He frowned at her description. “You think Sally’s an artist, right? You don’t dismiss her work that way.”
“Sally is an artist. Gabi’s dabbling. And that is not meant as an insult. I think she’s all but admitted that herself.”
Even though Wade didn’t much like his sister’s tone, he couldn’t really argue. For one thing, he hadn’t seen a single finished wind chime. For another, Gabi’s level of enthusiasm had waned as her days in the studio had passed without something to show for them.
And yet he believed that her love for the wind chimes, for Sand Castle Bay, for Cora Jane—maybe even for him—would all ultimately play a part in her finding happiness right here. He just needed to figure out how.
He stood. “I’m heading home,” he announced.
“Before dinner?” Louise asked, startled.
“I’m working on a project,” he said. “I need to get back to it.”
“You’re not mad at me for speaking my mind, are you?”
“No. I wouldn’t have come to you if all I’d wanted was a sympathetic ear,” he said with a grin. “For that I’d have called Zack and we’d have gone out for a beer. From you I know I’ll get the unvarnished truth, at least as you see it.”
Louise frowned. “Thanks, I think.”
“It actually was a compliment,” he said, dropping a kiss on her cheek. “Tell the kids I’m sorry I missed them. I forgot about the swimming lessons today. I’ll see ’em soon.”
He was on his way home when he was struck by an idea. He made a quick turn and headed into the countryside instead, winding up at Sally’s. Since the lights were on in the studio, but not in the house, he wandered out and knocked on the door.
“Come on in,” she called out.
He shook his head at her lack of safety precautions. “Shouldn’t you know who’s at the door before you invite them in?” he asked.
“Saw your car,” she said succinctly, all her attention directed at the piece of glass in front of her. “Have a seat. Give me a couple of minutes and I’ll give you my full attention.”
Rather than sitting, he moved closer to peek over her shoulder. She was working on the centerpiece of a wind chime, using bits of glass that would eventually be fused under high heat to create a colorful sailboat design. He recognized how delicate the process could be, so backed away and wandered around, looking at some of her completed work. He recognized her talent, both in design and in execution. He couldn’t help wondering if anything Gabi had done had come close.
“There!” she finally said, a note of triumph and satisfaction in her voice. “Now, tell me what brings you by for the second time in the past couple of days. Is this visit about Gabi, too?”
“As a matter of fact, it is. I was wondering how the whole wind-chime thing is working out for her.”
Sally regarded him with amusement. “Isn’t that a question you should be asking her?”
“Oh, I definitely want her perspective, but you’re the expert. I need your take before I go to her with an idea I’ve been toying around with since she came to town.”
“Explain,” Sally commanded.
“Well, if she’s showing great potential and this is her future, then my idea isn’t worth mentioning. I certainly don’t want her to feel that I have no faith in her, if working with glass is her destiny or something.”
Sally gave him a sharp look. “This is between us, right? You are never, not in a million years, going to repeat what I say to her?”
“Of course not.”
She continued to look doubtful. “Because I like her, and I would never, ever want to hurt her feelings.”
“Understood,” he said, already beginning to get the picture.
“She doesn’t have a lick of artistic talent,” Sally said candidly. “Her ideas are spot on. In fact, she’s had a couple of designs I wouldn’t mind trying myself, but the execution?” She shook her head. “The pieces just aren’t coming together.”
“Couldn’t that come with practice? She is just a beginner, after all.”
“We were all beginners once,” Sally agreed. “I remember that stage. Trust me, Gabi’s at the stage before that, whatever that is. Don’t get me wrong. She’s made a few improvements. She tries so hard and gets so frustrated that I feel bad for her, but truthfully, I just don’t see this happening.”
Wade appreciated the candor. “So, should I encourage her, discourage her, offer an alternative?”
“If you have an alternative, I’d definitely toss it out there. I think she knows where this is going.”
Wade nodded. “Mind if I try the idea out on you first? You might want to be involved.”
It was evident he’d piqued her curiosity. “Tell me,” she said eagerly.
“Actually, I’ve been thinking about something like this for a while. We—that is, the local artists—all have one or two favorite shops that sell our pieces, right? And we may go to a few shows during the season.”
“Sure.”
“What if we did something together, something bigger? What if we formed an art consortium of some kind with a gallery, but more important, some individual workshop spaces, so it could be a destination for tourists? They have these kinds of things in other cities, like the Torpedo Factory outside of Washington. I think there’s something similar in Miami, as well. Lots of other places with a big artists’ colony have them, too, I think.”
Sally’s eyes lit up. “I like it. I’ve been wanting to turn this space into a guesthouse. If I had a studio someplace like that, I could do it. But how does Gabi fit in?”
“She clearly has the right sensibility for what we do, even if she can’t create wind chimes or whatever. And she has the sort of public relations experience that could put this place on the map. It could be a win-win for us and for her.” He regarded Sally hopefully. “What do you think? Be honest. I don’t want to even start down this road with her if the idea’s
