The Friendly Cottage Read online

  “Save me,” he said, slipping an arm around my waist.

  Olivia rolled her eyes. “I’ll just leave you two alone.”

  I watched her walk away, then turned to Brian. “Save you from what? The buffet table? I saw you attacking those shrimp puffs like you forgot to eat all week.”

  “They’re delicious,” he said, seeming wholly unrepentant. “I brought you some, too.”

  He held out a small plate. I looked at it and burst into laughter. He’d piled the plate high with the tasty little things. I picked one up, still wondering who that woman was he’d been talking to. “You’re incorrigible, Brian. Did you leave any shrimp puffs for the other guests?”

  He winked. “A few.”

  Just his wink sent butterflies flapping in my belly. I suddenly had the urge to tell him I wanted to date him. Or something in that direction at least. I mean, Olivia seemed to think there might be a chance. I opened my mouth—

  “Uh-oh. Here she comes again,” he whispered.

  “Huh?” I stuttered and turned my head to see that same woman, who’d been talking to Brian, stalking toward us. This time I recognized her, though. Chelsea Chambers. I groaned inwardly. Chelsea and I could not have been more different. I was petite, blue-eyed, and blonde. She was tall, with raven-colored hair and dark chocolate-brown eyes. The only thing we had in common was that we were both artists.

  Even our painting styles were different. I knew that because I’d taken an art class with her and while she had talent—lots of it—her paintings were mostly traditional seascapes whereas my paintings had fantasy and slightly surreal elements.

  I’d won first place in our art class competition, but Chelsea had a trust fund behind her so she’d kept painting and refining her talent. I, on the other hand, made a living selling dresses to women who had to have a light apple-green dress on demand or a hissy fit ensued.

  “So nice to see you, Megan.” She gave me a cool nod, then her lips formed a sultry smile as she turned to Brian. “Could I steal you away for a moment?”

  “Now isn’t a good time.” His arm slipped around my shoulders, causing those butterflies to explode in my belly. “Megan and I are in the middle of a conversation.”

  I had to tell him. I had to. . .

  “Not a problem. I’ll catch up to you later,” she smiled, then sashayed off.

  His arm slipped off my shoulders, making it obvious that gesture had just been for show. “I’m not sure if you turned her down on my account, but if there’s someone you want to talk with . . . feel free. I’ll be okay by myself.”

  Brian grinned down at me. “Nah, I’m your date tonight. Remember?”

  “Um, right.” My head swirled with confusion as Charlie strode toward me, and took hold of my hand.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I have to borrow you for a minute.” She pulled me away before I could protest and hurried me over to a wooden bookshelf filled with non-fiction titles. Her eyes danced as she dipped her head toward me. “Guess what?”

  “What?”

  “You know, of course, that I’m a library donor. Right?” she asked. When I nodded, she rushed on. “Well, I’d got wind of something huge but I didn’t have the green light to tell you until now. Do you remember when I told you there would be a big announcement tonight?”

  “Yes . . .”

  “Well, hold on to your paintbrush, girl. Tonight, they are going to announce a six-week art competition, with three judging events coordinated by the Chamber of Commerce and an upscale art gallery, and there’s a prize.”

  My heart pounded in my chest. “Prize?”

  “Yes.” Charlie grabbed my hands and held them. “I know how disappointed you were when you had to delay your travel plans due to your dental work. Well, guess what? The winner of the art competition will be contracted to paint for one year at the judge’s art gallery in Florence, Italy. You should enter!”

  My mouth dropped open. “Italy? How is that possible?”

  “The lady at the Chamber of Commerce was old friends with the woman who owned the art gallery in Florence. The woman always wanted to visit her friend in Blue Moon Bay, but she passed away recently and left the art gallery to her three sons. So the sons connected with the Chamber of Commerce, who coordinated with the library and then the competition was born. You would have to submit three paintings—new works, of course—over the next six weeks. The judges will give you instructions for each one. I’m telling you, Megan, you have to enter!”

