She picked it up and stood in the light, holding it perfectly for the camera. “How long ago did you break up?”
“A little over two months,” I replied, snapping her picture. “He's been trying to get me back since then.”
“Seriously?” Charlotte's smile dropped with disbelief.
“Yeah,” I shook my head. “He won't leave me alone. Emails, text messages, flowers at work. He keeps trying to remind me how awesome he is and how terribly lucky I was to even be with him. Like I should just get over the fact that he was sleeping around because he's God's gift to women. Chad's an idiot.”
“With a name like Chad, can you blame him?” Charlotte grinned at me. This was nice. I liked having someone feminine who wasn't related to me to talk to. I had friends back home, but telling them how badly I had misjudged Chad was embarrassing. They were all his friends too. He was the hometown hero and I was the nerdy girl he had picked up. Without him, I wasn't special. It was nice to have someone firmly on my side of the breakup.
I was thoroughly enjoying hanging out with Charlotte. Unfortunately, her phone chirped. She set down the statue, checked it and then put it back in her pocket with a frown. “Just a reminder that I have work to do. What are you doing for dinner tonight?”
“I have no idea,” I replied. “I haven't thought that far in advance yet.”
“It's my night off tonight. Want to have a girl's night?” Hope shone on her face. Charlotte needed a friend as much as I did.
“I would love to have a girl's night.” It was just the change of scenery I needed. Dad would be fine on his own tonight, especially with the doctor just minutes away. It was better than sitting and fretting all night.
“Excellent!” Charlotte beamed and picked up another statue. “I'll come get you at seven and we'll go to the local hotspot. They make the best daiquiris.”
I snapped another picture as she posed for me. “What about you? You have a special someone?”
She blushed a deep red and shook her head. “Nope.”
“Uh huh.”
She rolled her eyes. “There's someone I wouldn't mind dating, but I think he just sees me as an extension of Bastian.” I frowned and she immediately held up her hands. “No, it's okay. I'm so busy right now that I don't have time to see anyone anyway.”
I was about to say something uplifting, but Charlotte's phone started to ring. She set down the statue and mouthed a sorry
before answering. “This is Charlotte Page, how may I help you?”
I moved to a painting, trying my best not to listen to her phone conversation, but her voice echoed through the big foyer.
“Oh, hi Leo... yes... okay, I can do that... Give me just one second.” Charlotte touched my arm, and pointed to her phone with an apologetic face.
“Go, go,” I whispered. “Thank you for helping me. I'll see you at seven.”
Charlotte grinned and then hurried up the stairs, talking into the phone with Leo.
I smiled after her, feeling lighter than I had in weeks. I had only been here for a couple of days but I already felt comfortable here. I even had a friend. It felt good. Without worrying about seeing Chad all the time, having to remind him that he betrayed me and that no, we weren't getting back together, I felt like me again.
I held up the camera to take another picture, shifting slightly to adjust for the light. I looked up to check my light source, only to see Bastian's walking back into his study. My cheeks turned hot enough to start a wildfire and I hoped that he hadn't been listening to Charlotte and my conversation.
It was embarrassing admitting that I had been so stupid with Chad. I wanted Bastian to think I was more than what I was at home. When he looked at me with those beautiful eyes, I didn't want him to see that I was someone else's left-overs. If I wasn't good enough for Chad, then there was no way I would be good enough for someone like Bastian. That made him the last person in the world that I wanted to know about Chad.
Chapter 11
Despite the myriad of rooms in the mansion, I sat in the first room I had started the appraisal. I liked this one, as it had the most comfortable couch I had found and the Morisot painting. After running around the house taking hundreds of photographs and reporting to Dad, I had taken the room over as my office. Now that daylight was fading, I had retreated to the couch to upload all the images to get them ready for my father to organize and edit.
I stood up to stretch as my ancient laptop processed another batch, wandering over to the Morisot picture. The natural light was fading, but the picture was still vibrant. I stared into it, absorbing each brush stroke and imagining myself sitting at a dock along the Seine.
“And I find you looking at that picture again,” a voice said from behind me. I spun startled to see Bastian leaning against the door frame. He was still wearing a full button-up dress shirt and slacks, but at least the top button on the shirt was undone. His eyes, blue-gray and fathomless were fixed on me.
I smiled, glancing back at the painting. “There's something about it that makes me think of Paris.”
He nodded thoughtfully before walking over and pointing to the painting further down the wall. “That one reminds me more of Paris. Yours makes me think of Cannes.”
“You've been to France?” I asked, looking at the other painting. It was a cityscape and I had to agree that it fit more with the image of the city of Paris than a boat did.