2

Chapter 2

She stood with her hands at her waist

and looked the installation over. “I

don’t like the light. Switch it out for a

different bulb.”

This was her biggest piece yet.

Hell, the biggest sale yet. Not a lot of

money as things went, but enough to

know she was making a living, even

a small one, from her work. And that

was important.

A mixed-media piece. Watercolor

and paper. In three distinct parts, like

a winged altar. It was going to hang

in the large, open atrium of Cal

Whaley’s small office building.

Speaking of Cal, he wandered out,

looking handsome and studious in his

natty three-piece suit holding a sheaf

of papers. He clearly hadn’t been

expecting her though, because when

he looked up from the papers in his

hands he started and then smiled

when he saw her.

“Daisy!” He kissed her cheek.

“What brings you…Oh, today is

installation day.” He noted the work.

“I love this so much. Really brings

some color and life into this space.”

It did. With vivid blues and

greens. Evocative of the water they

were surrounded by, of the forest too.

It had come to her on a hike they’d all

taken nearly two years before. In the

spring when everything had been

clear and sharp. They’d been

standing on an overlook, taking in

Puget Sound and she’d been so glad

to have had her camera to capture it.

She’d spent another six months

tinkering with the idea as she’d

finished another project.

And the whole time Cal had been

her biggest supporter, telling her he

wanted her to do it already so he

could buy it.

“It’s not hard to look that great in

this space.” The windows soared to

the third-floor landing, flooding the

room with light, the art reflecting

Eagle Harbor out in the distance.

“Now you need to finish the glass

piece so I can buy it for that alcove

over there.”

She

laughed,

flattered

and

delighted.

“I’ve got to run. I have a client

meeting in about twenty minutes. We

need to have lunch soon.” He bent

and kissed her cheek.

“We do. Also, thank you, Calvin

Whaley. For buying this piece.”

He cocked his head. “I love it. I

loved it before you had finished it. I

laid claim to this over a year ago.”

He grinned. “So thank you.”

It was those little moments that got

her through the times when it seemed

she’d never make it.

Turning back to the task at hand,

she scrambled up the ladder with the

level and the lightbulb she thought

would work better.

Levi had loved this building for a

few years. It was close to the ferry,

but not too close. The view was

incredible. He’d considered renting

office space here before deciding to

have a home office built. But one of

the investigators he often worked

with had space here they let him use

when he had need of a conference

room.

And now, three hours later he was

hungry and sick to death of his

clients, but they’d hammered out a

deal both sides could live with and

he could be done with this project.

“Will we see you at the luncheon

next month?” Jessy Calhoun asked as

she tucked a file folder into her bag.

He’d paused at the front doors to

say good-bye to everyone.

“The fund-raiser?”

He sat on the board of several

charities, including Created Families,

which raised money and awareness

for adoption and foster care. Jessy

Calhoun, the woman who asked, also

sat on the board. She and her husband

Elton had adopted four kids and now

that they were all in college, they

were foster parents.

“I’ll be there.” He looked at the art

going up in the lobby. “We should

auction off something like this.” The

light caught it perfectly, creating a

nearly seamless feedback between

the water and the wall.

“I can find out who the artist is if

you like.” Jessy buttoned her coat.

“I can do it. I’ll get back with you

about it. See if we can’t get him to

donate

something.”

Levi

was

remarkably good at getting people to

donate things for auctions.

“All right then.” She waved and

was gone and he turned back, heading

toward the spot where the people

were installing the art.

And then one of the workers turned

around and he realized it was Daisy.

He hadn’t forgotten her name. Hadn’t

forgotten the way she’d submitted to

him as they’d danced. The warm,

solid weight of her in his arms as

they’d moved.

Today she wore a red bandanna in

her hair, Rosie the Riveter style.

With a jumpsuit to match and bright

pink sneakers. She wore chunky

black glasses and a tool belt.

She sent him a bland smile until

she recognized him and it brightened.

He felt it straight to his toes.

“Well, hello there, Levi. What

brings you here today?”

“I had a meeting here in the

building. I wanted to ask—”

“Levi?”

He turned to catch sight of

opposing counsel standing on the

stairs leading to the conference room.

He took Daisy’s hands and

squeezed. “I’m sorry. I have to deal

with this.”

He liked the disappointment on her

face. “All right then. See you

around.” She stepped back and he

had to force himself to move away

from her and back up to work.

By the time he finished and came

out, the art was up and she was gone.

Damn.

The

work

was

beautiful.

Unexpected as he looked closer and

saw the layers, the delicate paper

against the bolder brushstrokes of the

watercolors.

