Find Wonder in All Things

chapter 23

James approached the hotel ballroom with a spring in his step but some trepidation as well. First of all, he wasn’t quite sure what one wore to that type of thing — tie, no tie, jacket? He asked around and found out that the reception wasn’t a formal sit-down event but rather a meet and greet for patrons to mingle with the invited participants and for the artisans to network and make business and professional contacts. So, he eventually settled on a shirt, open at the collar, and pants one step up from khaki’s. It was cool in the mountains at night, so he took a jacket as well.

Once inside, he got a beer and wandered the room. He saw Mr. Elliot in the middle of a group of people, and they exchanged curt nods of recognition. They had managed to avoid each other for most of last summer except for the most basic civilities, and it seemed that was going to continue for the short term. Rebuilding any kind of rapport with Laurel’s father would take time and effort, but James wasn’t ready to start down that road tonight. His relationship with the daughter was his first priority.

A flash of red hair drew his attention, but it was only Laurel’s brother Crosby. He sent him a wave, and James walked over to speak to him. The younger Mr. Elliot had been busy making business contacts all afternoon, and he had a small crowd gathered around him.

“James, my man!”

“Crosby.” They shook hands.

“I’d like you to meet some people. This is Luke Hatton, Robert Jennings, Marian Ivers and Scott Barrows. Everyone, this is James Marshall, lake area resident and software genius.”

“The James Marshall? EMP software James Marshall?” Luke asked, eyebrows raised.

“The very one,” Crosby said smugly. “He occupies a little lakeside hideaway on occasion, similar to the ones I was telling you about earlier. He loves it there.”

There was a muted chorus of ‘nice to meet you’s, and a once-over from Marian.

Crosby clapped him on the shoulder. “You clean up nice, James.”

“Thanks.”

“Has my sister seen you yet?”

“No, I just arrived.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here now.” He leaned toward James and lowered his voice. “Maybe you can keep old Cooper from sniffing around her all evening.”

James almost snorted beer up his nose. “What’s the matter, Crosby? Don’t you like the professor?”

“In the immortal words of our little sister Spring Violet — ‘he skeeves me out.’” He shrugged. “He’s fine, I guess. I’m not too keen on the idea of him spending so much time with my sister though. Dad, on the other hand, seems to think he’s a great guy.”

“What does Laurel think?”

Crosby rolled his eyes. “Who knows what Laurel thinks? She’s too polite to say anything regardless of whether she likes him or not.”

Crosby gestured across the room with his beer. “There she is. You can ask her yourself.”

He turned, and for the second time that day, James was thunderstruck by the woman he saw. Laurel stood with a group of other artisans, smiling and nodding in conversation. She wore a simple yet stunning blue silk dress that emphasized her willowy figure. Black stilettos accentuated her height and her long legs. She had pinned her hair back on one side, but flaming red waves cascaded down her back in hedonistic bursts of color. James’s mouth went dry, and he felt a nudge at his back.

“Get up there. And close your jaw before you trip over it,” Crosby teased.

James barely heard him. He approached Laurel and stood a few feet away, willing her to look his direction. She stilled as if she sensed him, and then turned so they caught each other’s eye. She stepped away from the crowd and held out her hand. He took it — not in the shaking hands motion of friends, but in the almost-possessive, holding-hands motion of lovers — and enfolded it in his, caressing her fingers with his thumb.

“You’re here.” Her words tumbled out in mild surprise.

“Of course I am.”

“I’m glad . . . to see you.”

“I’m glad you’re glad.”

“How have you been?”

“Fine. Better now.”

Their conversation lagged, and an uneasy smile overtook James’s face. “I don’t think I’ve talked to you since the day of Heather’s accident.”

“No, I guess not.”

“That was awful.” His expression grew somber.

“Yes.” Her face was neutral. How he wished he could read her expressions as easily as he did when they were younger!

He hurried on, worried that she might think he meant the kiss in her kitchen was the awful part. “I can imagine how wiped out you must have been after Heather fell and then all that waiting and worrying by yourself at the hospital.”

She cocked her head and looked at him, a multitude of questions in her eyes.

He forged ahead. “It was an awful day that has apparently resulted in some good, however.”

Her brow furrowed. “What — ?”

“The thing between Heather and John.”

“Oh yes.” She smiled. “Who’d have thunk it?”

