Lana

Keep busy. That was my mantra. Right now, that meant polishing the front windows of the shop.

I pulled out the linen cloths and grabbed the vinegar from under the cash register. I had to get used to Matt being back in LA. It wasn’t like he was traveling for work or on vacation—we lived on opposite sides of the country. Which wasn’t even the biggest obstacle in our relationship. His fame, my not wanting to be out in public with him, him having every woman under sixty-five having a desire to jump him—none of it sang out happily ever after. I should have been stronger and ended whatever there was between us, but he was so hard to resist. Especially when I didn’t want to. Instead I let myself hope that his draw would wane over the next few days.

We’d spoken twice since he’d left yesterday. Once when he landed and another just before I went to bed last night. Apparently, Matt was almost as good at phone sex as he was at the real thing. Almost. I blushed as I came face-to-face with Mr. Butcher.

“Good morning, Lana.” He poked his head around the open door. “It’s going to be a beautiful day. Better get those windows done quickly. You can’t do them in the sun.”

“Oh, now that’s an old wives’ tale,” I replied.

“It’s true,” he insisted. “The heat from the sun warms the window and dries it too fast, which makes streaks.”

“Well I gotta work faster then.”

“I heard your neighbor moved out. Are you very disappointed?” he asked, lingering by the door.

I tried to keep my face still and my smile constant. “We have another renter in on Wednesday, so it’s all good as far as I’m concerned.” I was pretty sure that if anyone in Worthington had caught wind of a romance between Matt and me, I’d have heard about it, but something in the way he asked made me think maybe he suspected.

Mr. Butcher smiled but dropped the subject. “I’m glad to see your property business is booming. What about the jewelry? How’s that going?”

I stopped what I was doing. “Actually, if you have a few minutes, I’d love to get your opinion on a piece I’ve been working on.” I’d been so happy with how the gold cuff had turned out that I was desperate to show it off.

“Of course. I’d be honored. You know what a talent I think you have.”

“And you know I adore your taste and value your eye, Mr. Butcher.”

“It’s in my blood, darling. What can I say?”

From Paris to Poodles, good tailoring to a sunny Maine day, everything Mr. Butcher felt passionate about was in his blood.

“If you’ll excuse me while I just go and wash my hands?” I held up my palms, then turned and headed in back. “Take a seat and I’ll be right out.”

I threw the cloth by the side of the basin and washed my hands before drying them carefully. I hadn’t shown anyone other than Matt the cuff, and I was pretty sure I could have sawed off the end of a baked bean can and Matt would have told me how talented I was.

Mr. Butcher, on the other hand, wouldn’t hold back with his criticism.

I pulled the wooden box from the filing cabinet where I’d been keeping it and headed back out. Mr. Butcher was standing in front of the glass display case that doubled as a counter.

“So, what have you got?” he asked.

I really hoped he’d like it. It was the first piece I’d made since leaving New York, and I hated to think I’d lost any of the skills I’d learned.

I pulled out a black-velvet mat and placed it on the glass, then opened the box containing the cuff.

He gasped. “My dear, it’s magnificent. Did you make this yourself?”

I beamed at him. “Yeah, it’s my first piece since college. Gold-plated platinum.”

“Good grief, Lana. With this sort of talent, you should be in Saks, Barneys and Harrods.”

I shifted from one foot to the other. “I wasn’t planning on selling it in the shop.” Excitement and uneasiness churned in my stomach.

“Well of course not. Do you have other pieces?” He held the cuff up to the light. “It truly is remarkable. Very luxurious—it doesn’t have that homemade feel to it.”

“I think that’s down to the materials.” So many jewelry designers skimped on quality because of costs, but I’d wanted to do this right. “You really like it?”

“I really do.” He placed the bracelet back on the velvet and turned to me. “I’m quite serious when I say that you are very talented. I could make a few calls, or—”

“Thank you. For now, I’m just going to add a section on my website and say I take commissions. I don’t want to get ahead of myself.” It was enough to know that I could make beautiful pieces, and that people I trusted liked them. I’d left my dream of adorning the rich and famous in New York. I had a different life now.

He clasped his hands together. “But, darling, you need to share these with the world, not hide them away.”

I wasn’t hiding, was I? I’d achieved so much in the five years since college. My dreams had just changed.

Mr. Butcher was wrong. “I’m not hiding anything. I just know what I’m capable of handling right now.”

Matt probably agreed with Mr. Butcher. He didn’t understand my desire to stay in Maine.

As much as I enjoyed spending time with Matt, I wasn’t sure I saw him in my future. Maybe because I knew deep down that however much he protected me, if we were going to survive as a couple, the whole world would know who I was—I would never be okay with that kind of exposure and scrutiny.

“Knowing your limits is good, Lana.” Mr. Butcher tilted his head, and the look in his eye made me wonder if he knew about what had happened to me in New York. “But pushing them here and there is even more important. It’s as true in business as it is in love. When you believe in something, sometimes you have to jump and trust the net will appear.”

Why did I get the feeling that Mr. Butcher was trying to deliver a sermon? “It’s scary, jumping without knowing something will catch you. I prefer my feet on the ground.”

“Yes, it is. It requires faith in yourself and the people around you.” He sighed and turned toward the window and the view of the ocean. “I spoke to a journalist just yesterday who I found wandering down on the beach.”

I turned back to the counter and my stomach flipped as I started to put away the cuff. “You did?” Surely a journalist wasn’t looking for Matt? “From the Portland Press Herald?”

“No, it wasn’t anyone from Portland. Someone from out of town, looking for the gossip on Matt Easton.”

I froze, then fumbled with the box in my hand. “Really? What were they asking?”

“Just that he’d heard Matt was staying here. He said he was following up on some photographs.”

I couldn’t look at Mr. Butcher, but I was desperate to know what had been said. Did Mr. Butcher guess it was me in the photos?

“I told him that if we’d had someone as handsome as Matt Easton in town, then I’d be the first to crow about it.” I turned to Mr. Butcher to make sure I hadn’t misheard him. “Outrageous. To think he could turn up in Worthington and we’d just spill our secrets to some stranger.”

A smile twitched at the corners of my mouth.

“We look after our own. You know that.”

I exhaled, relieved. Even if Mr. Butcher did know something about Matt and me, he hadn’t said anything. “Well, Matt’s gone now. Hopefully the journalists are, too.”

“I hope Matt will be back. He was very handsome.”

“Who knows? Anything is possible,” I said.

“That’s the attitude. You need to be open to possibilities, that’s all I’m saying.”

“I thought we were talking about jewelry?”

“We’re talking about your happiness, Lana. Worthington will always be here, but that doesn’t mean the rest of the world isn’t worth exploring. Just be open to everything this wonderful life has to offer you.”

I sighed. He was right. I needed to be brave, deal with things as they came up rather than avoiding things in case they hurt. But it was easier said than done.

“I was thinking that I might get some professional photographs taken of this piece for the website, so I can show what I can do,” I said as I packed up the bracelet. “Then, maybe you could send one to one of your contacts, if you don’t mind.”

Mr. Butcher’s eyes danced. “It would be a complete pleasure.”

“They might hate it, of course.”

“Or it might not be the right time,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s a risk. But it doesn’t hurt to try. To dip your toe in the water.”

“Thank you, Mr. Butcher.”

Instead of terrified, I felt excited about the prospect of someone with real power in the fashion industry seeing one of my designs. Sending a photograph to some stranger on email didn’t require me to leave Maine. And if it led to opportunities that were too overwhelming, I could always say no. I really had nothing to lose and everything to gain.