Maybe watercolors simply weren’t her medium, she thought. Or maybe she didn’t have an artistic bone in her body, not the way Wade so obviously did.
“But it could be fun to try again,” she whispered, considering it. She could take a class, maybe. Just for the sheer enjoyment of it. When was the last time she’d done that, spent time doing anything just because it appealed to her? She’d been too busy doing the things that she’d thought could help her get ahead.
“And look how that’s turned out,” she muttered, putting the paintings away. Maybe one day she’d show them to Wade. Maybe not.
Now she needed to deal with reality, make those dreaded calls.
Gently she returned Emily’s doll to her carriage, covered her with a blanket and gave her a little pat. “Maybe my little girl, if that’s what I have, will come back for you,” she whispered, envisioning it. The image left her with a smile on her face and a tug of longing in her heart.
* * *
Suddenly starving, or perhaps only delaying the inevitable, Gabi piled some of Grandmother’s freshly baked peanut butter cookies on a plate, poured herself a glass of milk and headed for the porch, cell phone tucked in her pocket.
Settled on the chaise longue, she ate one cookie, then another, sighing at each burst of flavor on her tongue. Just like looking at those paintings, peanut butter cookies reminded her of simpler times. Of course, so did chocolate chip cookies or oatmeal raisin. Hardly a day passed without Grandmother filling the big cookie jar on the kitchen counter with the cookies Gabi, Samantha, Emily and their friends loved. Cora Jane usually made dozens of each, taking the extras to the restaurant to be served with ice cream as one of the day’s dessert specials. They were also sold in individual bags to beachgoers looking for something sweet to take across the street after lunch.
After her third cookie, Gabi could no longer even pretend that she wasn’t trying to put off making those calls. She hit speed dial for her father’s personal line, not one bit surprised to hear an even gruffer note than usual in his tone when he picked up.
“It’s about time you got back to me,” he grumbled impatiently. “I went out on a limb for you, Gabriella, and how do you repay that? By ignoring my call. By not bothering to call Amanda Warren. What is going on with you? Are you determined to self-destruct?”
“Hold on, Dad,” she said, barely keeping a grip on her own patience. “While I appreciate what you tried to do, you need to keep in mind that I did not ask you to do it. You didn’t even consult me to see if I wanted to go back to work there.”
He fell silent, obviously considering what she’d said. “Are you telling me that I wasted my time?” he asked slowly. “Do you have no intention of going back?”
For just a moment, she thought he’d suffered a pang of regret, but that instant didn’t last.
“How is that going to make me look?” he asked next, resorting to a more familiar refrain.
“Of course, it’s all about you and your reputation,” she said, unable to keep a bitter note from her voice. “You made this magnanimous gesture, and I’m just supposed to fall in line to keep you from being embarrassed. Is that it?”
“I thought you wanted that job,” he protested. “You acted as if losing it was the end of the world. You sounded miserable. That’s why I took it upon myself to make that call.”
She tried to remember that he really had been trying to do a good thing. She softened her tone. “But you didn’t ask me, did you?” she said more gently. “I know you thought you were doing a great thing. And I do appreciate what you did. It meant a lot to me that you wanted to help, more than you can probably imagine.”
“But you’re not going back there,” he concluded, sounding resigned, if not especially happy.
“No, I’m not. They don’t want me back, Dad. Not really. Ron Carlyle was doing you a favor. Amanda will never really forgive me for having you go over her head. It would be an intolerable situation.”
After what seemed like an eternity, her father sighed. “I hadn’t looked at it that way. I just thought what they’d done was wrong and I wanted to fix it.”
“I know.”
“Have you told them yet?”
“No. I wanted to talk to you first. I owed you that.”
“Sweetheart, putting this little fiasco of mine aside, what will you do?”
“I have no idea. I’m still thinking that through.”
“I can put out some other feelers, if you want,” he offered.
“Thanks, Dad, but not just yet. I need to make sense of things. For so long I thought that job was exactly what I wanted, all I wanted.”
“And you’ve discovered it’s not?” he asked, sounding as stunned by that as she was.
“Maybe not,” she said. “I’m beginning to think what I really want is a life, a messy, complicated, jam-packed life.”
“And will that include your child?” he asked hesitantly. “I know you’ve been considering adoption.”
“And yet you didn’t weigh in on that?” she said, surprised that he’d known and kept silent.
“That’s a huge decision in anybody’s life, and one only you can make. After all, you’ll live with the consequences, either way.”
“But how do you feel about being a grandfather?” she dared to ask.
He chuckled. “You know, I’m not really sure. I made a lot of mistakes as a father. Maybe this could be a chance for me to get
