Chapter Fifty-Three
?
The Massachusetts autumn remained cooler than normal. Shivering, Sophia entered her art studio thinking about the events of the last few weeks. First, she presented a hugely successful gallery exhibit. Guests and investors from all over the East Coast were in attendance. Her dream was becoming reality as word spread about her art. Then, in the course of a day, her whole world fell apart.
The call came just as she left for her studio two weeks earlier. She almost didn’t answer but decided to pick up after the fourth ring. The New Jersey police called to inform her—a blue Toyota Camry was found by passing drivers. The accident must have occurred during the night. It was believed that perhaps her father lost control on the wet leaves, or it may have been an acceleration issue. She could request tests. The policeman offered his sincere condolences. Could she possibly travel to New Jersey and identify the bodies? Both her mother and her father were killed instantly.
Sophia had so many responsibilities—so many activities—the next week passed in a blur. There was the funeral planning and settling of their estate. That would take months or years. Sadly, she hadn’t realized the debt her parents incurred helping her with her art.
Now, with a minute to herself, she couldn’t stay home. She feared she would do nothing but cry. That was why—even on this cloudy Saturday afternoon—Sophia decided to go into the studio. Putting her purse in the office, she heard the bell on the front door. Damn—she’d meant to lock that. It wasn’t that she was afraid. This was a great town. She just wanted some quiet time alone.
As she stepped into the studio, the man at the counter looked familiar. Maybe he had been at the gallery event, or she had seen him on TV? She couldn’t be sure, but his eyes were so dark and mesmerizing. “I’m sorry, I’m not open today. I just forgot to lock the door,” Sophia said, as she approached the handsome stranger.
“That’s all right. I can come back,” the dark-eyed man said with an agreeable smile. “It’s just that I travel a lot and happened to be in town. A friend of mine told me about your gallery. He was here a week or so ago and bought three pieces. I’m very interested in nature, and he said you have a wonderful selection.”
Sophia exhaled and smiled. “Are you a friend of Jackson Wilson?”—the man’s smile widened as he nodded his head—“He’s one of my biggest fans.”
“I don’t get this way often. Are you sure you couldn’t give me a speed tour? By the way, my name is Anthony, Anthony Rawlings.”
Sophia stuck out her hand. “Where are my manners? I’m so sorry. My name is Sophia, Sophia Burke. I’d be glad to give you a tour.” She couldn’t stop looking at those eyes.
“With one condition”—Anthony said, his eyes shining—“you let me buy you some dinner and a drink after the tour.”
Sophia gently took the man’s elbow to lead him around the studio. After a few minutes of enjoying his charm, she decided why not? After the last few difficult weeks—what harm could one dinner and drink do?
The End