The Art of Romance (19 page)

Choking back a laugh, Caylor accidentally caught Dylan’s eye. He smiled back, despite the heat rising up his neck into his cheeks, then looked away again.

Sage and Pax started talking about Christmas movies, and Perty and Mrs. Evans joined in. Sassy brought up Bing Crosby’s
White Christmas
. She turned her beaming smile onto Caylor—who was shaking her head—and Sage.

“Oh girls, you must do it.”

“Sassy—no, they don’t want to hear that.” Caylor crossed her arms and set her jaw in a stubborn expression.

Perty seemed to catch on to what Mrs. Evans wanted them to do. “Oh yes girls. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you do it. Please?”

Sage groaned. But she slid off her stool. “I think I remember all the words and movements.”

Caylor lodged one more protest but moved into the open area between the bar and the breakfast nook. “It won’t be the same without the big feathered fans.”

Dylan turned to watch them. Feathered fans? What were they talking about?

She hummed the introduction, and then she and Sage started singing a song called “Sisters.” Wait. Dylan had heard this song before. But he remembered that two guys had done it. Of course Bing Crosby and…some other guy in
White Christmas
. Perty used to make them watch it every year. Apparently Caylor and Sage’s grandparents had not only made them watch it, but get up and sing and dance with it, too.

Dylan had only been to a few shows on Broadway in the years he’d lived in New York and Philadelphia, but he was pretty sure he hadn’t seen anyone on stage there who was a better performer than Caylor Evans.

Oops, she caught him staring at her again. This time, though, she didn’t wink, and she almost hid her smile until she had her back turned to him.

Caylor and Sage got their signals crossed at the end and had to grab hold of each other—laughing hysterically—to keep from falling over. Dylan joined in the laughter and applause. He needed to apologize to Caylor for last night, for giving her any reason to feel uncomfortable.

Pax jumped up as if his seat were spring-loaded and assisted Sage with her bar stool again. Dylan sipped his cider to hide his amusement. None of the four of them had ever been very adept with women. But in the last few years, Spencer seemed to have come into Dad’s suavity, and his popularity with women simply from his inheriting all the good looks couldn’t be denied.

Then Sage did it. She asked
the question
.

“So, Pax, what do you do?”

“I’m a doctoral candidate in medical physics at Vanderbilt.” And away he went, explaining exactly what medical physics was and how important it was to the advancement of medical science and health care.

Caylor moved into the kitchen and had a hushed conversation with Sassy about sleeping arrangements at their house. On the pretext of getting something cold to drink, Dylan went to the fridge, getting away from Pax’s theory of physics monologue.

“So I can either take y’all home and then go pick them up; or I can get them, take them to the house, drop them off, and then come pick you up.” Caylor leaned against the edge of the counter over the dishwasher.

Mrs. Evans looked at the oven timer then around at everything laid out on the large prep island. “But this won’t be finished before you need to leave to get them.”

Dylan stepped forward. “I can take your sister and grandmother home, if that helps.” Would she understand his implied apology in the offer?

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, it’s not a problem. And I have enough room for all of the food, too.” He looked around at the bakery’s worth of pies, cakes, and cookies on plates, platters, and pedestals around the kitchen.

“That would be wonderful and save me a little time. Speaking of…” Caylor looked at the silver bracelet watch on her left wrist. “I should probably get going in a few minutes. I got a text alert a little over an hour ago that their flight from Washington DC left on time, and that’s only a two-hour flight.”

“So your parents live in DC?” Dylan bent over and leaned his elbows on the cool marble of the island.

“No. Geneva, Switzerland. My mother’s a doctor working on cancer research with the World Health Organization. Daddy’s a software designer for international banks and businesses.”

Wow. And he thought Mother and Dad had given him and his brothers a lot to live up to.