  My heart threatened to explode from my chest. This was an incredible opportunity, but. . . I glanced around to make sure nobody could hear, and then I lowered my voice. “It sounds like the opportunity of a lifetime, but I haven’t had time to paint lately. I’m not sure my work would be good enough for a competition. If I take the Wexley contract to design their websites, then I’ll have no time at all to paint. And they were offering me good money. So, if I wanted to enter the contest, then I’d have to turn down the contract and keep working at the dress shop. It seems too financially risky.”

  “Yeah, you’re nervous and laying out the excuses. I get it.” Charlie gnawed at her bottom lip. “Trust me, it wasn’t easy agreeing to put myself out there on the big screen in front of the whole world. Nobody said going for your dream is easy. You have to seize this opportunity.”

  “I don’t know.” I needed the money and the connections that taking the Wexley contract would give me to get my fledgling website design business on solid ground. But the contract would mean no time to paint at all. So, it came down to the contract or the competition. I’d planned to go to Italy for a few weeks, but a whole year would be a huge commitment. Although the mere thought of a year working as an artist in Florence thrilled me. “I’m going to have to think about it, Charlie. I don’t know if I’m prepared to take a risk that big.”

  Charlie’s eyes held sympathy. “Think it over, okay? Don’t say no until you’ve really thought about what you’d be giving up. Don’t tell anyone I told you, or they’ll be kicking me to Italy.”

  “I won’t tell a soul.” I glanced over Charlie’s shoulder, my gaze zeroing in on Chelsea. She’d managed to snare Brian and they were deep in conversation. Great. “And I will think about it,” I said, heading toward Brian just as Chelsea wandered away from him.

  He stepped toward me. “What were you and Charlie talking about? That looked intense. Also, are you going to eat that?”

  “What?” I glanced down noticing the shrimp roll still in my hand. My stomach was in knots and the thought of eating made me sick. I handed the roll to him, then crumpled the small napkin in my hand and let out a long breath

  “Anything you want to talk about?” he asked.

  “No, but thanks.” I wanted to talk to him about the competition, but I’d promised Charlie I wouldn’t say anything. So I decided to change the subject. “Are you having fun?”

  “Yeah, I actually am, but it’s getting pretty warm in here. Do you want to take a walk out on the back deck?”

  Take a walk with Brian in the moonlight? That was a no-brainer.

  “I’d love to,” I said, my mind circling back to art competition. Italy. Painting for a living. Was that just a dream? Or could I really make it a reality? We ambled to a quiet corner on the deck and stood there, staring out at the ocean. The wind ran up off the water, bringing the scent of salt, fish, and wet sand. The moon shined down, fat and full, bathing everything in a silvery light. I tilted my head back, letting the breeze kiss my neck and shoulders.

  “It’s chilly. Here . . .” He took his jacket off and set it over my shoulders like a gentleman.

  “Wow. Your jacket and you didn’t ask me to reimburse you for anything. I’m on a roll,” I joked. The scent of his cologne rose from the jacket and I ducked my head to inhale that aroma.

  The waves were high and tumultuous, echoing my heart. I wanted to tell Brian about the competition. He didn’t know how much going to Italy meant to me, or about my promise to Aunt Bea. But I wanted to en
ter the contest. I trusted his opinion. But I’d promised Charlie to keep quiet until the announcement. Giving up the Wexley contract carried so much risk that I shrank away from the possibility like the waves receding from the shore.

  “Come inside, everyone!” Olivia’s voice echoed out across the back deck. “The director of the library, Mr. Stead, has an announcement to make by the tables set up in the lobby.”

  We went in and I gave Brian his jacket back. We stood side by side as Mr. Stead stepped behind a podium and beamed at all of the guests. He started off by talking about the library expansion and thanking all of the sponsors and donors. He waxed poetic about the spectacular view from the third floor, which I had yet to see. My gaze moved to the windows as he talked. The shapes of birds against the moon and above the waves were powerful and I wanted to paint that image, to capture it forever. That’s when I realized there was no choice. . .

  I needed to go to Italy. And to paint there for a year would be a dream come true.

