“Gabriella is a very good friend,” he confirmed, deliberately keeping his tone neutral.
Eight-year-old Bryce wandered into the living room with a can of soda. Not known for mincing words, he inquired, “How come Mommy doesn’t like her?”
Louise flushed at the comment. “Bryce Carter, I never said I didn’t like her,” she corrected hurriedly. “What I said was, I have some reservations about the situation.”
Wade had a hunch that his nephew had interpreted her remarks exactly right. “You do know that I’m a grown man who’s perfectly aware of the pros and cons of getting involved with a woman under these circumstances?” he said, holding his sister’s gaze.
“I’m not so sure of that,” she replied, her big-sister I-know-best frown firmly in place.
“I am,” he countered, lifting Chelsea into the air until she squealed. “You need to leave it alone.”
“How can I?”
“Find a way,” he said firmly, glancing from his niece to his sister. “And next time we’re all together, you might also find a way to lose the attitude. You made everyone uncomfortable on Sunday.”
Louise looked vaguely chagrined. “That’s what Zack said. Since he’s usually oblivious to the undercurrents in a room, I figured it must have been bad.”
“It was,” Wade confirmed. “Mother would have been appalled.”
Louise laughed. “Who are you kidding? Mother would have done a cross-examination that would make me look like a novice. Did you not hear her when I brought Zack home the first time? It’s a wonder the man ever asked me on another date.” She grinned. “Of course, the fact that he did earned him a huge number of points for courage in my book.”
Her expression sobered. “You do know I only want the best for you. I don’t want to see you hurt again. What happened with Kayla and the baby twisted you in knots.”
Wade sighed. He certainly couldn’t argue with that. And Louise didn’t even know all of it. If she did, she’d lock him in a closet until Gabi—and the danger she represented—left town.
Just then his cell phone rang. Caller ID showed it was Gabi. “I need to take this,” he said, setting Chelsea down, then walking out onto the deck.
“Hey, there,” he said quietly. “How are you doing? Any second thoughts?”
“None,” she admitted. “I think I’m a little shocked by that.”
He smiled. “And I think that just proves you made the right decision. Have you told anyone else yet?”
“Just Samantha.”
“And?”
“She agrees with you that I’m doing the right thing.”
“You do know it’s not about her approval or mine, though, right?”
“No, it’s about how it makes me feel, and I feel surprisingly good. Relieved, in fact. And excited. Maybe I needed this offer, maybe I needed the vindication that what happened was wrong, in order to move on.”
“That makes sense.”
“Are you in your workshop now?”
“No. I’m at Louise’s, spending time with the kids.”
“And your sister? Has she given you an earful about steering clear of me?”
“She’s tried,” he said. “I told her to butt out.”
“Maybe you should listen to her. I’m not exactly a great bet right now.”
“My decision, sweetheart. I’m not budging.” If the occasional second thoughts popped up, he’d just go right on tamping them down.
“I probably shouldn’t admit this, but I find that surprisingly reassuring.”
Wade chuckled. “Whoa! That may be the most encouraging thing I’ve ever heard you say. I think I’m getting a swelled head.”
Gabi chuckled, just as he’d intended.
“You probably shouldn’t let it go to your head,” she warned. “I seem to have a lot of very capricious mood swings. Who knows what tomorrow might bring?”
“I’ll take my chances. What’s on your agenda for the rest of the night? Are you going to call your father and break the news?”
“No, I thought I’d save that for morning. I’d like to get a good night’s sleep without his criticism echoing in my head.”
“Makes sense,” Wade said.
“What about you?”
“I’ll be here a little longer, then take off for home. I found this incredible piece of driftwood on the beach the other day. I want to figure out what’s inside it.”
“I assume you’re talking about the form it might take when you carve it, not that you expect to find treasure.”
“That is treasure,” he corrected. “If you were an artist, you’d understand.”
“I almost do,” she said, her tone turning thoughtful. “Way, way back I remember sitting on Grandmother’s porch with a set of paints she’d given me. I wonder if those paintings are still around here.” She laughed. “They were so awful.”
“You sure about that?” Wade asked. “How old were you?”
“Twelve, maybe thirteen, I think.”
“Maybe they were just the work of an untrained eye,” he suggested.
“And unskilled hands,” she countered. “I’m telling you, nothing I painted was recognizable. It was the most frustrating experience of my life.”
“So even then, you didn’t want to do something if it wasn’t perfect,” he said. “No allowances for trial and error?”
“Pretty much,” she agreed.
“Find the paintings,” he encouraged. “I want to see them.”
“No way. You’re a real artist. These were the childish works of a total amateur.”
“Every artist was an amateur the first time they drew something,” he said.
“I know what you’re trying to do,” she said accusingly. “But we’re not going to discover that I have some hidden talent as an artist, I can assure you of that.”
“Then let me ask you this,” he said. “How did you feel when you did those paintings?”
“Frustrated and annoyed,” she said without hesitation.
Wade laughed and gave up. So maybe she wasn’t going to discover that she could be another Grandma Moses. “I’d still like to see them.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t know you back then. It’ll give me a clue about what you were like.”
“You’d probably get more information from letting Cora Jane tell you stories about how I misbehaved.”
“Trust me, she’s already filled me in,” he admitted. “Just about the only thing your grandmother hasn’t done is show me a baby book with you lying there naked on a bearskin rug.”
“That picture doesn’t exist, thank God,” Gabi said. “But if
