Rainshadow Road (Friday Harbor #2)(19)

“Well, I like tattoos. But to put your fears to rest, Sam doesn’t have any. No piercings either.” As Zoë opened her mouth, Justine added, “And no sideburns.” She made a sound of exasperation. “I’ll get photographic proof.”

“Justine’s right,” Lucy said to Zoë. “I’ve met him, and he is hot.”

Their gazes flew to her.

“You met Sam and you never mentioned it?” Justine asked.

“Well, it was only one time, and it was very brief. I had no idea you knew him.”

“I’ve been friends with Sam forever.”

“Why hasn’t he ever dropped by here?” Zoë asked.

“Sam’s been crazy-busy for a couple of years, ever since he started the vineyard. He’s got a crew, but he does a lot of the work himself.” Justine’s attention returned to Lucy. “Tell me how you met him.”

Lucy set out wineglasses on a sideboard as she replied. “I was out riding my bike, and I sort of … stopped for a minute. We had a quick conversation. It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Justine, why aren’t you going out with him?” Zoë asked.

“I did in middle school, after your family moved to Everett. It was one of those summer flings. Once school started, it sort of evaporated. Sam and I have been friends ever since.” Justine paused. “The thing about Sam is, he’s not a long-term guy. He’s not looking to get serious with anyone. He’s a free spirit. Very upfront about never wanting to get married.” A strategic pause. “Just ask Denise Rausman.”

Lucy recognized the name of a stunning blond television reporter who had recently been voted as Seattle’s Hottest News Babe. “He went out with her?”

“Yes, she has a vacation house near Roche Harbor, and she and Sam had quite a thing going for almost a year. She was wild about him. But she couldn’t get him to commit, and she finally gave up. And then there was Laura Delfrancia.”

“Who’s she?” Zoë asked.

“The head of Pacific Mountain Capital … she invests in all these early-stage companies in hi-tech and clean-energy fields. She’s classy and loaded, and she couldn’t persuade Sam to get serious with her either.”

“It’s hard to imagine that kind of woman chasing after Sam Nolan,” Zoë said. “He had a lot of geekitude to overcome.”

“In defense of geeks,” Justine said, “they’re great in bed. They fantasize a lot, so they’re really creative. And they love to play with gadgets.” As the other two started laughing, Justine handed them glasses of wine. “Here. Whatever else you may say about Sam, he makes fantastic wine.”

“This is one of his?” Lucy asked, swirling the rich garnet vintage in her glass.

“It’s called ‘Keelhaul,’” Justine said. “A Shiraz-Cab.”

Lucy took a sip. The wine was amazingly smooth, the fruit strong but silky, the finish mocha-inflected. “This is good,” she said. “It would be worth going out with him to get bottles of this for free.”

“Did you give Sam your number?” Justine asked.

Lucy shook her head. “Kevin had just dumped me.”

“No problem. I can set you up with Sam now. As long as Zoë has no objections.”

“None,” Zoë said distinctly. “I’m not interested.”

Justine let out an exasperated laugh. “Your loss, Lucy’s gain.”

“I’m not interested either,” Lucy said. “It’s only been two months since my breakup. And the rule is that you have to wait for exactly half the time of the relationship … which for me would be about a year.”

“That’s not the rule,” Justine exclaimed. “You only have to wait one month for each year of the relationship.”

“I think all these rules are ridiculous,” Zoë said. “Lucy, you should let your instincts guide you. You’ll know when you’re ready again.”

“I don’t trust my instincts where men are concerned,” Lucy said. “It’s like this article I read the other day about the decline of the firefly population. One of the reasons they’re disappearing is because of modern artificial lighting. Fireflies can’t find the signals of their mates, because they’re so distracted by porch lights, streetlamps, illuminated sign letters…”

“Poor things,” Zoë said.

“Exactly,” Lucy said. “You think you’ve found the perfect mate and you head for him, blinking as fast as you can, and then you find out he’s a Bic lighter. I just can’t handle that again.”

Justine shook her head slowly as she looked at the two of them. “Life is a banquet, and you are both wandering around with chronic indigestion.”

* * *

After helping the Hoffmans to set up for the reading party, Lucy went up to her room. Sitting cross-legged on the bed with her laptop, she checked her e-mail, and found a message from a former professor and mentor, Dr. Alan Spellman. He had recently been appointed as the arts and industry coordinator at the world-renowned Mitchell Art Center in New York.

Dear Lucy,

Remember the Artist in Residence program I mentioned last time we talked? A full year, all expenses paid, working with artists from all around the world. You would be perfect for it. I believe you have a unique sense of glass as a medium, whereas too many modern artists overlook its illusory possibilities. This grant would give you the freedom to experiment in ways that would be difficult—if not impossible—for you in your current circumstances.