“Not me, that’s for sure.”

“Not me either, and I thought I knew John pretty well.”

“Well, I know I knew him pretty well, and I was still surprised. I mean, nothing against Heather . . . at all. I know she’s a great gal, but it surprised me because — ” He stopped, not knowing whether it was the right venue for this comment.

“Because?” she encouraged.

“I don’t know — it’s just that he loved Fiona so much. He was devastated when she died. I don’t know how much he told you about her.”

“Quite a bit, actually.”

“Then I’m sure you know; she was a special girl — beautiful, good, extremely bright. John’s a smart guy and Heather . . . ” He paused. “Well, he and Heather just seem different in some pretty important ways.”

“I see.”

“John found his soul mate in Fiona, and then he lost her. I didn’t expect him to get over that in a matter of a few months.”

Laurel didn’t comment.

“But maybe Heather and John’s differences were what drew them together. I hope it works out for them,” he went on.

“Me too.”

“If anyone deserves happiness, it’s John.”

She smiled again, and James realized he didn’t want to be talking about John and Heather; he wanted to be talking about Laurel and James. He was interrupted by the dry, slightly nasal voice of Cooper Edwards.

“Laurel, dear . . . Oh, hello again . . . ” He paused, expecting another introduction.

“James,” they chorused, before sharing a smile.

Cooper looked back and forth between the two of them. “Right. Laurel, the Dearingers had a question about ceramic glazes, and I told them you were the person to ask.”

“Excuse me,” she said softly.

“Of course. Gotta take care of business,” James replied, trying to disguise his annoyance.

“Thanks for being a good sport, Jay. I knew you’d understand,” Cooper said to James, “being an entrepreneur yourself.”

Cooper took Laurel’s arm in a protective gesture and led her away. She stepped aside to shake him off. “I can walk, Cooper.”

“I wasn’t sure if you could in those shoes,” he said in a silky voice. “They do marvelous things for your legs, but they can’t be very good for standing on your feet all evening.”

She rolled her eyes, and he laughed as if he were teasing a child who couldn’t take a joke.

Laurel spent the next several minutes talking with the Dearingers, and then Cooper led her to someone else — and someone else and someone else. James stood, unsmiling, watching her. When she caught him looking, he turned away and joined Crosby in conversation with a group of art patrons, and Cooper continued to monopolize her attention for the next half hour.

James took another swig of his beer as he watched Edwards parade Laurel about the room as if she were a prize poodle. She looked miserable, and James couldn’t figure out why she wouldn’t just tell the guy to get lost, but then, she never would say anything like that to anyone — and that had always been the problem. She wouldn’t stand up for herself, not then and, evidently, not now. Unless . . .

He put the empty bottle down and sighed. Was she miserable because of Edwards, or was she merely uncomfortable at the necessity of promoting herself? Perhaps she was grateful for Cooper’s guiding presence at her side. He needed to regroup — to think this through. After his conversation with Benwick, James hadn’t expected any competition for her. That was a stupid assumption on his part. Then, his heart stopped for a moment. If Cooper Edwards is a family friend, could her parents persuade her to . . . ? No, this couldn’t be happening to them all over again. If that was the case . . . well, he wasn’t going down without a fight. A twenty-year-old James Marshall might have been young and stupid enough to walk away from her, but at twenty-eight, he was made of sterner stuff and had become used to getting what he wanted.

She was right all those years ago when she told him the mountain laurel was poisonous. This Mountain Laurel had certainly poisoned him: spoiled him for life and ruined him for any other woman. So, Marshall, what are you going to do about it?

One thing was certain, he needed to leave before he lost his temper. That night was too important to her, and he wouldn’t embarrass her with a confrontation. He said an abrupt good night to Crosby, who looked confused but didn’t stop him from leaving. As James approached the door, Laurel caught up to him at last.

“Hey,” she said softly, her hand on his elbow, “are you all right? You’re not leaving already, are you?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty tired. It was a long flight, and anyway, you’re busy. I don’t want to get in the way.”

“You should stay, James; there’s going to be music later — local talent. You’ll like that — that’s worth staying for.”

“I don’t think so, thanks.” He cast a surreptitious glance around the room, frowning when his gaze landed on Cooper. A mirthless chuckle escaped him. “Your warden is looking for you again.”

She turned to see who he meant, and when she turned back, James was gone.