Page 105 of The Misfits of Copper County
I met his eyes and lowered my voice again. “Seem to recall myself grunting once or twice a couple hours ago, Monroe.”
The red streaked down his neck into his collar.Bingo. “So you did,” he said in a higher-pitched tone. “So you did. And I, for one, am in favor of it. Never had a problem to begin with, quite frankly. In fact, I think we could probably afford to take a quick grunting break right n—” His eyes bulged as a woman I didn’t know stepped forward to greet us. “N-now, who’s this? Marjorie? What the heck are you doing here?”
I glanced at the woman I’d heard so much about. The woman whose voice had risen loud enough through the phone I could hear it from the other room when Delaney had insisted he’d really meant it when he’d told her he was done traveling far from home in pursuit of a story.
“I came to bring you a framed copy of the story as well as a few messages thanking you for writing it and finally exposing Empire Ridge to the public. Mardison-Solvey was especially grateful since they were in the midst of a liability trial against Empire. And the Ghazali family was over the moon. Apparently, their daughter was on the verge of turning down an opportunity to study abroad because of money, and your article returned their confidence in the future of their plumbing business. Once you figured out the Beatty Site Solutions piece and found their other fake layouts, Empire was toast. Well done as usual, Delaney. You’re my bestandmy favorite.” She beamed at him.
You can’t have him back, I wanted to blurt, but I kept my mouth shut. Delaney’s journalism career remained just as important to him even though he’d changed directions with it and was focused on stories closer to home. Still, I couldn’t help but worry I would lose him to the road one day, regardless of how many times he’d assured me he was mine for good.
Delaney’s relaxed smile reassured me. “Nice try, Marjorie. I’m not covering the broken dam story.”
“It’s in upstate New York!” she squawked. “Only a few hours from here by car. I don’t see why?—”
Delaney gestured around us. “This is why. See that woman in the painting? Her story was never told. And I’m in the process of telling it.”
“Why can’t you do both?” she asked. “Keep the money coming in while you work on the project of your heart. It’s a common enough tactic for writers.”
Delaney shook his head. “I don’t need the money coming in. I landed me a sugar daddy.”
I barked out a laugh, drawing attention from several Coppertians nearby. “Hardly,” I said. My arm snuck around his back and pulled him closer. “Although I wouldn’t be opposed to sharing anything I have with you. It’s not much in the end. My most recent client only paid me in sexual favors.”
Marjorie’s eyes lit with humor while other people’s eyes bulged in shock, not because of what I’d revealed—Delaney’s and my relationship was old news in O’Leary and Copper County—but because I’d been so casual about speaking of it publicly.
Delaney laughed up at me. “That’s not true. I paid you in cash money until you began refusing it. Then I had to get creative.” He lifted an eyebrow, reminding me of the “creative” things we’d done to each other the night I’d refused to take his final renovation payment. We’d spent hours closed inside the jam cupboard while I thrust many, many lessons about gratitude into him, and he’d sucked his frustration out of me.
“Creative,” I said, clearing my throat. “Yes.” Later, I might mention to him thatcreativewas a near anagram forerotic cave. But there was only so far I would go right now in revealing our personal life in public.
While Delaney insisted jam cupboards didn’t need to be secret, they sure as hell needed to be private, especially on the odd Friday night.
I straightened my expression and offered a polite smile to Marjorie. “Has Delaney told you about the artist behind the exhibition tonight? About his discovery?”
“Ourdiscovery,” Delaney said, repeating a common refrain with a glare in my direction.
“Right.Ourdiscovery,” I said softly. I leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “The first of many, hopefully.”
He stumbled over his words a little when he began telling Majorie about E. Winters and the paintings in the jam cupboard but eventually got on a roll. People moved closer to listen to him talk about the amazing artist behind the paintings and the lifelong love she had for her partner, Jean.
As I watched him hold court and share his passion for the story, I saw part of him come alive in a way I’d rarely seen when we’d first met last year.
Tam moved back over to me, this time bouncing little Tierney on her hip. Lucas wandered off to look more closely at the painting that featured the half-built observatory. Theo and Bennett had camped out near that one to answer questions about the observatory to anyone who wanted to know more since they lived there now.
“He’s in his element,” Tam said, tilting her head at Delaney as he launched into a timeline of E. Winters’s life in Copper County.
“Who would have thought?”
She laughed. “I knew he had it in him. The question was whether or not he’d let himself relax enough to realize it.” She glanced up at me. “He’s actually good with people. If he can get out of his own way and let go of his insecurity.”
I nodded. “I used to think he was a snob,” I admitted.
She laughed. “Oh, he is. Surely you’ve heard his lecture about why powdered tannins in wine are?—”
“A structural shortcut,” I finished the phrase with her with a chuckle. “Please don’t let him hear you, or he’ll start expounding on the use of Mega Purple in cheap domestic reds. Trust me, you do not want to get him started on Big Cab Sav.”
She nudged me with her shoulder. “I have to hide my boxed wine in a container that says ‘breast milk stuff’ just to keep him from discovering it.”
We watched him for a few more moments until Tam glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. “Everything okay with you and your dad? Delaney warned me not to bring it up, but I can’t help but ask how you’re doing with all of this? Are you mad Delaney still wrote the story?”
I took a deep breath and let it out. “Tam. I’m so fucking proud of Delaney I don’t know how to put it into words. He worked his ass off getting to the absolute truth of the situation and then presented it from all sides. Like a good journalist should. I would have been angry if he’d sat on it, and I would have been disappointed if he’d written it the original way he’d intended. But I also know he never would have done either one. He’s good at his job.”
