Chapter Two

They spent their first week settling in, decorating and trying to make friends with the neighbors. The latter was a losing battle. The only conversation Amelia managed to have was with an old man who was staring at her legs the whole time and asked her whether she was married and if not, would she be interested in dinner?

‘Oh, um, no thank you,’ she said uncomfortably, wrapping her arms around her middle. Her smile was awkward and uncertain. ‘I’m not really…I mean, I’m not really looking to date. My kid comes first. I’m flattered, though, really, I am.’

She couldn’t get out of that situation fast enough.

She was sitting at the kitchen table, circling all job vacancies in the morning’s paper, when she made her decision. She put down her pen, running her fingers through her hair and heaving a sigh. She needed to see a familiar face right about now. Someone to ground her and guide her. She needed someone to actually help her with finding some kind of work, or else she wouldn’t even be able to feed her own daughter. She wasn’t having Jasmine suffer any more than she had already.

She was on the phone within a half hour, writing down the directions to Robin’s gallery in red biro on her hand.

‘Bring a couple paintings,’ Robin suggested. ‘It’ll show some initiative.’

Amelia rolled her eyes and hung up the phone, but once she’d sorted out a babysitter and started getting ready that weekend, she made sure to roll up a few paintings and put them in her handbag. If Robin thought it was a good idea, it probably was. He knew this industry. That was something she knew for certain.

She left Jasmine with a seventeen-year-old babysitter named Jennifer. She was a pretty young girl who got on with Jasmine and didn’t ask for much money. Plus, she’d been babysitting for two years and was at college studying American Literature. She was sweet. It was good enough for Amelia.

‘She should stay asleep,’ Amelia said as she prepared to leave. ‘If you need anything at all, give me a ring. Will you be okay?’

Jennifer gave her a confident smile. ‘Of course, Mrs Lagrand. Everything’s under control.’

Amelia gave her an uncertain smile back. ‘I’ll only be gone for a coupe of hours. You can watch TV, help yourself to anything in the kitchen, um…and that’s it, I think. I think that’s it. If Jazz wakes up, she likes warm milk and stories--she keeps her books under her bed. She probably won’t, though. I hope she won’t.’

‘It’s okay,’ Jennifer said. ‘I’ve got this. Don’t worry.’

Don’t and worry were two words Amelia’s brain struggled to put together, most of the time. Now, leaving her only child in the hands of a teenager was making her worry a lot more than she should. But she’d told the only seemingly nice neighbor--a mother of two herself--and Jennifer seemed trustworthy. The gallery was only a few blocks away. In walking distance.

Amelia had never felt more stressed in her life.

Still, she forced herself to smile and nod, forced herself to swallow her worries and leave the apartment. She was doing this for Jasmine. She had to find work somewhere, and if the only way to do that was through Robin, then so be it. It would be better for the two of them in the long room. It had to be.

 

~

 

There were a lot more people than Amelia had expected.

The gallery was small, and people seemed to ooze in and out like flies darting through windows on the hottest afternoons of summer. She felt her heart racing, her gut twisting into knots. How would she ever find Robin in these crowds? She hadn’t seen him for years, since they’d both been kids. It was unlikely that she’d find him among the crowds.

She forced herself to stay calm. It was just a crowd of people. People couldn’t do a single thing. Balling her hands into fists and digging her fingernails into her palms, Amelia took a deep breath and walked into the gallery.

It wasn’t as bad inside. The gallery’s interior was actually spacious, an open, airy room with gentle music playing from a record player somewhere. Everyone there was dressed to perfection, with beautiful, expensive dresses and suits and jewellery. If there was a woman, she was on the arm of a man; Amelia was the odd one out on that front. She swallowed, trying not to remember her mother’s words the last time they’d spoken. It’s really not good for Jasmine to grow up without a father, Amy. You’re twenty-two and haven’t dated since she was born. You need to get yourself out there, because trust me, the years go faster than you expect.

Amelia was never usually bothered by the fact that she had no partner. She had accepted it long ago, and no longer cared. She didn’t want a partner.

But looking at this crowd of people, all partnered up and beautiful, she felt something twisting within her. You shouldn’t be here, as you are now.

No. She had a right to be here. She’d been invited. She refused to feel inadequate because she didn’t have a boyfriend.

A waiter carrying a tray of champagne walked past, and Amelia, sensing an opportunity, darted out in front of him.

‘Excuse me,’ she said.

He’d managed to catch himself before he’d tipped everything over, but the way he looked at her told her that he was less than impressed.

