“Mr. Medici. He asked for you.” She sipped coffee from her paper cup and placed it down by the office phone.
I furrowed my brow. “What? Why?”
“I don’t know.” She lifted her shoulders.
“Did he look mad?” I adjusted my purse strap and placed a hand on the corner of her desk, eyeing her cute floral dress.
Stella squinted with a speculative gleam in her eye. “No, but is there something going on between you two?”
“No, no, no.” I shook my head. “I don’t know him. Why do you ask?”
She gave me a side-long glance. “Well, he seemed ... nervous. I don’t know how to describe it, but he walked in and out of the store a couple of times, and when he finally stopped to talk to me, he asked if you were working today. When I told him you were coming back later, he seemed relieved, I think.”
Whatever. Perhaps he wanted me to pay for his dry cleaning. But that shirt had been unsalvageable. Maybe he wanted me to buy him a new shirt—that didn’t sound right either. If he could spend three grand on a painting, he could afford to replace a shirt.
“Well ...” I stopped talking because I had no answer and backed away. “I’ll be finishing up my painting. Just ring if you need anything.”
She twisted her rolling chair to face me. “Sure. That’s what I did the last time and you told me to take care of it.”
A mistake that got me into a mess.
Sarcasm must be the reason Stella had lasted longer than the others. I stopped halfway to the back room and cringed.
“Sorry. I won’t do that again.”
Stella continued, “Do you want me to get anything for you during my lunch? I’m going to get a chicken salad and a strawberry smoothie.”
I opened the door and looked over my shoulder. “Sure. I’ll have the same. Thanks.”
After I set my purse on the desk, I tapped play on my earbuds and set up my painting area in front of the huge canvas named Mr. Medici’s Shirt. A laugh burst out of my mouth at the memory of my creation on his white, crisp, expensive shirt.
This time I let my paintbrush do the work. No more hands for a while. I thought about Tyler as I added white over the red and green I had smeared on yesterday.
The paint blended on the canvas, creating new colors and shades. Oils had been the right choice since they didn’t dry overnight. I had no plan for this masterpiece, but it might turn out to be something Abby could sell.
Perhaps I should consider the nanny position. I could be a nanny for two weeks and paint at the same time. At least I’d be making money.
I grabbed my cell from my back pocket of my jeans and punched the numbers before I could change my mind. A woman with a sweet voice answered the phone—Mona.
After Mona and I set up the date and time of the interview, I got back to painting. When Stella came back from her lunch break, she brought a salad and a smoothie for me as I’d asked. I took a few bites and got back to working on my piece. An hour later, Stella beeped me.
“Yes,” I sang, trying to sound polite since the last time I’d nearly bitten her head off.
Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Can you come out? Mr. Medici is here.”
I nearly choked on my smoothie. My heart leaped out of my chest and crashed back in. “What did you say?”
“Mr. Medici. You know, the man you painted on.”
I’d thought I heard someone clear their throat in the background.
“Okay. Tell him I’ll be right out.”
Taking a peek in the restroom mirror, I ran my fingers through my hair, straightened my pink sweater, and dusted off my black jeans.
Presentable enough. I walked out.
Mr. Medici stood by the paintings and focused on the one called Wailua Falls, a mountain waterfall with a rainbow glittering in the spray.
As a ray of sun highlighted him through the window, he looked like a glorious angel without wings. A perfect portrait. I wished I had my camera to capture the moment.
I cleared my throat. “Mr. Medici. We meet again.”
We meet again? How lame is that?
I extended my hand. “It’s nice to meet you—I mean to see you ... again. How can I do you? I mean ...” I cringed and dropped my hand before he could touch me. Let’s try this again. “How can I help you?”
Stella snickered quietly, and I almost told her to walk away. I seemed to lose my tongue and my brain around him.
Leonardo’s lips perked, like he was holding in a laugh. He scrubbed the back of his neck and said, “I bought a painting from Abby Fuller yesterday over the phone. I’m supposed to pick it up tomorrow, but I thought I’d stop by and get it now. Is it ready?”
It took a second to process his words as I admired those beautiful brown eyes with thick, long eyelashes, perfect nose, and manly yet pretty lips.
“Yes, it’s ready.” I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t want him to think I was incompetent. “Stella and I will help you.” I rushed over, tugged Stella out of her chair, and whispered sharply, “Do you know which one?”
Abby told me Leonardo had bought one near the front door, but there were three.
Mr. Medici narrowed his eyes at us. A smart man like him could see through my awkwardness and realize I didn’t know what I was doing. When I caught him looking our way, he glanced to the small sculptures on the shelf by the front window.
Stella murmured, “Abby places purchased art in the back and wraps it up, but she wasn’t here yesterday. Did she say anything to you?”
“No, because she’s planning to work tomorrow. Mr. Medici came a day early. Call her.”
“Okay. I’ll go do that and you keep him company.”
I swallowed nervously. “Okay.” I turned to Leonardo. “Stella is going to get it for you. She’ll be right back.”
“Perfect. It’s the painting of the ocean and palm trees, and there’s a couple in the background,” he said loud enough for Stella to hear.
I assumed Abby had gotten confused, and the painting was in the back room and not in the front. We had to communicate better.
He called to let me know he wanted to purchase one that was hanging near the front door.
Was and not currently. Abby liked to shift her paintings around, putting the newer ones in front the way retail stores redressed the dummies in the windows with the newest merchandise. Sometimes she grouped them according to the size of the canvas, color theme, or the artist.
“Would you like to sit down?” I waved to the white leather sofa like a game show hostess.
“No, thank you. I’m good.” He focused back to the clay figurines.
I wasn’t sure if he was genuinely interested in the sculptures or if he was trying to avoid small talk. He seemed a bit nervous, unlike the first time I’d met him. But the longer the silence remained, the more anxious I became.
“Would you like something to drink?” I asked, inching toward him.
Leonardo eyed the table with small water bottles, coffeemaker, and boxes of Hawaiian tea.
“No, thank you,” he said, and strolled away to a display with several small figurines about a foot tall. “Is that for sale?” He pointed to a half-naked, cute figure holding a bow and arrow.
“Yes. It’s Cupid.”
“I assumed so.” He chuckled lightly and looked at me from the corner of his eyes.