Page 66 of The Beach Shack Summer
She moved closer, her hand brushing Tyler’s arm as she tilted the bowl. “The glaze has mica in it. Very rare. Very special.”
“Uh-huh,” Tyler said, focused on the bowl like it might explode.
“I was thinking we could shoot at my home studio. I’ve set up a whole area with perfect natural light.” She touched his arm again. “Very private. No distractions.”
Stella, who’d been folding napkins at the counter, watched the performance with growing fascination. Patricia had now touched Tyler’s arm three times in two minutes.
“I brought lavender lemon cookies too!” Patricia produced a tin. “Made them this morning. Your favorite, right?”
“I don’t really eat cookies?—“
“Of course you do! I remember from the arts council meeting.” She opened the tin, releasing a cloud of expensive vanilla. “I made extra. For everyone.”
“Tyler’s more of a burrito guy,” Joey said helpfully.
Patricia’s smile tightened slightly. “Well, more for the rest of us then!” She turned back to Tyler. “So about tomorrow morning...”
“Tomorrow’s pretty busy?—“
“Tuesday then. Or Wednesday. Or Thursday.” She laughed, the sound like wind chimes in a hurricane. “I’m very flexible.”
“I’ll check my schedule,” Tyler said, the same thing he’d been saying for weeks.
“Perfect! I’ll text you. And call. Just to confirm.” She began repacking her pottery with the efficiency of someone who’d done this routine before. “Oh, and Tyler? I’m teaching a couples pottery class next month. Very sensual. All about connection through clay.”
Tyler knocked over a stack of cups.
“I’ll just... let myself out,” Patricia said, clearly pleased with the reaction. “Enjoy the cookies!”
She swept out, leaving behind the scent of ceramics and designer perfume.
Bernie waited until the door closed completely before letting out a low whistle. “Six months of this,” he said to no one in particular.
Stella abandoned her napkins and drifted over to Bernie’s table. “Six months?”
“Started when Tyler shot her spring collection. ‘Just a few photos,’ she said.” Bernie shook his head. “That was twenty photo sessions ago.”
“Twenty?”
“I’ve been counting. We all have.” He gesturedvaguely at the empty Shack. “She went from monthly visits to weekly to... well, you’ve seen.”
Stella glanced at Tyler, who was now staring at the cookie tin like it might contain explosives. “And he doesn’t...?”
“Not a clue.” Bernie sipped his coffee. “Thinks she really needs that many photos. ‘Very dedicated to her craft,’ he says.”
“But she just invited him to couples pottery!”
“Last week it was partner yoga. Week before that, tandem paddleboarding.” Bernie grinned. “Your dad’s always been like this. Completely oblivious.”
“How does he not see it?”
“Walsh family trait, maybe. Your grandma Margo finds it hilarious. We’ve got a betting pool on when he’ll figure it out.”
“A betting pool?”
“I’ve got twenty on ‘never.’ Realistic expectations.”
Stella looked back at Tyler, who was now suspiciously sniffing a cookie. “This is incredible.”
