I won’t hear another word.”
“I don’t agree with you, but it’s your life. Let’s drop it.”
“It’s dropped.”
“I promise to mind my own business. Please consider my warning a motherly concern. Susie says I’m a nosey woman.”
The two closed their arms around each other.
Angie desired peace. No man was worth ending their friendship.
As she readied herself for bed, Professor Turner’s face flooded her mind. If he was hitting on her—which he wasn’t—it would be refreshing. She had no idea if she’d even have a marriage when she returned home.
#
James Turner strode to his chest of drawers and picked up an antique picture frame. His hands shook. His mother’s image smiled back at him, but her deeply lined face surfaced difficult memories. She’d endured a great deal to give him his chance as an artist. Growing up, his father insisted that his mother was a flawed woman—weak and inferior.
She was weak. She never stood up to his father. But she was strong when protecting and caring for her son. Wiping the dust off the picture frame, he replaced the photo on his bedroom bookshelf.
Chapter 16
Monday morning, Angie stretched and smiled as she awoke. She leaned up on her elbow and gazed out the window. The deep azure-blue sky touched gently with patches of fluffy white clouds spelled spring. The trees swayed in the breeze and the sun warmed her room. What a glorious day. She gathered up her running clothes and awoke Mister Tubbs. Off they went on their morning routine.
Angie wouldn’t chance another discussion with Vicki. She leaned over close to Mister Tubbs and whispered, “You’re going with me today. I want you to meet the professor. If you like him, I’ll know he’s not the monster Vicki thinks he is. You’re never wrong.”
Mister Tubbs cocked his head and stared into her eyes. He put his left paw on her forearm and gave her his famous fanny wiggle.
“Let’s get going.”
An hour later, Angie tiptoed out of the hotel room, Mister Tubbs safely cradled in his carrier. She hopped into the cab and gave the cabbie the professor’s address. She hadn’t been this nervous since she applied for her first job at the age of sixteen. How ridiculous. She had nothing to fear. But what if he found her talent lacking? She placed her hands on the armrest and focused on the scenery. If she had no real talent, her dream could be put to rest. If she had the gift, perhaps he would help her. In college, she’d dreamed of having her own gallery—selling her watercolors. Was she just kidding herself?
Thirty minutes later, the driver pulled up to the house. Angie hopped out of the cab, dog carrier in hand, eager to start the day. The professor waved to her from his front porch with a broad smile. As she turned with the carrier in hand, his brow furrowed, and his smile vanished.
Surely, he wouldn’t mind if Mister Tubbs was with her.
Professor T glided down the front steps, reaching toward her with his arm raised and his hand open. “Angie, it’s great to have you come today. Give me that dog. Your load’s too heavy for such a beautiful woman.”
Angie’s cheeks warmed. Was he hitting on her?
Lifting her prized pet toward his outstretched hand, she raised the crate and released Mister Tubbs to him.
He took the carrier, holding it at arm’s length. “I’m afraid I have an allergy to dogs and cats. We’ll have to find a safe place for him to stay while you are visiting.”
Mister Tubbs thrashed around inside the cage and fell into a rapid bark. Jostled from the professor’s grasp, he slid back and forth, banging on the sides of the crate.
“Stop! Put him down. I’ll carry him. He’s afraid.”
He obliged her request. “I’m sorry. You can put him on the back porch. It’s shaded and the dog can sleep or watch the birds. We’ll be in the cottage.”
Angie caught her breath. She picked up the carrier and opened the door to check -on Mister Tubbs. “Are you all right?” she
“I don’t agree with you, but it’s your life. Let’s drop it.”
“It’s dropped.”
“I promise to mind my own business. Please consider my warning a motherly concern. Susie says I’m a nosey woman.”
The two closed their arms around each other.
Angie desired peace. No man was worth ending their friendship.
As she readied herself for bed, Professor Turner’s face flooded her mind. If he was hitting on her—which he wasn’t—it would be refreshing. She had no idea if she’d even have a marriage when she returned home.
#
James Turner strode to his chest of drawers and picked up an antique picture frame. His hands shook. His mother’s image smiled back at him, but her deeply lined face surfaced difficult memories. She’d endured a great deal to give him his chance as an artist. Growing up, his father insisted that his mother was a flawed woman—weak and inferior.
She was weak. She never stood up to his father. But she was strong when protecting and caring for her son. Wiping the dust off the picture frame, he replaced the photo on his bedroom bookshelf.
Chapter 16
Monday morning, Angie stretched and smiled as she awoke. She leaned up on her elbow and gazed out the window. The deep azure-blue sky touched gently with patches of fluffy white clouds spelled spring. The trees swayed in the breeze and the sun warmed her room. What a glorious day. She gathered up her running clothes and awoke Mister Tubbs. Off they went on their morning routine.
Angie wouldn’t chance another discussion with Vicki. She leaned over close to Mister Tubbs and whispered, “You’re going with me today. I want you to meet the professor. If you like him, I’ll know he’s not the monster Vicki thinks he is. You’re never wrong.”
Mister Tubbs cocked his head and stared into her eyes. He put his left paw on her forearm and gave her his famous fanny wiggle.
“Let’s get going.”
An hour later, Angie tiptoed out of the hotel room, Mister Tubbs safely cradled in his carrier. She hopped into the cab and gave the cabbie the professor’s address. She hadn’t been this nervous since she applied for her first job at the age of sixteen. How ridiculous. She had nothing to fear. But what if he found her talent lacking? She placed her hands on the armrest and focused on the scenery. If she had no real talent, her dream could be put to rest. If she had the gift, perhaps he would help her. In college, she’d dreamed of having her own gallery—selling her watercolors. Was she just kidding herself?
Thirty minutes later, the driver pulled up to the house. Angie hopped out of the cab, dog carrier in hand, eager to start the day. The professor waved to her from his front porch with a broad smile. As she turned with the carrier in hand, his brow furrowed, and his smile vanished.
Surely, he wouldn’t mind if Mister Tubbs was with her.
Professor T glided down the front steps, reaching toward her with his arm raised and his hand open. “Angie, it’s great to have you come today. Give me that dog. Your load’s too heavy for such a beautiful woman.”
Angie’s cheeks warmed. Was he hitting on her?
Lifting her prized pet toward his outstretched hand, she raised the crate and released Mister Tubbs to him.
He took the carrier, holding it at arm’s length. “I’m afraid I have an allergy to dogs and cats. We’ll have to find a safe place for him to stay while you are visiting.”
Mister Tubbs thrashed around inside the cage and fell into a rapid bark. Jostled from the professor’s grasp, he slid back and forth, banging on the sides of the crate.
“Stop! Put him down. I’ll carry him. He’s afraid.”
He obliged her request. “I’m sorry. You can put him on the back porch. It’s shaded and the dog can sleep or watch the birds. We’ll be in the cottage.”
Angie caught her breath. She picked up the carrier and opened the door to check -on Mister Tubbs. “Are you all right?” she
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