Beginnings (21 page)

A lengthy silence hung over the table, broken by Aunt Marie clearing her throat.

“Well, I believe I’m ready for dessert. How about you?”

The bright note in her voice did little to ease Andrew’s discomfort, but he lifted his gaze and nodded. “Sure. Sounds good.” He glanced at Beth. Would she be willing to set aside her aggravation and try to end the evening pleasantly?

She unfolded her arms and placed her hands in her lap. Her lips curved up in a tight smile. “Just a small piece, please. Thanks.” Her tone was light, giving no indication of lingering anger, but when Andrew met her gaze, the spark in her eyes let him know they’d address this topic again. Soon.

Well, he decided, maintaining eye contact and lifting his brows, that was fine with him. Maybe it was time he and Beth defined their relationship. This time, though, it would be defined to his satisfaction. Maybe it was time to stop letting Miss Beth Quinn have the upper hand in everything.

***

Beth opened the plastic sack of goodies she’d gathered from the house and grinned down at Winky, who stood at her feet with his whiskers and tail tip twitching in synchronization. “Yes, I brought you some entertainment. You need something besides my feet to play with around here.”

The kitten stretched up on his back feet and pawed her leg, releasing a mournful meow.

“Don’t be so impatient,” she scolded with a light laugh. “Just like a male. Wants everything right now.”

Even though she had made the determination to keep her mind on finishing the window and not allowing thoughts of either Sean or Andrew to distract her, her own comment immediately had the opposite effect.

Sean wanted the window done
right now.

Andrew wanted to be in the middle of everything
right now.

And she didn’t know what she wanted.

With a sigh, she pulled a mateless sock—with every trip to the Laundromat, she seemed to lose one half of a pair—from the bag and began rolling it at the toe. “Let me turn it into a ball for you. It’ll be more fun.”

But Winky jumped up, eager to explore this new item. With a chuckle, Beth dropped the sock across the kitten’s back. He leaped in a circle, dislodging the sock, then dove on it. She watched him scoop the sock between his front paws and give it a thorough kicking with his back claws while emitting dangerous growls.

“You are something else.” She emptied the remainder of the bag onto the worktable. When he tired of the sock, she’d offer a new toy—a ball of tinfoil, a shoestring, or an empty matchbox. Anything to keep him occupied so she could work.

She glanced at the wall clock, her chest constricting. Andrew would be arriving soon. They needed to have their chat concerning yesterday’s dinner fiasco. For some odd reason, she felt hesitant to reopen the discussion. Maybe, she acknowledged, because she feared there might be some truth to what he’d said.

Why else had her heart fired into her throat when she realized Sean was on the other end of the telephone connection?

She shoved that thought aside. It didn’t matter if Andrew’s comment had merit. What mattered is that she needed him to focus on work instead of her personal life. And if that meant fighting like siblings or—she glanced at Winky, who crouched in preparation for a mighty pounce on the unwitting sock—two tomcats, then so be it.

The back door opened, startling Winky from completing his intended attack. Instead, he scuttled across the room and cowered behind the platform, peering out with round, yellow eyes.

Beth knelt down and stretched her hand toward the kitten, grateful for the opportunity to avoid eye contact with Andrew for a few minutes. “Hey, it’s okay. Come back here.”

Although she didn’t look, she knew from the silence he remained by the door rather than stepping into the room. Obviously, he was as uncertain about how to proceed as she was.

“So that’s the cat, huh?”

She didn’t turn around, but she nodded and picked up the sock, jiggling it to entice the kitten out of hiding.

“What did you name him?”

The cat’s tail waved above the platform like a flag. Beth snickered. “Winky.”

“That’ll make sense until his eye heals. But he probably won’t wink so much after that.”

Beth slowly straightened to her feet, the sock forgotten in her hand. “How did you know he had a bad eye?”

Andrew stared at her for a moment; then he scratched his head and shrugged. “Uncle Henry said it last night.”

Beth replayed the conversation concerning the kitten that had taken place at the dinner table. “No, he didn’t. Mom said if it was the same kitten Trina had, it had been hurt somehow, but nothing was said about a hurt eye.”

As she’d come to expect in moments of uncertainty, Andrew’s ears changed to a rosy hue. Suddenly she remembered another comment he’d made about being busy with a cat. She pointed at him. “You.”

He looked at her and gulped—one mighty up and down of his Adam’s apple. He jabbed his thumb against his chest, his eyebrows high.

“
You
gave me Winky!” The deepening color in his ears was the only confirmation she needed. “But why?”

NINETEEN

Andrew watched the cat dash from behind the platform and leap at the sock that dangled from Beth’s hand. The moment the furry streak smacked the sock with his paw, Beth released it, and cat and sock tumbled in a tangle at her feet.

“I love the cat,” she said softly. At the tenderness in her expression, he felt as though his heart tumbled in his chest as erratically as the cat tumbled on the floor with its toy.

“Good,” he managed.

Tipping her head, she lowered her brows in puzzlement. “But why leave it on the doorstep? Why not just give him to me?”

Even though his motivation for gifting her with the kitten had been to gain favor, he hadn’t anticipated her finding out so soon. He found himself at a loss for words, so he simply stood stupidly in front of the door with enough heat in his ears to replace the furnace.

Beth’s face fell. “You meant it to be a secret, didn’t you? I’m sorry I guessed.”

Andrew had heard an apology from Beth only once before, and that time she’d followed it up with a
but.
This time, no excuse or explanation followed. His lips wobbled into a smile. “That’s okay. I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out last night when I kept pouring salt on my food to get Uncle Henry to stop talking about it.”

Beth giggled. “How could you even eat after emptying the saltshaker on it? Mom has always seasoned her food well enough. It must have tasted awful!”