There was a small plaque that

read: #14. Ramona.

He’d have to contact the owner of

the building, Cal Whaley, to get the

information. Too bad. He was hoping

to get the info from the lovely Ms.

Huerta instead. It was most likely a

sign. If he believed in such things.

Daisy wasn’t surprised to find Mary

on her doorstep when she opened

after the knock.

“I bring food.” Mary Whaley, her

closest friend, held up a cotton tote

bag, the kind she always used to

bring all manner of delicious treats to

her friends’ homes.

“Lucky me.” She opened up and

stood to the side to allow Mary to

pass. Daisy followed her into the

small kitchen. Once Mary put her

things down Daisy gave her a hug.

“You busy?” Mary looked around

as she put her jacket on the back of

the chair.

“I am now that my friend has come

and brought me dinner.”

Mary’s smile was fast as her eyes

lit. “I’m trying a few new things. I

need your opinion.”

“Score.” Daisy brought out plates

and silverware. “These wedding-

type gizmos or for the supper club?”

“I may have a catering gig.”

“Yeah? Do tell!”

Daisy knew Mary had been trying

to build her catering business for the

last two years. The food truck biz

was complicated. It was impossible

to park the truck anywhere but

private property in Seattle. She’d

managed

to

work

out

some

arrangements with property owners

around town but Daisy knew what

her friend really wanted was a full-

time gig with far more certainty than

the truck.

And, as Mary cooked better than

anyone else Daisy had ever met, she

wanted it for her too.

“Try the soup first. I’m going to get

your broiler working to finish these

other things.”

“Is this a stand-up event?” She

peered into the container of soup.

The smoky scent of curry hit first.

“It is. But the soup will be in shot

glasses. Easy to use.”

She managed to find shot glasses.

“I’m going to say up front a shot of

that soup won’t be enough.”

Mary slid a tray of something into

the oven.

Daisy drank the soup and it was

better than she figured it would be.

And that was already really good.

“This is criminally good. Can you

use larger containers?”

“They have larger shot glasses that

hold a triple shot. Or maybe an

espresso cup. Hm. Going to think on

it. I want it to get your senses ready

for what’s next.”

Daisy toed off her shoes near the

back door. “You gonna tell me the

specifics of the gig or am I going to

have to beat it out of you?”

“A friend of Adrian’s needs a

caterer for an industry thing.”

Adrian was Adrian Brown, their

best friend Gillian’s fiancé, who also

happened to be a huge deal rock star.

“So cool!”

“It could be, yes.” Mary thrust a

plate of something at Daisy, who

quickly gobbled one up and groaned.

“You like?”

“Honestly, I don’t know why you

always look so nervous. You’re an

amazing cook, silly. Now, tell me

what this is.”

“Figs with honey and cheese on

homemade toasts. I worry they’ll get

soggy though.”

Mary was an amazing cook.

Clever, intuitive, she made art in her

kitchen

every

single

day

and

sometimes the only person who

didn’t get that was Mary herself.

Daisy arched a brow and put a

hand on her hip as she looked toward

her friend. “You’d have to imagine

they’d sit around for very long.

Which they won’t. I’d push these

things so hard. I’m assuming you’ll

need me to help staff this gig?”

“Would

you?”

Mary

asked

hopefully.

Daisy snorted. “Where else would

I be? The money is good. The work

is good but not overly hard. I get to

sneak samples. That’s all sorts of

win/win. Plus I get to see you with

everyone excited about your food

like they should be. Just say when

and it’s on my schedule.”

“Now Gillian just needs to choose

a date for the wedding.” Mary’s

corkscrew curls were currently being

restrained by barrettes and some

ponytail holders, but one had already

won free at her temple.

“Don’t you think that’s what

they’re going to tell us all at

Delicious next week?”

Delicious was the name of the

supper club Mary had started many

years before. At first, and mainly for

the last several years, it had been for

Mary’s friends. They’d gather once a

week, usually on Fridays, but

recently it had shifted to Sundays to

accommodate everyone’s schedule.

More than just a woman who

loved to cook who made dinner for

her

friends,

Mary

had

turned

Delicious into a hot secret everyone

knew. And everyone wanted in. So

much so that people paid a yearly fee

for supplies and they’d be invited at

random to a certain number of

dinners or afternoon events.

Their

friends,

the

core

of

Delicious, were always on the guest

list. But for everyone else, it was an

event to get their number called to

attend a dinner.

