Page 12 of The Sweetest Season
“That will never happen!”Ivy declared, not in disbelief, but rather as a proclamation.
“I am doing my best to make sure of that.Luckily, Mr Forrest supports me in this.Many employers wouldn’t.”
Noel looked a little choked up as he put a hand on his friend’s shoulder.“The least I can do, after what you did for me.”
Bea watched the scene, feeling quite at sea.What else had she missed, lost in her own kitchen amid spun sugar and buttercream?
Ivy and Emmanuel were talking earnestly, moving away from the carriage as they did so.Noel pulled Bea aside.“Let the two chat,” he suggested in a low voice.“Emmanuel has spent the last few years with only a cranky invalid for company.He deserves some joy for himself.”
“Have you none?”she asked, then checked herself.It was far too intimate a question, even if they had been rather intimate earlier.“I’m sorry, I have no right to pry.Especially when I refuse to speak of my own life.”
“You have your reasons, I’m sure, Beatrice.But to answer your question, I have more joy than I did a month ago,” he said with a sly smile.
“Oh?”
His smile widened.“I’m starting to paint again.That’s something, isn’t it?”
He was teasing her.She knew it, and shelikedit.
“I have a suggestion,” she said suddenly.“You said you were working with particular colors to improve your skills.I’ll do the same, so long as you promise to keep pursuing your painting.”
“How?”he asked, confusion knitting his brows.“You’ll only bake red things?”
“Don’t be silly.I’ll focus on a particular ingredient.Name me what you want to taste, and the next order will feature it.A sort of challenge.For us both.”
He looked at her, his eyes kindling.“Intriguing.But I’d hate to think that you’re working on something else, beyond what you already do all day.”
“What’s one more thing?”she said, impatiently brushing his objection aside.“I can manage.”
“Yes, you manage everything quite well,” he said.“But sometimes I wonder if you take time to actually enjoy your life.”
Bea blinked in surprise.While she did find herself rather overwhelmed by the demands of her business, she didn’t think it was so obvious.“I thank you for the concern, but I won’t mind because this change will be enjoyable.Tell me what you want first.”
“Very well.”He paused, thinking, instinctively licking his lips.“Coffee.”
“Done.”Beatrice smiled.Coffee would be easy.
Then he handed her a small package.“Oh, one more thing.Please accept this.”
“What is it?”she asked, taking the flat package.
“A thank-you for making this gathering a success.”
“Noel, I can’t.Not after being so rude to you.Again.”
“Take it.It would be rude not to.”His smile warmed her.
At home that night, she unwrapped the package.Under the paper was a small, unframed painting.It was very simple: a partially sliced lemon resting on a dark wooden surface.
But he hadn’t really painted a lemon.He’d painted tang and tartness and bright Mediterranean sunlight.Somehow he captured a drop of juice about to fall, so real that she wanted to catch it on her finger and taste it.
Something about the painting felt very personal, as if it was a message for her alone.But that was nonsense.He simply mentioned that he’d begun using colors again, and was testing his skills with easy pieces.Well, his skills were impressive.All his skills.
Beatrice propped the little canvas up on her dresser so she would see it again in the morning.If he asked, she would definitelynottell him which room she kept the painting in.He might get ideas…
Chapter 5
The next day, Beatrice calledIvy into the office, where she was poring over the account ledgers.
