"Ida," I exclaimed, horrified, "you can't just spread everyone's business like that."
"I'm sure she was just talking about sandwiches," Archer said, smirking at me. "You know how much I love to eat sandwiches." His phone rang, and he stepped out to take the call.
"Making him work for it—good for you," Ida said, taking a swig of her drink.
"I'm going to replace that with water," I warned. She clutched the glass to her chest.
"Today," I told the group, "we're exploring stained glass. This is a very popular medium, and it looks beautiful in your house."
I helped them score and break the pieces of colored glass and showed them how to solder the pieces together.
"Not something you should do tipsy," Ida said as she took another swig of her third or fourth drink.
"No, it's not," I said, feeling slightly alarmed as the old woman waved the soldering iron around drunkenly. "You could burn or cut yourself."
"I'm making a penis," Ida announced.
"Please don't."
"But—"
"You know what?" I said, throwing up my hands. "It doesn't even matter at this point." I poured a drink of my own.
"At this point, Ida's art is the closest any of us are going to get," Dottie said.
"Hazel's getting enough action for everyone."
"Did it look as great as this one?" Ida asked, holding up her stained-glass art.
The penis was constructed of purple and blue stained-glass chips. The metal holding the pieces together wasn't all that straight.
"I didn't actually see it," I admitted.
All the elderly women gasped. "You need to make sure it's adequate," Ida said. "You know, scope it out. See how it measures up."
Archer walked back in, phone in hand.
"You'll tell me if mine looks all blue and purple like that," he whispered to me.
I was wrung out by the time we were done with the art retreat. Trying to make sure they didn't set the place on fire was exhausting. I was disappointed Archer didn't hang around. He waved to me when he left, little brothers trotting behind him. He was on the phone again. But he was a business man, so I supposed his time was in high demand.
It was just as well. I needed to finish the painting of his conference center. I put the Closed sign out on the Art Café. I had to finish the painting tonight. The Svenssons's presentation was tomorrow.
I went back upstairs and looked at the painting, making notes of what all needed to be touched up. Because of the heat, the oil paints were curing nicely. I only had a few more hours of work.
There wasfurious knocking at the door. My heart leaped as I hurried downstairs. Was it Archer? Nope. McKenna glared at me through the window.
"Let me in!" she shrieked.
"No," I said through the glass.
"You think because you're sleeping with him that it means something?" McKenna hissed at me. "You're all going to be sorry for humiliating me."
"You're doing that all on your own," I retorted. "You can't keep stalking people. I know you showed up in Harrogate because you heard Archer was here."
McKenna sneered at me. "He's just using you," she said. "Trust me. Archer Svensson lovesme. As soon as you help him win that bid for the chocolate factory, mark my words, he's going to dump you on the side of the road with all your garbage art, and he'll be jetting off to Manhattan with me."
I refused to let her see how much the words stung.
