“I’m going to be showing three paintings in Chandler Vanbeck’s new art gallery.”
Claire’s and Jane’s eyes grew wide.
Jane clapped her hands. “That’s wonderful!”
“Congratulations! I’m so excited for you!” Claire held up her drink, and they all clinked glasses.
Maxi took a deep breath. “I’m not going to lie, I’m terrified. But I met with Chandler Vanbeck, and I figured if I turned him down, he might not offer again so...”
“You’ll do great,” Jane assured.
“Well, I don’t have time to dwell on it because he wants three paintings, and I only have a couple of days to get them done.”
“Oh, I guess youwillbe busy.”
“I think that will be good. I feel like this is a new chance for me to do all the things I never did when I was busy raising the kids and being a model wife.” Maxi made a face. “All the things that James didn’t seem to approve of.”
“Good for you. I know it hurts now, but look at me. Peter hooking up with Sandee was really for the best.” Claire glanced around the restaurant then lowered her voice. “And I can’t say it does feel like just deserts that Sandee is cheating on Peter. He deserves it.”
“Payback is a bitch.” Jane bit into the pineapple from her drink.
“Yeah, he deserves it.” Maxi’s look turned serious. “But don’t let that poison you about all guys. Your two seem to be real gems.”
Both Claire and Jane blushed.
“Let’s hope so. I’m taking things slow,” Jane said.
“Me too,” Claire agreed. “Actually, I think our two guys are over at Salty’s watching the ball game together.”
Jane’s left brow quirked up. “Oh? Good for them. I wouldn’t want them to get too dependent on hanging out with us. We girls need our space.”
“Here, here.” Maxi raised her glass, and they all clinked again.
Chapter Nine
James’s hunch that Maxi might be at Splash with Jane and Claire turned out to be correct. She looked happy, laughing and talking and sipping one of those frou-frou drinks she liked. She looked good, too, in one of those shirts with the wide loose sleeves that she sometimes wore.
He loved seeing her happy, but this time, it broke his heart because she wasn’t happy withhim. When was the last time they’d laughed together like that?
He stood in the shadows on the beach where he could see the patio, but no one could see him. He felt like a creepy stalker, but he wasn’t stalking Maxi, not really. It was just that he’d been so desperate to see if she was okay that he’d taken to scoping out the places that she liked to frequent.
But now that he’d seen her, he knew he should leave. He turned, causing an avalanche of sand to fall into his Italian leather loafers. Darn it! Those things cost a bundle and were shined to perfection. He bent down to brush them off, taking care of a few white hairs Picasso had managed to deposit on the cuff of his slacks in the process.
He probably shouldn’t have worn his good slacks and shoes to the beach, but James prided himself on his appearance. That was one thing he and Maxi had in common... they always dressed properly.
Except...
He glanced back over at the patio. Maxi wasn’t wearing one of her usual muted-toned tailored outfits but was wearing something colorful and loose. She usually dressed in a more business-like manner. He’d complimented her on that many times, telling her she looked classy. But he’d noticed whenever he traveled, she took to wearing the more bohemian-style outfits... was that because of his influence? He liked those outfits, too, but he’d never complimented her on them.
Now that he thought back, Maxi had tried to encourage him to dress down a bit. Like he used to when they were younger,she'd said. Was that one of the reasons she was unhappy with him? He had been less conservative in their younger days, but once he started moving up in the bank, he had more responsibility and had to keep up appearances. He couldn’t act or dress like a carefree youth anymore. Had he gone too far?
Walking in the dark back to the parking lot, James wondered if it wasn’t time to make a change. Looking around, he noticed the other people walking in and out of the shops had on T-shirts and shorts. No one was dressed for success. He looked out of place.
Maybe it was time for a change. Maybe it was time to loosen up a bit about his reputation and how things looked.
James headed up the street toward a crowded tavern he’d seen a few streets over. He was going to do something he hardly ever did anymore. He was going to a bar for a beer.
“Yes!” Mike Henderson fist-bumped Rob Bradford as the Red Sox scored a triple homer. They were playing against the Yankees, and everyone in Salty’s was jazzed that they were winning.
