Page 40 of Getting Down to Business

“My ex-wife accused me of not taking an interest in her hobbies. To be honest, I’m not even sure what they were besides spending all my money on shoes and fighting with her mother. But I do understand what she meant, and while this is more than just a hobby to you, I find I’m very interested in it. Mostly because I can tell how much you love it when you talk about it and I want to see why. But I’d also like to have something we could do together. Besides…well…I’m not saying we’re going to do that again, but… I mean…I hope we will…if not, that’s okay.”

“Doug, go cut off a lump of clay and put it on this board.”

“Excellent.”

Doug definitely wasn’t a player. He was a refreshing change from the guys she normally dated. And he wanted to share in her love of art. No one had ever suggested such a thing. She found herself hoping he liked it.

* * * *

An hour later, Doug was filthy. He had clay in his hair as well as on his shoes and—thanks to her pulling him close to kiss him—he had clay down the back of his shirt. But he’d never had more fun than he had while making his little sculpture and laughing with Chanda.

“You’re sure it doesn’t have to look like anything recognizable.”

“I’m sure. It just has to look like what you see it being.”

“I think you hang out with Mac too much. I don’t know what either of you are saying half the time.”

She laughed at his joke and he smiled. He couldn’t remember a time he’d smiled so much that didn’t involve his daughter.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asked casually as he used one of the wooden tools to carve an indentation into his piece of art.

“Tomorrow is Saturday. Don’t you have Lucy?” He’d explained how he only had his daughter one day a week, and how he couldn’t keep her overnight because she didn’t have her own room at his apartment. He didn’t want to hide anything from Chanda. She already knew he was just a regular guy. And for some reason she seemed to like him the way he was. He didn’t get it.

“Yes. I’m thinking it would be nice to take her to the Met. Would you like to go? Maybe you could give us the inside scoop on some of the art.”

“You want me to meet your daughter?”

“Would that be a problem?”

“That’s kind of serious isn’t it? Would I be Aunt Chanda, her father’s friend?”

“No. You would be just Chanda. And you are her father’s friend. But if you want to call yourself my girlfriend, I’d be okay with that too.” Very okay. Though he wouldn’t push for that. He would only hope.

They had a wonderful time at the museum. Lucy was sleeping heavily in his arms as he carried her into Julie’s house that night. Chanda waited with the cab, but that didn’t keep Julie from noticing her.

“Who’s that?”

“Chanda.”

“Chanda?” Julie sniffed and Doug fought the urge to defend his girlfriend. Julie was a miserable person who wanted him to pay for his failure to make her happy. There was no reason to stoop to her level. “She looks like trash.” Or maybe there was.

“She’s a great person, and Lucy loves her.” It was evident by Julie’s reaction that he’d said the wrong thing. He hadn’t said it to antagonize his ex-wife—he did that just by breathing—but because it was true. Chanda was fun and Lucy couldn’t get enough of her.

He should have known Julie was too quiet about the situation. Her normal response was to yell until he apologized. She didn’t do that this time, but he realized it was only because she was too angry to even yell. Instead, she was seething.

The call came the next afternoon around three.

“Doug Phillips. How can I help—” His greeting was cut off by the sound of his daughter’s crying in the background. “Hello? Julie? What’s wrong with Lucy?”

He heard a door close and the crying was now muffled.

“She’s in a timeout because she decided to give herself tattoos today. She said she wanted to be like Chanda.”

This was not good, but not the end of the world.

“Don’t they come off with rubbing alcohol? She’s had them before at your sister’s house.”

“She didn’t use temporary tattoos, Doug. She used permanent markers.”