“That one is stiff now,” he said, pointing out the way the fabric wouldn’t hang.
“I know,” she said. “That’s why I need to order another batch.”
“I presume that’s something Anita does for you?”
She nodded. “They should be on reorder, or whatever, that automatic ordering system. Is that what everybody uses these days?”
“You’re right, one delivery a month.”
“It is what it is,” she said. “The cost of doing business.”
“You make good money,” he said. “You should order what is needed. Then, at least, you don’t have to put one on if it doesn’t make you feel good.”
“How did you know that was often the determining factor, as to whether I wore the one I had or went to get a new one?”
“Because you’re all about feelings,” he said. “Now maybe you’ll listen to me and go home and get some food and make it an early night.”
“I had a good night last night,” she said. But she nodded, looked down at her paint-covered hands, even though she’d washed them several times already, and shook her head. “Definitely time for a shower with a big scrub brush again.”
He grinned. “You could paint your nails. Then you would look like it was part of it,” he said.
She looked at her nails that, even though she had scrubbed them, still had bits and droplets from splatter. “My hair is covered anyway,” she said.
He turned, looked at her intently, and then chuckled. “It is, indeed.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “And, on that note, I’m heading home. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Aren’t you coming back here again?”
She shook her head. “No, I’ve got appointments at the gallery with the models first thing in the morning, and then I’ll be back here, probably eleven-ish, to see what else we need to finish up.”
“When is this live?”
“Next week Saturday,” she said.
“Right. So my model has probably not got enough time.”
“I’ll look when I get home. That’s the best I can do,” she said.
He smiled, nodded, and said, “I just appreciate you taking the moment.”
She gave him a small finger wave and headed to where her raincoat and purse and boots were.
When she quickly dressed in her outer layers, it covered up a little bit of the paint. But not much. When she turned around, purse in her hand, she came face-to-face with Richard.
He frowned at her, his gaze on her painted hair. “New fashion?”
“I’m setting the trend,” she said blithely. “And obviously this is my look.”
They both laughed, and, for that, she was also grateful. When he smiled, something spontaneous went through him, and she realized that was one of the same elements that she saw in Elena. The trouble was, with Richard, he didn’t let that part of him out all that often, whereas Elena lived in that spontaneous world, and her darkness didn’t come out very much.
They all had the darkness. Everybody either hid it or reveled in it, but everybody had it.
“Come on. Let’s get you home,” he said.
She looked at him in surprise. “You don’t have to escort me home,” she said.
“I know I don’t have to,” he said, “but I want to.” He held out his elbow.
Surprise was the only reason she allowed herself to react, she followed her instincts, and she slipped her arm through his. She stepped forward and walked beside him. Feeling an intense gaze on her back, she turned to see Frankie staring at the two of them. She gave a half shrug and a smile, saying, “See you tomorrow, Frankie.” He lifted a hand, and she turned and walked out.
“Is there something between you and Frankie?”
“I already told you there wasn’t anything between us,” she said, “but I haven’t done something like this in a long time. So, of course, Frankie’s surprised, and especially that it’s you. Frankie’s now figuring out if it’s personal or business.”
“And have you worked that out?”
She stilled, but he dragged her forward another step. She continued to walk at his side. “Are you telling me there’s a choice?”
“If you haven’t figured that out already,” he said, “you’re slow. And I know for a fact that you’re not slow.”
“You don’t know me that well,” she said defensively.
Once outside, he laughed.
“How do you know I didn’t drive today?” she asked.
“I was here this morning. Remember?”
“Right,” she said.
He led her toward a conservative-looking sedan. Surprised, she asked, “Ghost car?”
He looked at her, grinned, and said, “No, it’s my own.”
“This is not what I envisioned you driving.”
“This is my work vehicle,” he said cheerfully. “I do have a Jeep for weekends and playtime.”
At that, she couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “Now that would make more sense to me. Please tell me that it’s some ultrabright color that’s the complete antithesis of this sedate conservative vehicle in front of me.”
“Lime green. Does that work?”
She stared at him in fascination. “Actually, that’s perfect! The artist in me definitely approves.”
“When is this arctic showing?”
“Next week Saturday,” she said. “My current problem is I need to find a model.”
“Even in a pinch, you won’t use Naomi?”
“No. Not even in a pinch. I will no longer use Naomi. Ever.”
“And what about finding the others?”
“I’m definitely interested in some. I’ll see them all in person tomorrow.”
“I guess you need that, don’t you?”
“People in pictures are one thing. Pictures can be tweaked, some more than others. In this case, I need to see the models. I need to see their skin tone. I need to see scars. I need to see tattoos,” she said with a one-armed shrug. “People hide all kinds of things, and, when you get to what they’re really like, we’ll deal with it. I don’t want to deal with it at the last minute. I want to know what I have going in.”
“I presume you can cover it all up?”
“Absolutely I can cover it all up, but it takes time, accuracy, and I may have to alter pictures. And, yes, I can do that in the moment, but why should I have to?”
He helped her into the vehicle, closed
