Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 104820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Erin joined her. “I didn’t think there could be a more devoted couple than Mom and Dad, but Arch and Tessa are right up there. He wants to get married as soon as possible, before the paparazzi get wind of the engagement.”
“He’s so proud of her for being in this show, he’s nearly bursting,” Mila said, feeling happy for both of them.
“And she’s already booked for her first gallery show right here in town.” Since Erin was a reporter for the Sea Shell, she always knew what was going on.
“That’s great,” Mila said, delighted that Tessa was getting the recognition she deserved.
“She doesn’t need Arch pushing his fans at her, but it’s kind of adorable.”
They were standing outside the tented area that housed the local artists’ work. People came by in running shorts and yoga outfits, walking dogs on leads, some dressed in business clothes like Mila. They wandered by to browse, chat with the artists, and to buy original artwork. It was exciting. As a Realtor, Mila loved sales. She was still thinking of ways she might help Tessa when Erin nudged her.
“See that guy in front of the booth with the abstract still lifes?”
“Is that what they are?” Mila asked.
She’d stared at the multicolored splashes of paint and wondered. However, she’d already noticed the man in front of the booth. Something about him had drawn her attention when he’d first arrived, though he wasn’t her usual type. She’d always gone for the athletic surfer-dude types, whereas this man was a little on the geeky, intellectual side. He had short brown hair and a moustache, and he wore his casual clothes as though they were unnatural to him. As though he was usually in uniform. She’d bet he was in the military.
“Who is he?” Once more, she was happy to have a journalist for a sister.
Erin dropped her voice to a near whisper, as though the man who’d now moved to look at the next booth might have a superhero’s hearing. “That’s Herschel Greenfield. The astronaut.”
Now Mila looked at the man with even more interest. “The one who almost died?”
Erin nodded. “He nearly drowned at sea when his capsule opened during splashdown in bad weather. The ship almost didn’t get to them in time. He made sure the rest of the crew got out okay, and then he almost didn’t make it. He was a real hero.”
“Definitely a hero,” Mila echoed. Then she added, “That had to be incredibly traumatic.”
She’d suffered her own trauma when that surfing accident had almost killed her. She’d lived to surf again, but her career as a competitive surfer had died. She’d been ranked the number three female surfer in the world, with her sights set on becoming number one.
And then, just like that, it was over.
She’d rebuilt her life and loved selling real estate and, once her body had healed, surfed every chance she got. But part of her would always regret that her shot at the big time had been taken away from her.
Erin said, “I’m supposed to be covering this event, so I’d better go interview some of the artists.”
“Sure. I’ll see you later.”
They were all invited back to the family home for a barbecue later to celebrate Tessa’s show. She saw Mom and Dad chatting with one of the artists. They never missed the plein air competition.
Mila was about to join them when Herschel Greenfield stopped in front of Tessa’s display. Tessa had fallen in love with Carmel-by-the-Sea, and her paintings showed her appreciation of the local scenery and the people. She’d painted the sea in many moods—even one with a dog on the beach in midair, Frisbee just out of reach. And she’d also painted Mila out surfing. Mila hadn’t had any idea she’d inspired Tessa until she saw the painting. The weather had been bad that day and the waves fierce. Tessa had caught the angry sky, the towering waves, and Mila, crouched over her board, blond hair flying behind her in the curl.
She’d thought about buying that one herself—Tessa had caught the excitement she felt in her belly when she was in the zone. But she’d hesitated, wondering if it was too vain to have a picture of herself on her wall. She’d see how she felt if it didn’t sell during the show. Even better, maybe a few carefully dropped hints would encourage someone in her family to buy it for her as a gift. She couldn’t be called vain if she displayed a birthday or Christmas gift, could she?
She’d imagined that Herschel Greenfield would move on after checking out Tessa’s wall of art, but instead, he moved closer to the painting of Mila. He stood there for so long that other art lovers had to move around him, like waves around an island.
Even though Mila wore a wetsuit surfing, it seemed like he was checking her out. Her temper flared, and she decided to let the astronaut know that she was no centerfold.