Read Online 92 Pacific Boulevard by Debbie Macomber - Free Book Online
Authors: Debbie Macomber
Tags: Fiction
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continue the conversation, Will charged ahead. “I wanted to know if it would be convenient for me to stop by later this evening.”
She hesitated again. “Is there a reason?’
The question put him slightly on edge; he’d expected a warmer welcome. He was disappointed that he needed an excuse, but then he’d already made more than one incorrect assumption with Shirley. “Yes, a very good reason,” he said. “I have a check for you. The wildflower panel sold this weekend.” The piece, a fabric collage, was a stunning work. Everyone who’d viewed it, including Will, had been enchanted.
Shirley squealed with delight. “It sold! It really sold?”
“Yes.” Will had never heard her sound so uninhibited. “And the woman who bought it is interested in a couple of your other pieces, too.”
“That’s wonderful!”
“I thought you’d be pleased,” he said. “I could drop off the check if you like.” He didn’t want her to think he was pressuring her.
“Ah…unfortunately I have plans this evening.”
“I could visit tomorrow if that would be more convenient.” He was trying not to come across as pushy; at the same time, he was curious to know what her plans might be.
“Well…” she said cautiously. “Maybe it would be best just to drop it in the mail.”
Will’s head was spinning. She didn’t want to see him, or not at her house, anyway. That was a disappointment. “I have a better idea. Why don’t you come to the gallery and pick it up?”
She leaped on the suggestion. “Sure…that would be great.”
“When would be a good time?” he asked, implying that he was busy, too, and they should schedule this meeting.
“I suppose I could make it into town later this afternoon,” she said.
They agreed on four-thirty and Will set the phone back in its cradle, smiling. He’d gone out of his way for her daughter’s boyfriend at Shirley’s request—or with her approval, at any rate. Shaw had talent, but talent was cheap. He was giving the teenager a leg up, and he wanted to make sure Shirley valued his effort and the fact that he’d called in a favor from a friend.
Now that their meeting was set, Will closed the gallery a half hour early, then took the time to comb his hair and change his shirt. Before returning to the main part of the gallery, he glanced at his reflection in the mirror.
Normally he would’ve been confident he looked good, but Shirley’s reluctance made him feel somewhat insecure—not a familiar sensation.
While he waited for Shirley, he checked his watch every couple of minutes. He exhaled a sigh of relief when he saw her park in front of the gallery. She climbed out and started toward the entrance, paused, then turned back to her vehicle.
Will wasn’t about to let her walk off. He hurried over to the front door and threw it open.
“Shirley,” he called. “Come in.”
She turned around. “The sign says the gallery’s closed.”
He laughed lightly. “It is for everyone but you.”
“Oh…”
He opened the door wider and gestured her inside.
“Do you have the check?” she asked the moment she crossed the threshold. Then, as if she understood how rude she’d been, she added, “I, uh, know how busy you are and I don’t want to detain you.”
“It’s in the office.” When she didn’t move, he repeated, “Come in.”
After a short pause, she came all the way into the gallery.
Will closed the door and walked toward his small office, with her following. He handed her a white envelope, which held her check. “You know, I never heard if you received the wine-and-cheese basket I left on your doorstep during the holidays.”
“Yes, I did…I apologize. I should’ve written a thank-you note.”
She did seem appropriately contrite. Will had paid a premium for that basket. This wasn’t some run-of-the-mill wine-and-cheese ensemble, either. Everything had been imported from France.
“No problem. I just wanted to be sure you got it,” he said
She hesitated again. “Is there a reason?’
The question put him slightly on edge; he’d expected a warmer welcome. He was disappointed that he needed an excuse, but then he’d already made more than one incorrect assumption with Shirley. “Yes, a very good reason,” he said. “I have a check for you. The wildflower panel sold this weekend.” The piece, a fabric collage, was a stunning work. Everyone who’d viewed it, including Will, had been enchanted.
Shirley squealed with delight. “It sold! It really sold?”
“Yes.” Will had never heard her sound so uninhibited. “And the woman who bought it is interested in a couple of your other pieces, too.”
“That’s wonderful!”
“I thought you’d be pleased,” he said. “I could drop off the check if you like.” He didn’t want her to think he was pressuring her.
“Ah…unfortunately I have plans this evening.”
“I could visit tomorrow if that would be more convenient.” He was trying not to come across as pushy; at the same time, he was curious to know what her plans might be.
“Well…” she said cautiously. “Maybe it would be best just to drop it in the mail.”
Will’s head was spinning. She didn’t want to see him, or not at her house, anyway. That was a disappointment. “I have a better idea. Why don’t you come to the gallery and pick it up?”
She leaped on the suggestion. “Sure…that would be great.”
“When would be a good time?” he asked, implying that he was busy, too, and they should schedule this meeting.
“I suppose I could make it into town later this afternoon,” she said.
They agreed on four-thirty and Will set the phone back in its cradle, smiling. He’d gone out of his way for her daughter’s boyfriend at Shirley’s request—or with her approval, at any rate. Shaw had talent, but talent was cheap. He was giving the teenager a leg up, and he wanted to make sure Shirley valued his effort and the fact that he’d called in a favor from a friend.
Now that their meeting was set, Will closed the gallery a half hour early, then took the time to comb his hair and change his shirt. Before returning to the main part of the gallery, he glanced at his reflection in the mirror.
Normally he would’ve been confident he looked good, but Shirley’s reluctance made him feel somewhat insecure—not a familiar sensation.
While he waited for Shirley, he checked his watch every couple of minutes. He exhaled a sigh of relief when he saw her park in front of the gallery. She climbed out and started toward the entrance, paused, then turned back to her vehicle.
Will wasn’t about to let her walk off. He hurried over to the front door and threw it open.
“Shirley,” he called. “Come in.”
She turned around. “The sign says the gallery’s closed.”
He laughed lightly. “It is for everyone but you.”
“Oh…”
He opened the door wider and gestured her inside.
“Do you have the check?” she asked the moment she crossed the threshold. Then, as if she understood how rude she’d been, she added, “I, uh, know how busy you are and I don’t want to detain you.”
“It’s in the office.” When she didn’t move, he repeated, “Come in.”
After a short pause, she came all the way into the gallery.
Will closed the door and walked toward his small office, with her following. He handed her a white envelope, which held her check. “You know, I never heard if you received the wine-and-cheese basket I left on your doorstep during the holidays.”
“Yes, I did…I apologize. I should’ve written a thank-you note.”
She did seem appropriately contrite. Will had paid a premium for that basket. This wasn’t some run-of-the-mill wine-and-cheese ensemble, either. Everything had been imported from France.
“No problem. I just wanted to be sure you got it,” he said
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