AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Whenever Lisa and I prepped for a night on the town (her: two hours primping; me: sniff shirt, add eyeliner), she often pointed out my idea of 'effortless' needed more effort.
I loved dressing in glitz and glamour for museum galas, dates and special occasions, but spent my life restoring and often painstakingly preserving art. Lisa forgot that when I got home, I didn't want to sit in front of a mirror, pick up a brush and paint over my flaws for a trip to a hot dance floor where I'd sweat my drugstore makeup off ten minutes later. Nothing made me happier than unwinding on the couch with Samson and Igor. Beer, bra, and salty snacks optional.
Which was why, according to her, I might find love by the time I turned forty.
Might.
“Don’t you need to be up early tomorrow?” I countered.
She waved me off. “Too excited.”
I leaned back in my chair, separating waves in my now-unbraided hair. “Hate to break it to you, but the only clothes I’m changing into are pjs, Lisa, and I may not even expend that energy. Story’s dry, anyway: we hung out, didn’t click, parted ways. So—”
She anticipated my grumblings and cut me off with a lifted finger. “One drink. I just want to hang like we used to. One last night of dreaming before everything changes.”
And everything would change.
Lisa was talented, smart, and tireless. Tomorrow afternoon, she was going to nail her interview. Next week, she and Wyatt would be touring apartments in East Rutherford, New Jersey. I felt a pang of jealousy but a deeper heartache knowing my best friend was about to leave.
Their departure into a much-deserved bigger and brighter future would leave me, the bags-under-her-eyes art restoration grad student who couldn’t secure a conservator apprenticeship to save her life, with nothing to focus on but work. For now, I promoted museum content and worked on restorations at the Wadsworth, my specialty being oil paintings on hand-stretched canvas. Ritual Conduit aside, I enjoyed the peace of the work. Paint and a playlist made for fine coworkers.
Of course, once word reached Maggie I might not even have those.
“I could use a drink,” I relented, pushing away from the table. “But only one, and we find a quiet corner. And I go as I am.”
“Yes, yes, and you change your shirt before I barf.” Lisa looped her arm in mine. “So what was the problem? Dude seemed nice.”
I shrugged. Keith was a nice guy. Throw a leather jacket on him and he’d still only be a nice guy. He lacked that charisma, that swarthy charm, those vibrant, amber gold eyes of a man like Caelan Harlowe. Not that I looked or dressed like a perfect ten, either. Sweatpants and sloppy buns never went out of style in the privacy of your own home. A blend of Mediterranean and German ancestry, I had dark hair, dark eyes, a fair to middling complexion and a larger nose than I'd prefer. It also didn’t help my love life that, since Gram had passed, I’d fallen into a reclusive routine of work-home-work with the intention of selling the house as soon as I landed that apprenticeship.
“Look, Lisa, Keith was fine, but that doesn’t change the fact I found him boring.”
“Big whoop. Your idea of exciting is a trip to Target.”
“We didn’t vibe.”
“No?” A devilish grin spread across her face. She waved the sheriff’s number in front of my nose. “Care to explain this?”
I snatched it. “A sheriff wanted to know if I'd seen Stephen Vilkas; told me to call—”
“You don't have to lie. It's okay to like boring.”
The front door creaked. A breeze tickled the narrow gap between my ankle socks and leggings.
“Lisa?” I began, scanning the floor for a crooked shadow.
“What?”
Panic edged into my voice. “Door's open.”
She pushed it closed. “So?”
“Where's Igor?”
“Creeping on Samson?”
I shook my head. “He's eating. She was watching you from the stairs when you said goodnight to Wyatt.” Tossing the sheriff’s card on the hall table, I ran to confirm what I already knew.
No Igor.
