Wild Man Creek
Page 33

“As in nervous?” Colin asked.
Lilly just giggled and came toward Colin, as well. “Nice to meet you, Colin. And no, Clay isn’t nervous.”
“I want it official so Lilly’s grandfather can stop glaring at me and so my son, who just graduated from high school, can stop teasing me.”
“I think I understand. Does it happen soon?”
“Later in summer. We go home to the Navajo Nation where I have more family than I know what to do with. How have you been?”
“Excellent,” Colin said. “I dropped by to take you up on your offer, Clay. You mentioned you have a cousin with a gallery. If he’s willing, I’d like to talk to him, get his advice on what to do with my work.”
“Ah, the wildlife art. Of course. I think I have one of his cards. Excuse me just a moment.” Clay walked away and left Colin with Lilly.
“Your sister-in-law Shelby is a friend of mine—we’ve ridden together a few times,” Lilly said. “She talks about you and your astonishing work. How do you like the area?”
“More than I expected to,” he said. “It is really a very special place.”
“I’m glad you like it here. So, I understand you’re going to talk to Shiloh.”
“Shiloh?” he repeated.
“Clay’s cousin, the artist. Named for some Bible reference about the silent one or peaceful one. The Tahoma family is known for their involvement in many wars—right up to code talkers in World War II—and Shiloh came along during a peaceful time. He’s a Native artist, but what’s most interesting about him is that he also carries other art in his gallery that’s stunning. You can read about him and see some of his works online—Shiloh Tahoma. He’s regionally famous.”
“You’ve met him?” Colin asked.
“No,” she said. “I have a classical art education—I studied art history and modern art but I was naturally drawn to some of the Native artists. I will get to meet Shiloh at our wedding. According to Clay, the Tahomas are very big on births, deaths and weddings, so every relative will be there.”
He laughed out loud. “That describes the Riordan family exactly. Apparently the Irish and the Native community have a great deal in common.”
Clay returned with the business card. “Here you go. Call him, tell him we’re friends and ask him what he recommends. Shiloh is very successful in the art community now, but he’s been painting for a long time. Against much adversity, he seems to have found his niche and with that, success. You’ll find him very helpful.”
Colin studied the card, which was simple. It had a name, address, Web address and phone number. “Thank you. This is all new to me.”
“I saw your painting. I don’t know anything about art, but I don’t think it will be new to you for long,” Clay said. “Best of luck.”
By mid-June the weather in Virgin River had warmed considerably and Jillian’s gardens were beginning to flourish. Even the most delicate of her seeds had erupted into strong stalks and vines, coming alive with health and vitality, giving her great optimism. Flowers were in full bloom around the house in bright yellows, purples, reds and pinks; huge hydrangea and rhododendron shrubs added their colors of powder blue, lavender, pink and white. In the big open garden Jill clipped buds to strengthen the vines or stalks, delaying some fruit but hoping for a heavier crop when the plants were stronger. Green apples hung from the apple trees, and blackberries, still green, weighted down the bushes. The hanging baskets around the porch were sporting tomato vines and were speckled with small fruit, some already ripening.
It was during this time that Jill’s sister, Kelly, said she was taking a little time for herself and wanted to drive up to Virgin River to check things out.
“Either she’s way more concerned about me than she let on, or something else is going on—it’s like pulling teeth to get Kelly to take time away from the kitchen,” Jillian told Colin. “For at least the past ten years the only vacation of the year she’ll take is one week or so with me and our two best girlfriends, and we usually plan it for early fall.”
“Did you tell her you’re fine?” Colin asked.
“A hundred times. I want her to come, of course—I miss her. Finding time for each other with our demanding jobs has always been difficult—having her for a week will be heaven… As long as everything is okay.”
“I’m going to ask you something,” Colin said. “I want you to be completely honest with me. Would this be a good time for me to be scarce? Entertain myself so you and your sister can have some time alone?”
She almost jerked in surprise. “Are you kidding? I’m sure part of the reason she’s coming is to meet you! You don’t have to disappear.”
“Should I plan to sleep alone…?”
She laughed at him. “I think Kelly can handle the idea of us sharing a bed as long as we don’t embarrass her with the sounds of our wild lovemaking.” She ran her fingers over his lips. “We’ll find something to stuff in your mouth.”
“All right, consider this option—I’ve been meaning to make a road trip with my work. Lake Tahoe, Sedona, Albuquerque, Sante Fe…. I met a man while I was out painting in a pasture—a Native American guy who said his cousin is an artist with a gallery in Sedona and that Southwestern galleries were big on wildlife art. I looked at the cousin’s work online, emailed him, spoke to him on the phone and he recommended some other galleries as well as his own. I’ve been putting out feelers, but the bottom line is that I have to show original work. Since I have to take some representative work, I have to drive.” He noticed her eyes lit up. “It’s going to take me a week or so. I could meet your sister, spend a couple of days here while she’s visiting, then take off. You’ll have some privacy with her while I’m gone, but I wouldn’t be running out on you.”