“You know, this kitchen is getting awfully crowded. Dylan, why don’t you take them over and give them a tour of the carriage house. Maybe show them some of your artwork.” Perty put her arm around his waist and gave him a squeeze as she slipped past him to get to the fridge.

Knowing the sketches he’d been working on early this morning—when he’d woken before dawn and hadn’t had the willpower not to draw—were well hidden, how could he not agree? “Sure, come on over. I just got some of my favorite pieces up on the wall day before yesterday.”

“Okay.” Caylor followed him out of the kitchen. He had to physically touch Pax on the shoulder to get his attention and tell him what they were doing. He assumed Sage would be grateful for the interruption, but as they shrugged into jackets to make the trek across the side yard to the outbuilding, Sage kept peppering Pax with questions about his research.

Caylor shrugged and shook her head as if to say,
There’s no accounting for tastes
.

Dylan held the door until Pax took over to hold it for Sage, then fell into step beside Caylor. “I’m sorry I had to leave early last night. Something…came up.”

“Bridget told me. I hope everything’s okay now.” She buttoned her purple wool peacoat against the cold wind. The color, like the dark aqua she’d worn last night, nearly drove him to the brink of seizures with the need to try to capture her red hair, ivory skin, and turquoise eyes. Sage’s eyes were a much plainer hazel—and set slightly too close together.

“Everything seems to be fine now.” At least, he hoped it was. He was comfortable around Caylor. He didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that until he got himself straightened out and figured out if they were supposed to be friends or if there was a possibility at a chance of more than that. That she was older than him—how much he wasn’t quite sure—did give him pause. But he liked her. And that crossed all age boundaries.

He sped his last few steps to open the door into the workroom beside the garage portion of the building.

She stepped up into the room. “What a great work space. Complete with laundry for if you get paint all over your clothes?”

That crooked smile of hers would be his undoing. He’d almost captured it in his sketchbook this morning but now noticed that she pulled the left side of her bottom lip down just a little bit less than he’d drawn it.

“Gramps and Perty had those installed when Pax lived here a few years ago. I think Perty was tired of doing his laundry for him.” He gave his brother’s shoulder a playful fist bump.

“Perty offered to do it for me. I was the one who pointed out there are hookups in here. Next thing I knew, they had someone out here installing a washer and dryer.” Pax wandered over to the stacks of canvases Dylan had been sorting when he arrived earlier. He crouched down and seemed to study all of them, then looked up at Dylan. “I don’t get it.”

“Don’t get what?”

Pax indicated the paintings with a wave of his hand. “This. When you can do what you do, why do this kind of…stuff?”

“Because it was what I’d been told was the kind of art I should be doing. But I’m going back to the other style.”

Caylor and Sage moved over beside Pax. Sage knelt down and started flipping through the images of doors, windows, and gateways. “I love these,” she breathed. “These really speak to me.”

Maybe he should suggest she go into counseling with Pax’s friend, too. “If you see anything in there you want, take it. I was planning to throw those away.”

Sage looked over her shoulder at him. “Really? But these are brilliant. I can feel the raw emotion in them.”

She sounded sort of like those half-off-their-rocker art critics who saw deep meaning in everything, even when it was something Dylan had slapped together with no more thought than if he’d dipped a dog’s tail in a can of paint and then held a sausage treat in front of him.

But as the paintings Sage held in her hands had come out of one of the darkest times of his life, maybe there was something in them that spoke to something dark inside of her. If it helped her, he’d be more than happy for her to take them. “Sure. Take that whole stack if you want them.”

“Don’t tempt me.” She flipped through them and pulled out a painting of a blue door in a black wall. Rhonda had loved the texture and juxtaposition of the bright blue against the black. “I like this one best. Are you sure you don’t mind me taking it?”

“Have it.” The fewer things he had around to remind him of Rhonda, the better.

“Why don’t you show them what you can really do?” Pax went back toward the door and started up the stairs.

He motioned Caylor and Sage to follow. He almost asked Caylor what she thought of the stuff down here, but he was pretty sure if she’d liked it, she would have said something by now.