  “Now here’s a special announcement.” Mr. Stead beamed and my shoulders tensed. “We are holding a competition here with our local artists called, The Best of Blue Moon Bay. An artist’s application must be turned in by the end of next week and approved by the judges. There will be three competition events in six weeks. Chosen contestants will bring us their best works for each assigned theme and . . .” He held up a hand in a very dramatic way. “This is a two-fold competition. We could not have created this library without the help of our local woodworkers, many of whom donated their time. We want to honor them as well, so the entered contest paintings will also be judged by the custom frames they come in!”

  My heart skipped a beat. Brian was an amazing woodworker. He’d built beautiful custom shelves with exquisite detailed carvings for the Inn at Blue Moon Bay. He could help me with this project—assuming the judges accepted my application. He and I could work together. With him by my side I suddenly felt confident about the chance that I could win that contest.

  “Now, for some more exciting news. I’d like to announce our first approved competitor, an esteemed local artist. She’s here tonight, so let’s give a round of applause to Chelsea Chambers.”

  My stomach flew to my throat. What in the . . .?

  Chelsea Chambers was in the competition? If my application got approved my biggest rival ever would be standing in the way of my dream? Clearly, the universe felt I had karmic debt. I should’ve just eaten my broccoli when I was a child. Blech. I tugged at Brian’s sleeve to see if he was having as much trouble believing this incredible news as I was having.

  But Brian’s gaze was fixed on Mr. Stead.

  “I’m equally pleased to announce that Chelsea Chambers has already teamed up with an incredible craftsman. I’d like to introduce you all to our talented local woodworker and owner of the Inn at Blue Moon Bay . . . Brian Watts!”

  My mouth sagged open. Then my body went numb as I watched Chelsea and Brian move to stand next to the podium together, waving and wearing smiles. Chelsea even took Brian’s hand in hers and held them up over their heads to show they were a team. Brian had teamed up with Chelsea? Why hadn’t he told me? That must have been what she had wanted to talk to him about privately. He’d probably been sworn to secrecy just like I had been.

  As Chelsea and Brian waved their clasped hands over their heads, it hit me. If I entered this contest then I would be directly competing against Brian. It was his dream to be recognized for his woodworking skills. I stared at his face until his gaze met mine, and my vision blurred. Either I would achieve my dream, or Brian would achieve his dream. Or maybe we would both lose.

  Now there was a possibility I didn’t even want to think about.

  Chapter Two

  The bell over the door of the dress shop where I worked, Dazzle, tinkled, interrupting my perusal of The Best of Blue Moon Bay contest application and my worries about entering. I pasted a smile on my face that turned genuine when I saw Janine Wilson, Olivia’s assistant for her event planning business, come in. Janine moved to Blue Moon Bay last fall. She was sweet, smart and upbeat. We had quickly bonded.

  “Hey, Janine. What brings you here?”

  “Hi!” She charged through the door, leaned over the counter that separated us, and stretched her arms around me. “Would you believe I need a dress?”

  “That I guessed.” I giggled, giving her a squeeze. I felt happy to see her and even happier to step out from behind the counter, leaving the application behind. It was making me nuts, and flattening my spirits, too. I was sure I’d figure out what to do. Everything always worked out sooner or later, after all. But I was glad for the distraction. “What’s the occasion?”

  Janine gazed around the shop. “It’s a semi-formal event, but it’s a semi-formal fundraising event for Olivia, if you know what I mean. I don’t have to tell you how particular she is, so . . .” She lifted both hands and then shrugged. “Any suggestions?”

  I eyed her slim figure and blond hair, tapped a nail against my teeth, and then nodded. “I think I have just the thing. Olivia’s Occasions is doing pretty well, huh?”

  She nodded. “Her business has really grown since she added Greta von Strand and the Blue Moon Bay Country Club to her résumé. It’s wonderful how successful it’s becoming.”

