Joan had a hopeful, pleasant sort of face. Now that they faced each other, Layla realized Joan was quite a bit older by the lines around her eyes and mouth. She wore her graying brown hair straight and it brushed her shoulders in a low-maintenance cut.
“No, thank you.” She really should leave. It would be embarrassing if Brant came home. “I can’t stay long. There’s the shop, and—”
“Copper Creek Home, right? I haven’t been there yet, though I’d like to take Mom some weekend. Brant says it’s worth the half-hour drive.”
“That’s nice of you to say. I’d love for you to visit.” The enamel bird pin on Joan's sweater caught Layla’s eye.
“Like it? It came from an art gallery downtown,” Joan said, fingering the piece. Joan was quick to smile too. It was a sincere smile, one that reached her eyes.
“It’s beautiful.”
“A Christmas present from Brant last year. He knew the artist, who gave him a deal, he said. Leave it to Brant to find the perfect gift. I have a thing for birds.”
“Very thoughtful.” He was generous. She’d give him that.
Layla looked around the room. It was a small space, made more claustrophobic by the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on one wall and Joan’s oversized desk. She was pleasantly surprised by his choice of furnishings. A little arts and craftsy with a Bohemian textile vibe in the upholstered armchair and the rug covering the hardwood floor. The Birch Morning candle Brant bought on his first visit to her shop sat on Joan’s desk. The window behind her faced the street and let in an ample amount of light.
Joan rested her elbows on the desk. “So, Brant tells me you two had a great time at the Holly Days dinner?”
She stiffened. The directness of Joan’s question surprised her. If Joan knew the details of their night but chose to ask anyway, she might be fishing for information. But if Brant truly hadn’t filled her in on what went down, they weren’t as close as Layla thought.
“We did.” Layla made a face. It wasn’t a lie. Their time togetherbeforehis conversation with Sean had been perfect.
Joan rested her elbows on the desk, waiting for more. The way Joan studied her pretty much confirmed Brant talked to her about that night. Joan didn’t believe her.
“Well, I’m happy to hear it,” she said. “Brant’s a great guy. A bigger heart you won’t find anywhere.”
Layla looked past Joan toward the window. Any minute Brant could come home. She needed to leave.
“I agree.”
Joan’s expression changed to a serious one. “You know, I’ve worked for him for three years and I’ve never heard him talk someone up as much as he has you.”
Joan seemed like a nice person. Maybe she was one of those agreeable types who said what she thought you wanted to hear. But Layla didn’t want to talk about Brant. Especially himandher as if they were a couple. One more thing was on her mind before she’d excuse herself. Layla dug the Kringle Market Crawl postcard out of her pocket.
“Customers keep bringing these into the store. They’ve mentioned something about getting credit if they visit my shop. When I called the chamber of commerce, they said my shop name was included, but I never called them. I thought since your company name was on it you might know something.”
Joan looked puzzled. “Brant said to include Copper Creek Home in the promo when I coordinated with the chamber. I assumed he had your permission or I wouldn’t have spoken on your behalf.”
She stared at the postcard. So, chalk up another nice gesture on his part. There was no denying it boosted business. If she had more of a head for business, she might separate her personal life from her professional one a little easier. Then she could overlook he was an insincere schmoozer for a second since he brought so much name recognition to Copper Creek Home. But her shop and her little design business were too closely linked withher. Layla Dean and Copper Creek Home were one and the same.
“I appreciate it. I do. But it’s not in my promo budget, so I don’t like feeling obligated,” she said finally.
Joan nodded and took the card. “Noted. I’ll remember if he brings it up again.”
There won’t be a next time.
A black truck drove past the house. Her heart leaped into her throat until she remembered Brant’s truck was gray, not black.
Joan noticed Layla looking past her toward the window. She smiled at her reassuringly. “Brant’s helping a friend set up a light display at the moment. He’s not going to be here anytime soon.”
“I wasn’t—”
“—trying to avoid him?” Joan nodded and paused to consider something. “Listen, I don’t know the nuances of what happened that night, but Brant wanted to be there with you. No one else.” She folded her hands together on the desk. Her wedding ring was visible for the first time.
“He made a mistake asking me. I heard him say it.”
Joan bobbed her head again thoughtfully. “That’s true. He meant to text me. It wouldn’t have been the first time I’ve gone with him to an event. He knows I like those kinds of things, and Lon, my dear hubs, bless him, hates wearing a tie and socializing.”