Pax stood in the wide area at the top of the stairs under the three enormous history paintings. “This is the kind of stuff Dylan does best.”

“Oh wow—it looks so real. Almost like a photograph.” Sage moved closer.

Dylan stood to the side where he could see Caylor’s face. Her eyes moved over the paintings, and she stood transfixed, the way he’d probably looked the time he’d seen his first Titian painting on display at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York.

A warm glow settled in his chest.

Then, all color drained from her face. She frowned and moved closer, leaning her head back to study the center piece. She swallowed a couple of times, blinked, and took a jagged breath. When she looked at him, she forced a smile. “These are amazing, Dylan.” She looked at her watch. “I hate to run, but I don’t want to be late to pick up my parents.”

With that, she turned and practically ran down the stairs.

What had he done now?

Caylor’s heart didn’t return to a normal rhythm until she pulled off I-40 at the airport. It had to be a coincidence. Had to be.

Her phone rang. She jabbed the button on the steering wheel to answer it. “Hello?”

“Hey, sweetie, it’s Mama.” Her mother’s voice filled the car. “We’re picking up our luggage right now.”

“I’m just getting off the interstate, so you shouldn’t have to wait long. What carousel are you at?” She merged, with extreme caution, back onto the airport access road and got into the lane for passenger pickup.

“Nine. We’re coming out the door at the close end of the building.”

Caylor pulled over into the right lane as she approached the building. She slowed down before she got there, waiting to see if someone might pull out, but no one did, so she pulled up into one of the temporary, for-loading-only, spaces across the driving lanes from the sidewalk.

“I see you. We’ll be right there.” Mama hung up.

Caylor jumped out and popped the tailgate. Hadn’t she just been here doing this? Why had she insisted on taking Sage over to see Sassy? She could have waited until later.

Mama, her bobbed red hair getting lighter each time Caylor saw her, and Daddy, his short curly hair long since turned silver from the medium brown she remembered from her childhood, came jogging across the driving lanes as soon as the traffic cop stopped the two lanes of cars for them. They each pulled one large suitcase behind them.

Mama released hers as soon as she drew up to the car, and she pulled Caylor into a hug. Daddy put his arms around both of them and squeezed them tightly before disengaging to put the suitcases in the Escape.

Stepping back, Mama adjusted the collar of Caylor’s coat. “That color is so good on you.” Searching Caylor’s face, she frowned. “Is everything okay?”

Caylor shook off the bothersome suspicions and thoughts. “Yes. Everything is wonderful now that y’all are here.” She glanced over her shoulder. The traffic cop tapped his wristwatch. “We’d better go before they arrest us for impeding the flow of traffic or something.”

Daddy climbed into the front seat, Mama in the back, and Caylor once again took the Donelson exit out of the back of the airport. Her parents kept the conversation going with tales of the people they’d seen in the Geneva airport and on the nine-and-a-half-hour flight from Geneva to Washington’s Dulles Airport. Of course, getting through customs with a suitcase full of Christmas gifts always generated stories, and Caylor had almost forgotten what she’d seen in Dylan’s apartment by the time she pulled up under the carport at home.

Sassy and Sage greeted them at the door, and Caylor stood back, enjoying Mama and Daddy’s surprise at Sage’s appearance several days earlier than expected.

After the joyous reunion, Mama and Daddy took their baggage off to the guest bedroom on the far end of the house. Sage went out to the laundry room to put her first load of clothes in the dryer and start a second load, and Caylor went upstairs to change into something a little nicer to wear out to dinner.

As soon as she hit the landing at the top of the stairs, though, she didn’t go straight through across to her bedroom. She turned right into the office. From the top shelf of the inside-most bookcase along the wall behind her desk, she pulled out six books. She went through the first three quickly; then, at the fourth one, her knees gave out, and she sank into her office chair.