Susan Mallery - You Say It First

“I want to say you’re wrong, but you’re not. It’s funny, I was just thinking about this last night. I’m Libby’s daughter and sometimes she’s the voice in my head. I’d love for that to change, but I don’t know how. It wouldn’t be so bad if it was a good voice, but mostly what I hear from it is disappointment.”

“Tell the voice to shut up.”

She smiled. “Good advice. I’ll try it next time.” She tilted her head. “It’s funny how we’re all so different. I have a twin brother—Cade. He and I are so completely different. He never wanted to go into the family business. I know he loves our mother but he never worried about making her happy. He always did his own thing.”

“You envy that.”

“I do. I hate disappointing her but I can’t seem to fall into line. It’s not a comfortable place to be. I envy Cade’s ability to simply be his own person.” She wrinkled her nose. “You know, now that I think about it, a lot of my friends are creative. Violet made this. Silver has her business and it has a creative side.” She wrinkled her nose. “Natalie’s a super gifted artist.”

“Natalie Kaleta? Our Natalie?” The part-time office manager-slash-artist from Willow Gallery?

She nodded. “Have you seen her work?”

He thought about the large pieces Natalie did—paintings, but using paper and found objects instead of paint. They were bright and textured and offered an optimistic view of the world.

“She’s very talented,” he said.

“Right? I’m surrounded by you artistic types. Maybe I should let that rub off on me instead of paying attention to my mother.”

“Does Weddings in a Box help?”

“Mostly. I like what I do. I like the variety.”

“As long as they stick to the menu.”

She grinned. “Yes, the menu is our friend.” The smile faded. “There are challenges. I’m not in the best financial shape, but I’m working on it.”

“Do you pass on costs to the wedding parties? If they want something off the menu do they have to pay for it?”

“Sure. They buy a package. Anything extra is on them.”

“Then why not offer crazy things? Make them pay for it. With the right markup, you’ll increase your profits.”

She shifted from foot to foot. “In theory,” she began.

“But?” he asked, doing his best not to smile, because he got it. On the one hand, Pallas knew exactly what to do to make her business more solvent. On the other, the thought of making changes made her uncomfortable.

“Some of the things the brides want are unreasonable.”

He raised his eyebrows and waited.

She sighed. “This black-and-white princess wedding. She wanted zebras.”

Nick thought about the grazing animals by his brother’s house. “The ones from the animal sanctuary?”

“That’s them. Zebras. Can you believe it?”

“You told her no.”

“Of course. I looked into it and I just can’t. According to the Library of Congress zebras can’t be domesticated. They’re unpredictable and are known to attack people. To be domesticated, animals must meet certain criteria. They have to have a good disposition and shouldn’t panic under pressure.”

“Has the Library of Congress ever met a cat?”

She laughed. “I didn’t ask. My point is zebras aren’t going to work at a wedding.”

“Sure they are. Just put them in a pen somewhere and have someone watch over them. The bride pays, you make money. It’s a win-win.”

“It must be nice to simply be able to do as you please.”

“It is,” he told her. “You should try it.”

She stared at him. “Why are you here?” She smiled. “I mean why are you in Happily Inc and not wherever you’re from? I’m not asking the existential question.”

“Good because I’m not all that deep.” He considered how to answer, then decided to tell her the truth. “I’m from a small town at the foothills of the Sierra Nevada. It’s called Fool’s Gold. I moved here to get away from my father.”

Her eyes widened. “That’s honest.”

“I already know your family secrets. You might as well know mine.”

“I appreciate the fairness of that.” She nodded. “I know your dad is a famous glass artist, right? Ceallach Mitchell.”

“Impressive.”

“I told you, I Googled you before the second interview. That’s how I knew you were so successful.”

“Not that successful. Not when compared to him.”

“Is that the problem?”

“His fame? No. It’s him. He’s a driven man who likes to control everyone around him. Especially his sons.” Not the ones who weren’t artists, Nick thought, but he wasn’t about to go there. “When I was twenty-two, we did an exhibition together. It was a year of hell. He told me what to do and how to do it. It wasn’t how I wanted to live my life.”

“The result wasn’t worth it?”

“Not even close. Opening night, there was a lot of press, a lot of attention. He loves that—I don’t.” He turned his mind away from those times and the memories that still lingered. “I learned that there is such a thing as too much passion when it comes to my work.”

The past seemed closer than it had in a while. Probably because he didn’t usually think about it. “When my brothers and I were kids, my dad drank a lot and he had a temper. He would go on a rampage and destroy a year’s worth of work in an afternoon.”

She winced. “That must have been terrifying.”

“It was. After he and I had worked together and had the show, my girlfriend broke up with me. I found myself throwing pieces against the wall.”

“You didn’t want to be like him.”

“Exactly.”

“So too much passion is a problem in both art and life?”

“Yes,” he said firmly. “Passion consumes.”

“Isn’t it supposed to?” Her voice sounded wistful.

“Being consumed isn’t always a good thing. People talk about being motivated, about having fire in their belly. Fire can also destroy. After the show and the breakup, I backed away from my art for five years before starting back in a different medium.”

She reached out and touched the panel. “Wood,” she said softly. “Because it’s alive.”

“You remembered.”

She nodded. “Is that why you’re not married? Passion consumes?”

“Uh-huh. I’ve seen the price people pay. My mom lives her life for my dad. My dad lives his life for his art. She swears it’s fine, but I don’t believe her. I don’t want to destroy anyone or be destroyed.”

“What brought you back to being creative?”

“I was drowning without it. I may not always like being an artist, but it’s who I am. I worked in secret. When my father found out, he hounded me to switch back to glass, to work with him. That’s when I left.”

“Wow. All I have in my past is a con man for a grandfather. You’re lucky.”

He laughed. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

“Why not? You are talented and famous and really good-looking.” She stopped talking as color stained her cheeks. “What I mean is...” She looked away.

“Go on.”

She shook her head. “Nope. I’m going to wait for the earth to open up and swallow me. If that doesn’t happen, I’ll just slink away.”

Nick took a step toward her. He had to admit he liked Pallas. She was honest and funny and earnest and easy to talk to. There was also how she looked in that dress. He had a bad feeling he would never quite see her the same way again.

“Don’t slink,” he told her as he moved a little closer. “There’s no need to slink.”

She stared up at him. “Not that you’re not good-looking, but it’s embarrassing to say.”

“Why? I liked it. I think you’re hot, too. Especially in the slutty dress.”