I arched an eyebrow at the lady who’d called for me, wondering what her passions might be. “Yes, madam? How can I assist you?”
She delicately crossed her legs where she sat on the gold padded folding chair. “I was under the impression that today’s class was something… quite different, you see.”
Her makeup was expertly applied and her wine-red hair pulled back with a claw clip. It was impossible to tell her age, but it was of no consequence, so I nodded sympathetically. “Yes, there was a last-minute change because of a scheduling conflict. My uncle Gilbert has a different project planned for today, but it’s one I think you’ll still enjoy. He’s quite skilled.”
“Gilbert, you say? A strong name.” Her eyes tracked Uncle Gil across the room as he fussed with his tools. “Yes, I like that. It’s truly a shame that he couldn’t keep the original agenda.” She sighed deeply and brought her gaze back to mine, then offered me her hand. “Lenora C. Apworth, but you may call me Miss Lenny.”
Taking her hand, I clasped my other on top and gave her a tiny, formal bow to match her tone and was rewarded when her slight dismay turned to delight. “Liem Lott, at your service, Miss Lenny.” I squeezed her hands lightly before releasing them, and then she sighed once more.
“You would have been a lovely model, Professor Liem. But we can’t always get what we want, now, can we?”
I smiled at her warmly. “Maybe not, but it won’t stop us from trying, will it?”
She tittered and began fussing with the large pendant that hung low on her chest. “I suppose I’ll just have to campaign for a reschedule.”
“I have no doubt you’ll sway us all,” I assured her as Uncle Gil began his instructions from the front of the class.
“Listen up.” He cast his blue-eyed gaze around the room, his bald head gleaming under the lights as the dozen or so seniors scattered around the space gave him their full attention. “Someone will be in shortly with step-by-step instructions forthose of you who prefer to work alone. For those who don’t, I’m going to demonstrate and talk you through each step. If you have a question, raise a hand or holler. Now—” He picked up his square of sandpaper and held it in the air. “I’ve already cut the pieces for you, but they need to be sanded, so let’s get to it.”
Giving Miss Lenny one more smile, I wandered to an empty station and followed Uncle Gil’s instructions, keeping a keen gaze on those around me for anyone who might be too shy to ask for help.
Around the time everyone had finished their sanding, a familiar face entered the room, holding up a stack of Uncle Gil’s photocopied instructions with a blank expression.
“Ire!” I yelled, hopping up from my seat and ambling over to her.
She very nearly smirked as she greeted me with a simple “Liem” before plopping the warm stack of papers into my hands. Then, casting her gaze around the room, she gave an even tinier expression that might’ve counted as a smile to a few of the crafters. She reached into her back pocket, pulled her phone out, and took a photo of the class before turning on her heel and leaving without another word.
“Odd girl, that one,” Miss Lenny mused out loud. “But no one has taken better care of my babies.”
A couple of ladies near her voiced their agreement before they all turned their full attention back to their assignments.
Before I had time to really reminisce about my very memorable run-in back at New Year’s with the odd young girl in question—Ireland was her full name—a man near me huffed in dismay as he dropped his frame onto the table. I put aside those thoughts and handed out the printed instructions before going over to help him.
By the time everyone’s frames were constructed, the class looked quite pleased with their work. And to anyone who didn’tknow him, Uncle Gil probably seemed unaffected, but that wasn’t the case at all. His shoulders were back, his posture proud, and his eyes gleamed with satisfaction.
“Mr. Lott, could you grace us with your presence for a spell?” Miss Lenny called.
Over the forty-five-minute class, either by sheer magnetism or some quiet devilry, she’d gathered an entourage of men and women alike around her, all of whom turned to me with expectant eyes.
It nearly gave me pause, and I was not used to such a thing.
“How can I help?” I asked simply once I’d gotten close enough to ask without yelling.
She gestured to the frames spread out on their table. “These are lovely, but it did make us wonder… what will we fill them with?”
Cocking my head to the side, I hedged, “With whatever suits you. The natural color of the wood would be lovely with a number of subjects, though you could stain it as well.”
Humming to herself, she eyed my black jeans. “You’re an artist, are you not?”
“You’re an artist.”
Cool breath on my palm.
“Take care of these.”
The ghost of a kiss.
The mere memory of Cody’s words in my ears and his touch on my skin as he said them coated me in feeling.
