Page 68 of Lost Love on 6th Street

Her cheeks turn red. She pulls off her glasses and distracts herself polishing them with the front of her shirt. “Would have been better if I’d found the original photo of Diane. Could have used her recordings and everything.” She gestures with her glasses, across the room, then sticks them back on her nose. “There’s a Skip Baxter portrait over there that I took, though.”

“You took it?!”

“Oh, yeah, I tracked him down for the radio section. We didn’t have any new portraits of him on file. There are also a couple pictures of The Lone Star through the years that I worked on restoring.”

I shove my hands in my pockets. “I had no idea this is what you’ve been working on.”

“I thought it would be a big surprise once it all was finished. You know, I’d have this awesome exhibit and the museum would love me so much they’d want to keep me, and—” she stops short of finishing her sentence. “They’re not going to.”

The record scratches. “What?”

“Jolene told me today. They can’t afford to keep me on in the archive,” she says. “They love the display though, so that’s good.” Her smile is conciliatory at best.

No wonder she looked so dower when I first saw her. “Nor, I’m so sorry,” I say.

“It’s okay. I assumed by this point.”

But I know she hoped. With all her heart. I did too. A reason to stay would have made this all so much easier.

“What do you need to talk to me about?” Eleanor prods.

“Right, right, well . . . bad news, good news, I guess.” I ruffle my hand through my hair. “I have an apartment for you.”

Eleanor’s head whips toward me in shock. “What?”

“I found a lead on an apartment and, if you want it, it’s yours.”

Eleanor blinks her big amber eyes, the news still sinking in.

“It’s, um, a bit of a fixer upper from what I hear, but I got a deal because I know the guy who owns it.” A loose interpretation, but true enough. “And if you want it, it’s yours.”

She remains silent. I shove my hands in my pockets. I didn’t know what kind of reaction I expected, but after the month we’ve had, I thought there would be some semblance of excitement even if the fear is present.

“I probably should have asked you first if that’s what you wanted, but I know you’ve been busy with work and I . . .” For a tall guy, I feel so small right now.

Eleanor shakes off her silence with a flick of her head. “No, that was really nice of you, Luke.”

I can practically see the wall she’s just put up between us. “You’re not planning on staying, are you?”

Her lips twist to the side. “I was going to tell you tonight. I don’t know how I can without a job.”

“You can find a job.”

She shrugs. “Maybe.”

The defeat in her body is so unlike her. I am used to an Eleanor who pushes to the extreme, pounds the pavement until she gets what she wants. The one who follows dead end after dead end. “Nor . . .”

“Look, I really need to get back to work. Can we talk later?” she says.

“I’ve got a show tonight.”

Her head ticks with the memory, curl falling out of place onto her forehead. “Right, I forgot. Tomorrow then.” She forces a smile before turning on her heel and heading out of the exhibit.

I follow her, walking in exact step beside her. “Let me walk with you.”

“Luke, could we not do this here?” she asks.

It’s not fair to her, but I can’t just let this go until tomorrow. Hell, even until tonight. “You love it here.”

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