He raised his head. “‘Thank you’ doesn’t do justice to what I’m feeling right now. But it’s all I have. So thank you, to you and your uncle.” He reached across the table and took Cindy’s hand, half rising from his chair so he could bring her fingers to his lips.
“You’re very welcome.” Cindy kept her gaze fixed on his. “It’s as much a gift for me, to see such appreciation for a fine work of art, as it is to you. I hope you’ll hang it in your home and think about me every time you look at it. That way, you’ll know how grateful I am for all you’ve done for my career—and for me.” She let her fingers linger in his hand for an extra moment, as her warm expression caressed his face. “Your support has made all the difference.”
Reluctantly, Wallace released her hand, and sank back down into his chair. “All I did was open the door. Your talent took over from there. And I should warn you—even though we’re celebrating your first big project, a deluge of them is about to follow. I’ve received a dozen cocktail party invitations for the next two weeks alone. Every one of the invitations is for the two of us, and every one of them is from an eager perspective client. Between that, and the word of mouth you’ll receive on this first design project you’re undertaking, you’ll barely have time to sleep.”
“How exciting!” Cindy lit up.
“Does that mean I can accept the invitations on your behalf?”
“Of course. I’m thrilled. It will give me the chance to line up new projects, and equally important, it will give us the chance to get to know each other better.”
“Nothing would please me more.” Wallace carefully rewrapped the painting and set it aside, then handed Cindy the package he’d brought. “This is just something that made me think of you—a small congratulations gift. It pales in comparison to the painting—and to you.”
Cindy lowered her lashes. She was
beginning to enjoy this game of romantic cat and mouse. “You’ve already given me my career start,” she murmured as she opened the bag. “That’s more than enough congratulations.” A soft laugh. “But I have to confess, I love presents.” She unwrapped the tissue paper, revealing a black, buttery-leather briefcase. It was classy yet high-styled, feminine and at the same time professional, with enough room for her sketches, portfolios, and even her laptop. It was clearly handmade by an Italian designer, and it had that wonderful new-leather smell that screamed success.
“Wallace, it’s stunning,” she murmured, taking it out and inspecting it, then opening it up and running her fingers over the soft suede interior. “And it’s so very—me.”
“My thoughts exactly.” He smiled, leaning back in his chair and squinting, as if picturing her walking down the streets of Manhattan, carrying his gift in her hand. “I have a minority interest in an Italian leather goods manufacturer. The overseas reps were in New York for Market Week, and I got the chance to see their new designs. This was the showstopper. The moment I saw it, I knew. It won’t even be available until next season. You’re the very first person to have one, which is fitting.”
A minority interest in an Italian leather goods manufacturer? For a fleeting instant, Cindy wondered if her A Sook knew about Wallace’s gift to her, and its source. If so, he was probably amused.
“I’ll bring it with me on the first day of my new project,” she declared. “Once my clients see it, they’ll have to hire me. They’ll assume that anyone who can afford something this exclusive and pricey must be earning a fortune—which could only mean that her work is superb.”
“And they’d be right to be impressed. But not about your wealth. About your talent and you. You’re a very special woman, Cindy.”
This was going even better than she’d hoped.
She leaned forward. “I’m glad you’ll be escorting me to all those cocktail parties. Frankly, I find this sudden notoriety a little overwhelming.”
“You shouldn’t. But not to worry. We’ll tackle the parties together.”
“You’re very kind.” Cindy paused, as if weighing her words. This next part of the conversation was crucial. She had to handle it just right, or things could fall apart very quickly and very prematurely.
“I don’t mean to be presumptuous,” she said, “but I feel as if we’re far more than casual friends. So I’m going to risk overstepping my bounds. My A Sook told me about your daughter’s tragic death. I’m so terribly sorry. A loss like that…I can’t even imagine how devastating it must be. I want you to know my heart goes out to you.”
The expression that crossed Wallace’s face was so tragic that Cindy almost felt guilty for bringing up the subject.
“If I’m violating your privacy…” she heard herself say.
“No.” Wallace shook his head. “You’re not violating anything, nor are you being intrusive.” A veil of tears moistened his eyes. “Losing Sophie was crippling. It still is. Talking about it is something I seldom do, but not because it makes the pain any worse. Mostly because there are no words to say, and no one I care to say them to.” He met her gaze. “I’ve been dead inside for a very long time. I know I’ll never fully recover. Part of me died with Sophie, and that part is gone forever. But the rest…” He drew in a breath. “Truthfully, I thought all of me might be dead. That’s why meeting you has been such a breath of fresh air. For the first time in ages, I feel a tad of hope, a possibility that someday I might have the impetus to get out of bed in the morning.”
“I’m glad.” Cindy’s conscience couldn’t take any more. Neither could her stomach. She understood all the reasons why she was doing what she was doing. But theory and reality weren’t the same.
She was tough. But apparently not as tough as she thought. She couldn’t pursue this subject. If she wanted to accomplish what her A Sook wanted her to, she’d have to accomplish it without discussion of Sophie. A five-year-old girl being killed by a hit-and-run driver was not something she could rub in Wallace’s face, whether or not his anguish satisfied her A Sook’s sense of equity.
“I hope I’m not scaring you off,” Wallace said in a rueful tone, clearly interpreting her silence as a sign that he was pushing too hard too soon. “I have no expectations. I try to take life a day at a time; it’s the only way I’ve survived. But if I’m overwhelming you, please let me know. You’re young, you’re vibrant, you’re beautiful, and you’re talented. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you, and the whole world at your feet. You deserve to share that life with a circle of people, particularly a man, who can offer you that same anticipation and exuberance. I have no delusions that I’d ever be able to rally enough to be that man. But, selfishly, I enjoy your company, and I find your energy infectious. So if you’re willing, I’m very happy to just enjoy this time together, and take things as they come.”
“That works perfectly for me,” Cindy replied, feeling on more comfortable ground. “My own life is so up in the air, and everything is happening so quickly, that I’m not in any position to plan long-term relationships. I enjoy your company as well—and I think you underestimate your assets. You’re self-assured, you have an aura of success, and you’re distinguished and handsome. Those qualities hold equally as much impact as youth and enthusiasm. So I agree, let’s just let things unfold as they’re meant to.” An impish grin. “I realize that being spontaneous is contrary to both our natures. We’re planners. We like being in control. From what I hear, playing the role of a free spirit has its merits.”
Cindy’s last comment had the desired effect, and an odd expression flickered across Wallace’s face. “Sometimes you remind me so much of that woman I mentioned to you. And I assure you, that’s a high compliment. She was unique, beautiful, and a free spirit, as you mentioned. Only in her case, it came naturally.”
“Was this woman significant in your life?”
“For a long time, yes. But we were very different. We eventually went our separate ways. It was best that way.”
Best for whom? Cindy asked herself, picturing Meili as the joyful girl she remembered, and reminding herself that this man was the reason she’d taken her own life.