Page 200 of Secrets Hidden In The Glass

“How was your day? How did things go with Detective Sanchez?”

He shrugged. “Mostly we froze our asses off. Other than that, I can’t say a whole lot.”

She couldn’t deny her relief. Every time Nate explored a new angle to her case, she feared he would come back and confirm his suspicions that her mother was really gone. “I’m sorry.”

He jerked his shoulders again. “It’s par for the course—couple steps forward, a couple steps back. Later this week I’m going to head over to the mainland—see if I can dig up some new leads.”

She stroked her fingers through the hair along the nape of his neck. “I can come if you want—try to help.”

“I love the offer but it looks like you’ve got a lot going on right here.” He touched the textured glass she was presently working with. “Lots of different shades of blue.”

“Mmm. They’re for Molly’s place—our place,” she amended as she smiled. “I want to do a series of pendant lights that have a nautical feel without being overly obvious. I think it’ll make the renovated space fun—modern and a little funky.”

“Who doesn’t like fun and funky?”

“Exactly.”

“Did you get around to making that call to Marion?”

“I did.”

“How’d it go?”

“Really well, actually. We’re doing the show here on November twelfth.”

He raised his brow. “No kidding?”

She nodded. “I thought she was going to fight me on it a bit, but Marion’s smart enough to capitalize on what’s currently going on.”

“And that works for you?”

“It’s win-win. I’m getting what I want; she’s getting what she wants.” She beamed as the rushes of excitement came flooding back. “Gemma put in a call to Leah. They’ve booked the Inn. Gemma said something about small, high-end, and intimate, which is perfect, really. I got a text from Julian while I was still at the airport. The buzz has already begun.”

“The twelfth doesn’t give you much time.”

“Less than two weeks, but I figure I’ve got a good start with the pieces I’ve already made.” She gestured to the vivid scenes she’d created from her dreams. “It’s not my usual style, but Marion loves them because they’re so different.”

He took her hands from around the back his neck and held them in his, pressing a long kiss to her knuckles. “And you feel okay with sharing them?”

“I imagine I should do something with them. They don’t do me a whole lot of good taking up space here in the garage.”

He wandered over to the locket and intricate carpet piece she’d brought to life, his brow furrowing as he stopped in front of the roofline sketch she’d hung on a pegboard but had yet to turn into glass. He clenched his jaw and rubbed at the back of his neck—telltale signs that something was bothering him.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. It’s fine.”

She frowned, walking his way, not entirely convinced by his assurances. She took his hand this time. “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing,” he said as he shook his head. Then he met her gaze as he faced her. “It’s just hard to believe that this stuff comes from what you see in your dreams.”

“I wish I could explain it.” She smiled. “I guess it circles back to that eccentric artist thing.” Her smile faded when he didn’t return hers. “Nate, what’s wrong?”

“You’re happy.”

She nodded. “For once I feel like I’m in control—like I can handle my life again.”

“I can see it in your eyes. When you smile.” His lips curved slightly as he stroked his thumbs along her cheeks. “Your mom said you light up the world when you take a chance. She’s right.”