“Yeah, probably. She’s not one for

coy, our Gillian. But this guy is good

for her. He’s been on her to set a date

for the last two months. I can’t

imagine she’s going to be able to

hold out much longer. Especially

now that the renovations on their new

house are in full swing.”

“Been a long time for her. I’m

happy. Gillian deserves her happily

ever after. And it’ll be a great job for

you too.” She tipped her glass of

cider in Mary’s direction.

“He might want some big wedding

with a crack catering staff instead of

his new wife’s friends.”

Daisy snorted. “Yes, I’m sure.

After one look at Adrian and his

family you can totally tell they care

about the thread count of the napkins

and your china pattern.”

A joke of course, as Adrian and

his sister, also a rock star, had

multiple tats and his brother ran a

tattoo shop. Their friends were a

wild assortment of awesome jobs,

hair colors and wild backgrounds.

Above all they were down-to-earth.

They fit with Gillian’s friends

perfectly.

“I just want her to be happy.”

“Of course you do. Jules will

make the cake and you will make the

food. That’s Delicious.”

It had been Daisy who gave the

name Delicious not only to the

weekly gatherings but also to her

group of friends, the sexiest, funniest,

most awesome women she knew.

Women who were always there for

each other. Whether it was to kick

someone’s

ass to

make

them

straighten up, or to defend and

protect. They were part of her family.

They were delicious in every way

and it pleased her that it had stuck.

Daisy waved a hand at all the

food. “This is awesome. More cumin

in the meatballs maybe?”

“I was thinking the same thing.

Maybe the sauce needs a tweak

instead? What do you think of the

cheese straws? Those I just made up

a batch for because I know your

grandma

loves

them

and

she

promised me some jam if I made her

some.”

Daisy laughed. “She’s greedy for

your treats.” She bit into one of the

lighter-than-air straws. “So good. Oh

what’d you add?”

“I used a new kind of cheese. It

had black peppercorns in it. I’m

going to premiere them at dinner.

How was your day?”

“I finished a new piece. Want to

see?”

Mary jumped up eagerly. “I can’t

believe you need to ask.”

Other than her grandmother, Mary

was always the first person she

showed her new work to. Daisy

knew she’d tell the truth.

They went through the small house

to the studio out back. Daisy and her

grandmother shared the space, a

garage converted to a workspace for

her grandmother and then when the

time came, they added a kiln and

space for Daisy’s mixed media work

as she’d begun to truly explore art

professionally.

Suddenly nervous, she stopped

Mary at the door. “Okay so this is

something a little new for me.”

Mary took her hands. “Hush you.

Let me see it.”

Daisy pushed the doors open and

pointed. Mary took a few steps and

halted, sucking in a breath as she took

it in. “Wow. This is…wow.”

Crimson and vivid green mosaic

created the outline of a woman’s

body. Paper and pen and ink gave her

more detail. Her arms arched above

her head, wrists bound.

“Good wow?”

Mary turned. “Yes. Really good

wow. Daze, this is crazy good. Hot.

Gorgeous. I love it.”

She grinned and hugged Mary tight.

“Thank you. I don’t know. It’s not my

usual thing but it…it just came out of

me.”

“When the others see this, there

will be a fight to see who gets to buy

it. I’d try to snag it now but then

everyone

would

whine.”

Mary

winked.

“I really do need to have more

buyers than you guys. Not that I don’t

appreciate it and all.”

Mary laughed. “Girl, you think we

pity-buy your art? One of these days

the stuff we snagged at a bargain will

be worth enough to get our kids

through college. We’re smart. And

lucky to have such a talented friend.”

Pride warmed Daisy. She was

lucky in her friends. “You’re

fabulous. I’m going to enter it for art

walk.”

“Oh! Such a great idea. If they turn

you down, they’re idiots.”

Art walk had started as an

informal thing some local artists had

started five years before and now it

was a regular event. Each quarter

they had a themed one with specially

chosen pieces on display in front

windows all over town. Daisy had

been dreaming about her work being

in one of those windows ever since.

She’d

grown

up

in

her

grandmother’s shadow. Which was

overwhelmingly a blessing. She’d

had a great example to follow.

Wonderful advice. A teacher, a

critique partner at times. Her biggest

cheerleader and also her harshest

taskmaster.

But sometimes people seemed to

believe she was only doing well

because her grandmother opened

doors for her. They took one look at

Daisy, noted her age and wrote her

off.

She wanted her successes to be

something she made on her own. She

appreciated her grandmother’s help

and advice a great deal. Never felt a

need to apologize for it. But she

craved independence in so many

ways, having people take her

seriously for her work was one of her

ultimate goals.