“I see.” She took a measured step forward, her heels clicking on the tile. She tilted her head, scrutinizing one of the paintings resting on an easel. “Ah, a Heather Parker illustration. Her art is simple and has a nostalgic tone to it.”
Amanda couldn’t tell if that was a compliment or a subtle critique. “So what paper did you say you were from?”
Desiree waved a dismissive hand. “I write for many papers. Freelance. This is for an article on small, regional art shows. Hoping to get a good placement for the article. I’m going this weekend to a festival in Naples. Quite a large one.”
Sensing a hint of condescension, she raised her chin. “Ours isn’t that large, but we do have some excellent quality work.”
“Hm,” Desiree answered noncommittally.
The woman wandered around, looking at the items with a discerning eye. Her face was a mask of neutrality. A knot of nerves tightened in Amanda’s stomach as the woman looked at each item and took a few notes in a sleek leather notebook, her expensive fountain pen scrawling across the page.
Desiree picked up Connor’s woodcarving and turned it this way and that, frowning with perfectly arched eyebrows. She put it back down on the table and turned away without writing a note.
“That’s lovely work, isn’t it?” Amanda interrupted. “He’s a local and very talented.”
Desiree turned to her. “I suppose for local talent, all these items are reasonably well-crafted. To be quite honest, I’m not sure what I was expecting from these regional art shows. I’m used to doing reviews for some bigger showings in New York and Los Angeles. Also covered a large one in Taos. Those tend to attract artists from all over the country.”
“Well, our Heritage Festival aims to celebrate the island’s rich history and focus on the incredible talent of our local artists.”
“Yes, I can see how such a quaint idea would hold appeal for the local community.” Desiree flipped her notebook closed with a decisive snap. “I do appreciate having the chance to prescreen the art since I’ll be at another, larger show the weekend of your festival.”
“I’m glad you could come and see the work of our talented artists.” Amanda guided Desiree out of the room and to the front door of city hall.
Desiree glanced at her watch. “Oh good, if I hurry, I can catch this next ferry back to the mainland. Good luck with that bridge. I hope it gets finished soon for the sake of all of you stuck on the island.”
Amanda watched the woman walk away and a sinking feeling began in the pit of her stomach. She wasn’t sure she was going to like the article the woman wrote. She seemed singularly unimpressed with any piece of art and unable to see the heart and soul the artists had poured into each piece.
If it was merely a freelance piece, perhaps the woman wouldn’t even secure an offer to publish the article. Amanda could only hope. She headed down the sidewalk, her sensible flats scuffing against the concrete as she made her way back toward her cozy cottage.
She couldn’t worry about the article now. She had things to do. And she didn’t care if some stuffy city woman wasn’t impressed with their festival. It was going to be a fabulous event, and all she wanted was for everyone to enjoy it. Especially all the townspeople who had finally come around to accepting her and appreciating her hard work organizing everything.
CHAPTER 20
Afew nights later, Connor asked her over to dinner at his place, and there was no doubt this time he considered it a date. He blatantly stated it was. Excitement and nervousness fluttered through her as she slipped on a simple sundress, the soft cotton fabric caressing her skin. She carefully curled her hair, leaving it down to drift around her shoulders in soft waves. A touch of mascara and a light sweep of coral lipstick added a touch of color to her face. If she was ready, then why was her heart beating faster? She dug in the drawer, found some blush, and swept a brush of it across her cheeks, giving them a healthy glow. With one last look in the mirror, she turned and headed to the door.
She stepped out onto her deck and saw Connor out lighting the grill on his porch. He saw her and waved, a smile spreading across his features. She raised her hand in a slight wave, her silver bracelets jingling, and crossed the sandy expanse between their cottages. She climbed up his wooden stairs and dropped her shoes onto the worn planks, slipping them on quickly.
He crossed over, took her hand, and squeezed it. “Glad you could come over. I’m grilling some grouper. Hope that’s okay.”
“Sounds absolutely delicious.” She loved being on the island and the easy availability of a variety of fresh fish.
“Made a salad and a potato casserole recipe my sister gave me. If it doesn’t turn out, we’ll blame her.” He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “But I picked up some pie slices from Beverly. Didn’t trust myself making dessert.”
“I’m sure it will all be wonderful.”
“Why don’t you make yourself comfortable? I’ll go get us some wine.”
“You know you don’t have to drink wine just because I like it. You can drink your beer,” she offered, not wanting him to feel obligated.
“What can I say? I’ve developed a taste for it myself these days. I got help picking out this bottle too. Hope you like it. It’s a pinot grigio. Supposed to go well with fish.” He headed inside and she stood at the railing for a moment, watching the waves. Something so soothing and comforting about their endless movements.
She turned when she heard him come back out, the soft creak of the deck boards announcing his return. He handed her a glass and clinked his lightly against hers. “To hoping the meal turns out.” He grinned widely.
“To a nice evening.” She took a sip and savored the crisp, tangy flavor. He’d once again picked out a perfect wine.
“Come, keep me company while I grill the fish. Won’t take long. Everything else is ready.”
She followed him over to the far end of the deck and leaned against the railing, watching his movements as he placed the fish on the grill and sprinkled an aromatic seasoning over them. He concentrated on his grilling while she watched. He soon flipped the fish over. He looked up and caught her watching him. “Doesn’t take long for it to cook.”
