Read Online Sculpting Grace: A Light Romance Novel (Art of Grace Book 2) by Samantha Westlake - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Samantha Westlake
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failure to pay his bills.
A few hours later, a bit after four in the afternoon, I gave up and pushed the partially sorted stacks of paper aside. "I'll return to you later," I promised the stacks, not sure if I'd actually keep this guarantee. "But right now, I need a big, full glass of wine."
I headed out of the gallery and a few blocks over, to the building that housed, quite possibly, my favorite business establishment in the town of Davis. Vini Wine Bar was a modern cafe-like place, where custom dispensers would, at the push of a button, release a perfect serving of wine into a glass held beneath a spigot. The bar carried more than two dozen different varieties of wine, and they offered cards with little embedded microchips, so that I could walk in, grab an empty wine glass, and start choosing from the buffet line of different wines on display.
I'd just dispensed a glass and settled into a booth right in front of the bar's huge front window when I spotted Portia outside, climbing out of her car on the other side of the street. I waved to her, even though I wasn't sure if she could see me through the front window of Vini from outside.
As Portia crossed the street and headed over to Vini, I had to take a moment to push down the little spurt of jealousy that I always felt when I saw her. Not for the first time, I marveled at the fact that this elegant, composed, perfect seeming woman somehow managed to end up as my best friend.
Portia certainly attracted several stares, both from men and women, as she crossed the street and slipped into the wine bar! She stood just a hair under six feet, with long, glossy dark hair that cascaded down her back in a waterfall and sometimes forced me to pinch myself to make sure I wasn't the "before" model in a shampoo commercial. Her features were delicate and perfectly symmetrical, and she always dressed perfectly for her body type. She looked like the kind of model-beautiful woman who might run a Sotheby's auction, displaying incredibly rare Ming vases that would sell for millions of dollars. Standing next to her, I always felt like a frumpy, disorganized mess.
Yet despite our differences in appearance and elegance, the two of us had been best friends since elementary school. In high school, she'd been the dark-haired seductress who kept half a dozen boys charmed around her little finger, while I sputtered through a couple of awkward high school boyfriends. Perhaps in another life, I would have become Portia's preferred target of ridicule. The two of us were so different, after all; by our senior year, Portia looked like she'd just stepped off of the model's catwalk, while I appeared more like I ought to be dressed in black and operating the spotlights from the shadows.
But instead of teasing and attacking me, Portia had decided that I needed a good best friend, someone to help me avoid the worst of the potholes on my road through Life. She took on this mantle for herself, always doing her best to steer me clear of the next upcoming disaster. It worked out well for both of us, I was pretty sure - I got level-headed and smart advice, while Portia got to vicariously live out some of her crazy ideas by watching my trainwreck of a life careen along, always on the verge of tumbling off the rails.
Now, she spotted me right away when she walked into Vini, and let out a huffing sigh as she dropped her Prada bag carelessly onto the table beside my glass of wine. "Oh man, I've definitely earned a glass or two of wine for myself," she announced, peeling off a well-fitted dress jacket to reveal perfectly toned bare shoulders that probably made at least one man in the bar accidentally take a bite out of his wineglass.
"Rough day? They figure out that it was your ass getting copied on the photocopier?" I asked, grinning up at her.
She shook her head, her long hair moving in billowing waves from the motion. "Thankfully, my anonymity remains intact - but it's still been a long day of clients
A few hours later, a bit after four in the afternoon, I gave up and pushed the partially sorted stacks of paper aside. "I'll return to you later," I promised the stacks, not sure if I'd actually keep this guarantee. "But right now, I need a big, full glass of wine."
I headed out of the gallery and a few blocks over, to the building that housed, quite possibly, my favorite business establishment in the town of Davis. Vini Wine Bar was a modern cafe-like place, where custom dispensers would, at the push of a button, release a perfect serving of wine into a glass held beneath a spigot. The bar carried more than two dozen different varieties of wine, and they offered cards with little embedded microchips, so that I could walk in, grab an empty wine glass, and start choosing from the buffet line of different wines on display.
I'd just dispensed a glass and settled into a booth right in front of the bar's huge front window when I spotted Portia outside, climbing out of her car on the other side of the street. I waved to her, even though I wasn't sure if she could see me through the front window of Vini from outside.
As Portia crossed the street and headed over to Vini, I had to take a moment to push down the little spurt of jealousy that I always felt when I saw her. Not for the first time, I marveled at the fact that this elegant, composed, perfect seeming woman somehow managed to end up as my best friend.
Portia certainly attracted several stares, both from men and women, as she crossed the street and slipped into the wine bar! She stood just a hair under six feet, with long, glossy dark hair that cascaded down her back in a waterfall and sometimes forced me to pinch myself to make sure I wasn't the "before" model in a shampoo commercial. Her features were delicate and perfectly symmetrical, and she always dressed perfectly for her body type. She looked like the kind of model-beautiful woman who might run a Sotheby's auction, displaying incredibly rare Ming vases that would sell for millions of dollars. Standing next to her, I always felt like a frumpy, disorganized mess.
Yet despite our differences in appearance and elegance, the two of us had been best friends since elementary school. In high school, she'd been the dark-haired seductress who kept half a dozen boys charmed around her little finger, while I sputtered through a couple of awkward high school boyfriends. Perhaps in another life, I would have become Portia's preferred target of ridicule. The two of us were so different, after all; by our senior year, Portia looked like she'd just stepped off of the model's catwalk, while I appeared more like I ought to be dressed in black and operating the spotlights from the shadows.
But instead of teasing and attacking me, Portia had decided that I needed a good best friend, someone to help me avoid the worst of the potholes on my road through Life. She took on this mantle for herself, always doing her best to steer me clear of the next upcoming disaster. It worked out well for both of us, I was pretty sure - I got level-headed and smart advice, while Portia got to vicariously live out some of her crazy ideas by watching my trainwreck of a life careen along, always on the verge of tumbling off the rails.
Now, she spotted me right away when she walked into Vini, and let out a huffing sigh as she dropped her Prada bag carelessly onto the table beside my glass of wine. "Oh man, I've definitely earned a glass or two of wine for myself," she announced, peeling off a well-fitted dress jacket to reveal perfectly toned bare shoulders that probably made at least one man in the bar accidentally take a bite out of his wineglass.
"Rough day? They figure out that it was your ass getting copied on the photocopier?" I asked, grinning up at her.
She shook her head, her long hair moving in billowing waves from the motion. "Thankfully, my anonymity remains intact - but it's still been a long day of clients
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