“And didn’t you win an award last year?”
“Fine Art photographer of the Year at the International Fine Art Competition in Tokyo.” He made a face.
“Wow. You’ve come a long way from renting bikes on the beach and selling your photographs at the Sunday Arts and Crafts Show.”
“Yeah. Those were fun times, though.”
She tipped her head. “You were never totally satisfied being a beach bum.”
He nodded, realized he’d almost cleaned his plate. That was the first time that had happened in quite a while.
“Would you like more?” She motioned to his empty plate.
He hesitated. “Sure.” What did he care if Krissa thought he was a pig?
But she seemed pleased as she took his plate and filled it again.
“I heard you also got a book deal.”
His gut clenched. He stared down at the plate, appetite suddenly gone again. “Yeah. Had a book deal. I can’t do it now.”
She slid onto her stool, eyes watching him. “Because of your eyes?”
“Yeah.” His throat tightened. “They gave me a deadline. I couldn’t do it now even if my eyes were better tomorrow.” He picked up his fork.
“I’m sure they would make another offer. Once you’re better. If they wanted you to do a book before, they’ll still want you in a few months.”
“Maybe.”Ifhis eyes got better.
“Tell me what happened.” Her voice was soft, and the caring in it squeezed his chest. “Derek didn’t know much.”
“I was shooting in Costa Rica. I ate some bad fish and got food poisoning. Botulism. I was lucky, because one of the guys I was with was a doctor and he knew immediately what it was. He had it, too. So we both got treatment right away, thank God. But for some reason, one of the side effects is this goddamn light sensitivity.” He shook his head. “It’s apparently a pretty rare side effect, the doctors down there had to look it up on the Internet. And of course, it didn’t affect Mike. Just me.” Bitterness burned inside him. It was the worst fucking thing that could happen to a photographer.
“But you can see?”
“Yeah, I can see, but I can’t take off these damn glasses except inside with the curtains drawn. Makes it pretty hard to take pictures.” It was like constantly looking at everything through a neutral density filter.
“Oh, Nate.” She looked at him with distressed eyes. “It must have been awful. Botulism can be fatal, can’t it?”
“It can be, especially if it’s not treated right away. Often, they don’t realize what’s wrong until it’s too late, so, like I said, I was lucky.”
He grimaced, ate some beef, not wanting to offend Krissa by turning away the food she’d just served him.
He looked up at her. “Derek said you’ve started your own business.”
“That’s right. Consulting. I am now Inspired Solutions.”
“So have you finally found what you want to do?”
She met his eyes—although she probably couldn’t see his behind the damn glasses—and smiled faintly. “I think so.”
“Took you long enough.”
Krissa’s job hopping had been a source of teasing since he’d met her. In her ten years since college, she’d probably worked for ten different companies, ranging from a brewery to a pharmaceutical manufacturer to an insurance company. Therewas always something wrong with every place she worked, yet her employers always loved her and she never had trouble finding another job.
She laughed. “I know, I know. Luckily Derek’s been doing well, so we could afford for me not to have steady income coming in. But as it turns out, I’ve been really busy.”
“All those companies you worked for probably hire you. They want you back.”