  “I totally agree.” I headed for a rack of dresses that had just come in earlier that morning, with Janine right behind me. “Olivia’s hard work’s really paying off but I think she might be working too hard lately.” I held out a dark blue dress made of the cutest fabric I’d ever seen. “What do you think about this one?”

  She took the dress, held it against her body then shook her head and passed it back. “It feels too serious. Maybe something a little more flirty?” She blinked her lashes in a flirty way and I laughed. “I can confirm that Olivia is working too hard. She canceled a date with Brody the other night and she said he seemed really bummed out. I’m hoping she’ll let me do an event on my own soon. That will free up some time for her and give me a chance to stretch my wings.”

  I paused, one hand on the rack. “I’m sure she will. I know she really wants to see you succeed, too.”

  “She keeps reassuring me of that. Being her assistant’s been a great opportunity for me, especially with a steady income. Olivia’s taught me so much.”

  I held up a lime-green dress with a flared skirt. “Speaking of successful, the library unveiling seemed like a big hit.”

  Janine took the dress and then made a face when she saw a little bow on one side of it. “Olivia practically went door-to-door spreading the word about the event to make sure there was a good turn out. The art contest is a big exposure event for Blue Moon Bay, too. Are you entering the competition?”

  I sorted through the dresses. “I don’t know. I want to, but I don’t know an expert woodworker to make the custom frames since Brian decided to work with Chelsea.” My stomach knotted just thinking about them working together. “Not that Brian had agreed to work with me or anything. He doesn’t owe me anything, either. I mean, she just asked him before I got the chance so that was fair game.”

  Oh, man. Was I making it that obvious I was bugged?

  Janine gave me a strange look, but didn’t comment on my rant. “If finding a woodworker to make your frames is all that’s stopping you then I might be able to help.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re a woodworker now?”

  “Not hardly,” she said, chuckling at my joke.

  I lifted up a rose-colored dress that featured a skirt that was made from a giant puff of tulle. The bodice had pink sequins, and it definitely looked flirty. “Yes?”

  Janine shook her head. “I need something in between the navy dress and that one.”

  I put the dress back and continued my search. “You were saying you might know someone who can make my frames if I decide to enter the contest?”

  “Yes, a friend of the guy I just started dating. Jackson is new to town, so he’s staying with Cody—the guy I’m s
eeing—until he buys a place. We’ve talked a bit, which is how I know he does woodworking. He mentioned his passion is restoring Victorian houses. Doesn’t that sound incredible? I can’t promise he’d be interested but it couldn’t hurt for me to ask.”

  “That would be great,” I said, hope flaring up inside of me. How coincidental was it that Janine happened to be dating a guy who happened to be rooming with a woodworker? That had to be a sign that I should enter the competition. Or, it could be a sign that I might be sleeping on a wood floor if I give up the contract with Wexley and then don’t win the year-long job in Italy. Signs could be so hard to read. “Can I let you know later if I decide to enter or not?”

  “Sure, just let me know.”

  I found a few dresses Janine didn’t immediately object to and we headed for the dressing rooms. I unlocked the first room and held out a dress as she passed me on her way in. “I actually don’t have much time to make a decision on the art competition. I have that big contract with the Wexley Corporation that I have to either sign or decline it today.”

  The door shut. “Oh. No pressure there, huh?”

  “Exactly.” I shifted the armload of dresses I held.

  “It sounds like a good opportunity for your web design business,” she said, her voice coming through the door. “You’ve been trying to get that off the ground since last fall, right?”

  “Yes, but painting has always been my true passion. This is the first real chance I’ve had to possibly turn that into a career. If I take the Wexley contract, there will be no time to paint quality work for the contest so I really have to think this through.”

  “Rejection,” she called out, and then laid the dress over the door.

  My heart pounded. For a second there I thought she was talking about if I entered the contest. Rejection. The big R. Nothing appealing about that prospect. I slid the next dress over the door to her. “The director of the library announced the first competitor, local artist Chelsea Chambers. I actually knew Chelsea from the art school I attended in San Francisco. She was super competitive with me. Going against her . . . well, let’s just say it doesn’t sound fun.”