.” Setting down the accent lamp, Susan gave her a compassionate look. “I imagine it helps to keep your mind off what’s happening.” Seeing Lucy’s blank expression, she clarified, “With Kevin Pearson and your sister.”

Lucy dropped her gaze to her phone schedule planner. “You mean the two of them living together?”

“That, and the wedding.”

“Wedding?” Lucy repeated faintly. It seemed as if a sheet of ice had instantly formed beneath her feet. Any direction she tried to go in, she was guaranteed to slip and fall.

Susan’s face changed. “You didn’t know? Shit. I’m sorry, Lucy, I would never have wanted to be the one to tell you.”

“They’re engaged?” Lucy couldn’t believe it. How had Alice managed to convince Kevin to make such a commitment? “I don’t mind the idea of getting married, someday,” he had once told Lucy, “but it’s not something I’d ever rush into. I mean, I’m willing to stay with someone, by choice, for a long time. But how exactly is that different from marriage?”

“It’s a different level,” Lucy had said.