‘Ma’am,’ he said coldly.

‘Do you know where Robin Muller is? I’m a friend of his, he invited me.’

The waiter looked even less impressed, which would have been funny if it wasn’t so damned intimidating. He nodded towards the corner of the room.

‘The one with the ridiculous bow-tie,’ he said. ‘Excuse me, miss.’

Rude b*****d, she thought. She turned and started walking in the direction at which the waiter had pointed.

At first, she couldn’t find anyone who looked remotely like Robin, and was beginning to think the waiter had just made it up so he could get away from her. Then, she noticed a man. Rather short, with floppy blond hair, dimples, and an absolutely disgusting, polka-dot bow tie. He was also wearing, bizarrely, what looked like round sunglasses. Indoors.

It had to be him.

He was standing beside another man, much taller than him, but Amelia couldn’t see this man’s face because of the way he was positioned.

Amelia approached them, smiling the whole time, and said, ‘Robin?’

Robin turned his head, but seemed to be looking behind her. She couldn’t see his eyes behind the glasses, but she was fairly sure he wasn’t actually looking at her.

‘Amelia? Is that you?’

‘Do I look so different?’ she asked, grinning. ‘You look the same. A bit thinner.’

He chuckled, but there was an awkward edge to it. ‘I wouldn’t know,’ he said.

She frowned. Then she realized.

Those weren’t sunglasses. He was blind.

‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry,’ she said at once. ‘I didn’t--I mean, I couldn’t have--’

‘It’s fine, don’t worry about it,’ he immediately interrupted. He was smiling, and to her surprise, reached for her. She hugged him, smiling to herself.

‘It’s good to see you,’ she said.

‘It’s good to hear you,’ he joked, laughing as he released her. ‘I’m glad you came. I didn’t think you would, you know, not this soon after moving in. But I’m glad.’

They stood there for a few moments, smiling at each other, or in Robin’s case, in her general direction. And then, as if just remembering that they weren’t alone, Robin gestured to the man beside him.

‘Amelia, this is Thomas Brady. Thomas, this is that girl I was talking about--the one I grew up with. Amelia Lagrand.’

Thomas looked at her, and Amelia looked at him.

He had to be at least six feet tall, with the most beautiful, intense blue eyes Amelia had ever seen. He had a strong jaw, a hawkish nose, and neat, rather curly dark hair. His lips were thin and currently drawn into a smile, which highlighted the hollows of his cheeks. He was dressed impeccably like most people in the room, with a suit and tie and polished shoes.

He was handsome, she realized. Handsome, and tall, and well-dressed.

She realized she was staring, and quickly smiled and offered him her hand to shake. His hand, when he clasped hers, was large and masculine, but not hard; he was clearly not a manual labourer with hands so clean.

‘It’s a pleasure to meet you,’ he said politely, giving her a charming smile that made her blush like a schoolgirl. He had a nice voice, a pleasing voice. Deep and rumbling, the sort of voice that would turn any girl’s head.

‘You too,’ she said, trying to tear her eyes away and finding that she couldn’t. He was so starey. Starey, not not in a way that made her uncomfortable.

He released her hand, leaning against the wall behind him.

‘I’m, uh, guessing you’re an artist,’ Amelia questioned.

He chuckled, and the sound sent pleasant shivers down her spine. ‘No, not me. I’m not too big on the, uh, the art thing. I’m mainly just here for him.’ He gestured towards Robin, who was too busy talking to a couple who had approached him to hear. ‘This isn’t really my scene. But it seems to be yours.’

His eyes flickered to her bag, which was open enough to reveal the paintings she had in there.

‘Oh,’ she said, feeling herself go even redder. She ducked her head, tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear. ‘Yeah, it’s more of a hobby than anything, but, um, I’ve just moved here so any kind of work is good enough for me, you know?’

‘Oh, where’d you move from?’ he asked.

Damn, that’s a complicated question.

‘Well I did live in Georgia as a kid,’ she said, ‘but I moved to Florida, then Michigan, then Vermont…a few other places. Recently moved from DC.’

‘You don’t stick around much, do you?’ he asked, grinning.

‘Not really,’ she admitted. There was a moment of silence, in which Thomas stopped one of the waiters to retrieve two glasses of champagne. She clutched hers with a shaky hand, and couldn’t stop glancing up at him. ‘What about you, then? Have you lived in Georgia your whole life?’