He rubbed the underside of his chin, grimacing. “It was pretty bad. I drank lots of water after I went home.”

They laughed together. When the laughter faded, Beth crouched down and petted the cat, which had finally given up its fight with the sock and lay washing its feet.

“Andrew, about last night ... and my reaction to your comment about Sean...”

Andrew took a deep breath and moved forward several feet. He bent down, too, his elbows on his bent knees. “I might have been out of line, but I’m not going to say I’m sorry. Because that would be lying.”

Her forehead creased. A warning sign.

He continued. “I do have some concerns.”

To his surprise, rather than bristling, she sat on the floor with her legs criss-crossed. She tugged the cat into her lap and scratched his chin. His purr rumbled. “Okay. What?”

“Okay...” He paused, organizing his thoughts. Beth had so often insinuated he couldn’t separate business from personal, he wanted to be sure he kept this conversation on a business level. Personal could wait. “First of all, this idea of asking for an extension on the consigned piece so we can finish the McCauley window early. I don’t think that makes good sense.”

Her fingers continued stroking the cat’s neck, but her gaze didn’t waver. “Go ahead.”

“I thought your goal was to have your own gallery, make pieces of art available to the public,
and
work for McCauley.” His knees complained, so he shifted, moving to sit on the edge of the platform. Beth’s eyes followed him. “But if you forgo everything and just focus on McCauley, you risk running off the very people who can bring in business to the gallery or online.”

Beth surprised him by smirking.

“What?”

“You said ‘online.’”

Andrew frowned. “What’s wrong with that?”

She shrugged. “Nothing, I guess. It’s just you’re the first Mennonite I’ve heard use a word that referenced the Internet.”

Andrew snorted. “We might not use it, but we’re aware of it, Beth.”

“Don’t get defensive,” she said, but her tone remained friendly, open. The kitten had fallen asleep. She planted her palms on the floor behind her and leaned back. “How can focusing on McCauley run off other business?”

Her return to the topic caught Andrew by surprise, and it took a moment to get his thoughts back together. “Think about it. What if Uncle Henry, when a particular person came into his shop with a mechanical problem, set everyone else’s needs aside and took care of that person exclusively? How would those who had tractors or cars waiting feel, being treated as though their vehicle didn’t matter as much?”

Beth’s shoulders rose and fell in a slow-motion shrug. “They probably wouldn’t like it.”

“Do you think they’d bring their business to Uncle Henry again, or go elsewhere?”

The impish smirk returned. “Well, seeing how there’s only one mechanic in the whole town of Sommerfeld, they’d probably grumble and wait their turn.”

Andrew refused to be caught up in teasing. “And that works as long as you’re the only one providing the service. But you aren’t the only stained-glass artist in the state, are you? The Fox Gallery can go elsewhere. Customers can go elsewhere. You have more to lose.”

Even as he spoke, he recognized Beth had a rare talent, something that set her apart from other stained-glass artists. He waited for her to point out her unique ability to create depth. To argue that her work was worth waiting for. But she surprised him again.

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe I shouldn’t put one ahead of the other but recognize that each client, each project, has equal value. But...” Her brows pinched; her tongue sneaked out to lick her lips. “But if I don’t get the McCauley contract, so many of my other desires won’t be fulfilled. I need the money from the McCauley contract to expand the studio, buy equipment, hire more—”

“If you want it all, you have to do it all.” Andrew leaned forward, increasing his volume and fervor. “You can’t let anything slide. You’ve got to satisfy Fox, you’ve got to satisfy McCauley, and you’ve got to prepare for the customers who will be coming to your door.”

She had to listen to him. Only if everything she had planned—the showroom, the Web site, the church windows—came to pass could she hope to support more than one person with this studio. He couldn’t let her drop one for the other. She needed them all to see her dream come true.
He
needed them all for
his
dreams to come true. He wouldn’t let her back off now.

Beth sat staring at him, her lips clenched together, for several long seconds. Finally, she drew in a breath through her nose, her gaze narrowing. “Andrew, will you answer one question for me as honestly as you can?”

Although he knew he might set himself up for an uncomfortable situation, he could do little else but nod.

“Are you sure you don’t want me putting everything else except the McCauley project aside to keep me from having a long-term relationship with Sean McCauley?”

Andrew stifled a groan. He’d agreed to answer, but now he wasn’t sure he could form one. Yes, he was jealous of the attention she paid Sean McCauley. Yes, he wished she would pay more attention to him—and not as an employee. That was why he’d given her the cat, which she clearly loved. But never having said anything remotely personal to a girl before, he had no words. He stared at his linked hands in his lap.

After a few silent seconds, Beth released a sigh. “It’s okay. You don’t have to answer. It’s enough that you think about it and realize that if this studio is to take off, Sean McCauley is going to be a part of the picture around here. You’ll need to accept it eventually. And sooner would be better than later.”

***

After their lengthy talk that morning, Beth had put conversation on hold so she could concentrate on the window. Despite Andrew’s arguments, she had instructed him to stop working on the second cardinal piece after lunch and help with the McCauley project instead. He’d scowled but followed her instruction, working in from the opposite corner of the platform.

The work was painstakingly slow, each piece requiring a tight fit with no gaps if the window was to hold its shape without buckling when lifted to a vertical position. Twice Beth had stopped and applied the carborundum stone to small bumps on the edge of a piece to insure a better fit. The meticulous task, while satisfying, was also stress-inducing, given the need for accuracy.

Winky did his best to add moments of levity by pouncing on their feet or leaping onto the platform to curl into a ball and turn on his motor. He always managed to land right where she needed to place the next piece of glass, bringing a laugh that eased her taut muscles and refreshed her.