“You’re going to do it, Colin? Get an opinion on your work?”
He nodded. “I’m curious, Jilly. But we could both be disappointed, you know. Could be I’m just a novice staying busy while my bones mend.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. But it really says something that you’re going to check it out anyway.”
“So you like that idea?”
“Spend a couple of days with us, two or maybe three, then head out on your road trip? I like that idea—but you have to promise to be in touch every day. I want to hear all about it. Everything, I want to know everything.”
He promised. “What’s Kelly like?” he asked.
“She’s very beautiful,” Jill said. “Maybe it’s for the best you’re only going to spend a couple of days with us—you might find yourself hopelessly in love with her.”
He couldn’t help it; his eyes got as big as hubcaps. “Whoa, Jilly! In my mind there isn’t anyone on earth more beautiful than you—inside and out.”
She smiled sweetly. “And this is why I let you hang around, Colin. Because you always say the most intelligent things.”
As Kelly made her way toward Virgin River she couldn’t help but wonder if her younger sister had found true love. Oh, she’d been told it was love with an expiration date, but would that really come to pass? If it was real, something would have to change. He would stay or she would give up her garden and go with him. Simple. If you found The One, you did what you had to do.
Fortunately for Kelly, she’d found The One. Unfortunately, he was not available to her. Professionally, they were close—he was a mentor and a good friend. They were in touch all the time and had many long discussions that always started with food and went from there. All Kelly could do was exactly what she was doing—perform as an exceptional sous-chef and try not to take these intense discussions too seriously or too personally. She tried not to let it show that he’d already swept her off her feet and she was consumed with him.
Luciano Brazzi, an Italian chef with his own restaurants and merchandising food products, was a wealthy man; a beautifully sexy man; a charismatic man who spoke to her inner chef and inner woman. He was eighteen years older than she, but it didn’t seem like there was an age difference at all and she knew in her heart that he would prove to be incredibly virile. “Italians, you understand, do not grow old there,” he once told her in a joking manner.
He romanced her with food and they often cooked together, either at her restaurant or in one of his kitchens. When they did, sometimes he would feed her, slipping a morsel past her lips. He loved to spoon tiny bites into her mouth; she fantasized about being free to let him kiss the taste from her lips. He shared his most secret recipes with her; she made some of her great-grandmother’s best for him. For chefs, this was almost as intimate as foreplay.
He praised her talent and promised to help her get her own kitchen, perhaps her own restaurant—something she’d lived for and worked toward for years. If anyone could make that happen, it was Luca; he was very influential and very rich.
She dreamed about what the sex would be like. They would surely come together like mating cyclones. She wanted him with all her heart. They seemed completely compatible.
But there was one glitch. He was married.
Now was a good time for Kelly to be away. It was to be a busy week in the Brazzi household. Luca’s children, who were either married or had been away at school, would all be at home and Luca would be completely unavailable. They wouldn’t even have a phone chat, much less a cooking session.
Kelly had heard all about Colin, but she’d kept Luca to herself. Kelly had never once mentioned his full name or the details of their professional friendship. Chances were good Jillian would have heard of him or even seen his name on the side of a deli container.
It wasn’t quite four in the afternoon when Kelly pulled up to the front of the Victorian. She parked and followed the drive around to the back where she thought she might find her sister—and she was right. She could see her prowling around a huge garden inside a five-foot cyclone fence with a large gate at each end. Kelly watched. Jillian would walk a few feet, crouch and examine a plant, pinch a bud or flower, stand to walk a few more feet, crouch again, and so on.
As she neared, Kelly saw that the garden flourished; some of the plants were growing tall, full and dark green. There were vines winding up parts of the fence and small trellises. Some plants were staked to hold them up, some had strong stalks, some were covered with porous cheesecloth, some were bushy. The rows were immaculate and the color rich.
“It actually looks like you know what you’re doing,” Kelly said.
Jillian jumped and whirled. “Kell!” Jillian ran down the row in her red rubber boots and cargo pants, out through the gate and threw herself on her sister, hugging her hard.
Kelly laughed and returned the hug. Then she held her sister away from her eyeing her gardening clothes. “Not exactly what I expected,” Kelly said, “but close. When was the last time you wore a bra or panty hose?”
“Panty hose—once. And a bra now and then. I have this sports thing on. It does the trick.”
Kelly just laughed. Then she turned full circle to take in the yard—things had certainly changed since she’d first seen it almost a year ago while out here on vacation with Jillian and their girlfriends. The house was beautifully groomed, for one thing—freshly painted and sparkling in the late-afternoon sun. There were two new aluminum storage sheds nestled between big trees and a road cut through the trees out back. Just then, she saw a young man on the road driving a golf cart toward them.
When he pulled up to Jillian and jumped out she said, “Denny, meet my sister, Kelly. Kelly, my assistant, Denny Cutler.”
Kelly put out her hand, but he just stared down at his. “Um,” he said, wiping it on his pant leg. “Sorry, I’m kinda dusty. Nice to meet you.”