He shrugged. ‘I’ve been around,’ he said, taking a few sips from his glass. He reached up, loosened his tie a bit, smiled down at her. ‘I grew up in Virginia, but I’ve lived here for quite a while, I guess. Haven’t been around as much as you, though.’

She smiled back at him. ‘I’m making it a challenge to live in every state for a bit before I die.’

He laughed, and she felt a surge of pride. Amelia didn’t usually make people laugh. She wasn’t funny at all.

‘Well, you’ve already ticked off quite a few off of that list,’ he said, eyes twinkling.

‘Guess I have,’ she said, smiling up at him.

They spent the rest of the evening talking between themselves, so deep in conversation that neither of them appeared to notice when Robin was pulled away by several artists intent on getting his opinion on their work. They walked through the gallery, neither of them sparing a single glance for the artwork displayed on the walls. They spoke about everything and nothing, and Amelia found herself chatting away and laughing far more than she had done in a very long time. There was something about Thomas that made her feel open. He had one of those faces, the sort anyone would trust. He had eyes that unraveled people like yarn, and hands that comforted when placed on the small of her back, reassuring as he steered her out of the way of passers-by, all the while watching her talk as though he found every word fascinating.

It was weird. Amelia didn’t like talking to strangers usually. She always felt panic rising up in her like vomit, felt her hands getting clammy and her heart racing like runners. She could recall a particularity bad day a couple of years after Jasmine had been born, when she was put into a situation in which she had to explain why, exactly, someone so young had a child. She had panicked so much at the thought of facing all that judgement that she ran away. Actually ran, like a kindergartner caught stealing sweets from her mother’s special stash.

Since that day, she’d never liked speaking to people she didn’t know. She would always say too much, too soon, and she’d scare them off. Or she’d say something very personal and face a whole tidal wave of judgement and disapproval, with which she would be forced to deal all by herself.

And yet here she was. Standing in an art gallery, having been speaking to the same man for about two hours already. She wasn’t spilling her secrets or stumbling over her words, and he wasn’t frowning at her as though she’d confessed to murder. Their conversation was light and casual, and yet one of the most personal conversations she’d had in a long time. It was so easy. Amelia never found talking easy. She never found people easy. But Thomas was so easy to talk to, and so easy to listen to, and she realized that she was never going to run out of things to say to him.

They were in the middle of a deep conversation about politics when Robin finally caught up to them again, guided through the room by an elegant, middle-aged woman.

‘There you are!’ he exclaimed. ‘I was looking for you. I wanted to introduce you to a friend of mine. This is Melissa Roberts. Melissa, this is Amelia.’

Amelia’s eyes flickered to Melissa, who raised an eyebrow at her, staring in open curiosity.

‘How do you do,’ she said coolly, offering Amelia a hand. ‘I hear you’re an artist.’

‘I paint,’ Amelia said awkwardly.

‘Well then, you should show me a few of these paintings. Robin tells me you’ve brought some with you.’

Amelia glowered at Robin, but of course, Robin couldn’t see her. Trying to ignore how much Thomas was staring, she nodded, gesturing towards her bag.

‘Well, not here,’ Melissa said as if that were obvious. ‘Let’s go upstairs, shall we? You wouldn’t mind us using your balcony, would you, Robin, dear?’

‘Of course not,’ Robin replied, smiling warmly. ‘You know where it is.’

‘Indeed.’

Melissa let go of Robin and offered Amelia her arm instead.

Amelia frowned. On one hand, it sounded like Melissa was going to set her up with some kind of job, at the most. At the very least, she would be a connection.

But on the other hand, she’d really been enjoying the evening with Thomas. She didn’t really want to go with a random woman and talk about art. Ironic, she supposed, seeing as art was the reason she’d come here in the first place.

‘Well?’ Melissa prompted.

You can’t have a new start without a job, Amelia thought. You’re here for you and Jasmine, not to flirt with some strange man you’ve never met before.

Yes. Logical. She had to be logical.

She gave Thomas an apologetic smile. ‘Duty calls,’ she said.

He shrugged. ‘Don’t worry about it. I’m sure I’ll see you around.’

Amelia took Melissa’s arm.

They were already walking towards the stairs when she heard Thomas say, ‘Amelia?’

She turned her head, staring at him. He was standing with his hands in his trouser pockets, his face unreadable.

‘Take care of yourself,’ he said.

She frowned. It sounded like an odd thing to say. ‘I will.’

‘You can’t be too careful,’ he added. ‘Not around here.’

The words were strange and didn’t sit well with her. But by the time she managed to think up a single thing to say, Melissa was already tugging at her arm, half-pulling her away.