1022 Evergreen Place - Debbie Macomber [59]
“I wanted to tell you what a pleasure it was to meet you last week.”
“The pleasure was mine.” The expression was commonplace, but she meant it sincerely.
“I’m going to be in the Seattle area again soon.”
“That’s…wonderful.” She wished her voice wasn’t so breathless.
“It’s another show.”
“Of your work?”
“No, a friend of mine.”
Shirley waited for him to continue.
“I’m calling to ask if you’d be free to join me.”
“I would,” she said, regardless of the details.
“It’s on Sunday the twenty-seventh.”
“That’s perfect.” She bit her lip, embarrassed that she no longer seemed to know any other words.
“I can get a third invitation if you’d like to include Will.”
“No. No, that isn’t necessary.”
“You’re sure?” Larry asked.
“Oh, yes.”
“I arrive early Saturday and fly out Monday morning.”
“Would you like to come to Cedar Cove?” she asked, and immediately regretted it. She imagined how awkward it would be if they ran into Will Jefferson.
“Perhaps,” he said, “but I have commitments in Seattle on Saturday.”
Of course he would. Shirley felt gauche for having made the suggestion. Larry was an important artist, a celebrity, and he had better things to do than visit Cedar Cove.
“Would it be possible to see you on Sunday? Have dinner after the show?”
“No…I mean, yes, it would be possible.” Every time she opened her mouth she seemed to say something stupid. She had to wonder why Larry wanted to see her at all.
“Great.” He sounded pleased, which only added to Shirley’s delight.
“I’m so glad you called,” she said. “I didn’t expect to hear from you, and, well, I’m…more than a little flattered.” It was probably all wrong to tell him that, to be so effusive, but she didn’t care.
They talked for another five minutes while they made arrangements. He’d send a car for her and, if he could manage it, he’d come with the car, although at this point that looked doubtful. As he spoke, Shirley got a pen and pad from the kitchen junk drawer and wrote it all down, certain that if she didn’t she’d forget every word.
As soon as she was off the phone, Shirley rushed down the hallway to her daughter’s bedroom and threw open the door. Tanni lay on her bed, cell phone in hand, text messaging.
“You’ll never guess who that was!” Shirley cried.
Tanni looked up with a bored expression. “Hugh Jackman.”
“No, silly. Larry Knight.”
Tanni gaped at her. “The Larry Knight. The artist?” Shirley nodded.
“Did he say anything about Shaw?”
It hadn’t even occurred to Shirley to ask. “No, he didn’t,” she said, feeling a little guilty.
The hope that had flared in Tanni’s eyes was quickly extinguished.
“He asked me on a date,” Shirley told her.
“A date with you?”
Shirley knew it probably sounded as inconceivable to her daughter as it did to her that Larry Knight had asked her out.
“You’re going?”
Shirley nodded, trying not to act too happy when her daughter was so miserable over Shaw. Still, she couldn’t quite contain her joy as she hurried back to the kitchen.
She could hardly wait to tell Miranda about this.
Sixteen
Charlotte sat in her favorite chair, doing her favorite thing—knitting. Her fingers were as busy as her mind and although she’d knit this same sweater a number of times she kept making small mistakes that she had to rip out, kept needing to refer to the pattern. She’d been so distracted and forgetful. She blamed it on this stress caused by her husband’s son, David.
Ben had turned on the television and sat staring at it, apparently engrossed, although she doubted either of them was concentrating on the evening news.
“Ben,” Charlotte finally said.
He glanced away from the TV and looked at her. “Yes?”
“Let’s ask Olivia. She knows about the law in situations like this.” She didn’t elaborate; there was no need to. Ben knew very well that she was talking about David’s daughter, Noelle.
Ben’s mouth thinned. “Let me think about it.”
Charlotte had no intention of pressuring him. Ben loved his little