Flirting With Disaster. Sherryl Woods

to-do about it now, Mother.”

      Juliette regarded her with a familiar expression of dismay. “Sometimes I just don’t know what to make of you.”

      Maggie bit back a grin. “Now there’s a news flash,” she muttered under her breath.

      Her mother frowned. “What did you say?”

      “Nothing important,” Maggie said. “I should run along now. I know you need to get to your appointment and I have to go to the gallery and check on things there. I just wanted you to know I was back.”

      Her mother glanced at her watch, obviously torn. “I do need to go, but we really must talk soon, Magnolia.”

      “About?”

      “This fiasco with Warren.”

      “The fiasco with Warren is over. It’s not open for discussion.”

      “But I’m sure you could mend fences if you put your mind to it,” Juliette persisted. “He’s a reasonable man. I’m sure he’ll forgive you for whatever you did to upset him.”

      “He’ll forgive me?” Maggie said incredulously. “Are you kidding, Mother? I didn’t do anything. He’s the one who called off the wedding. If there’s any groveling to be done, let Warren do it.”

      “There it is again,” her mother said accusingly. “That stubborn streak of yours. It’s always been your downfall, Magnolia. If you don’t reconcile with Warren, what will you do?”

      “I’ll survive, Mother. In fact, I’ve already gotten involved in an exciting new project that will take up a lot of my time for the rest of the summer. I’ll tell you about it next time I see you. Now, we both really need to get moving.” She leaned down for another quick kiss. “Love you.”

      Duty done, Maggie was out the door and down the stairs at a clip an Olympic runner would envy. With her visit to Juliette behind her, life already looked brighter.

      Maggie’s improved mood lasted only until she walked into Images and took a good look around at the displays that had been created in her absence. They were chaotic. Of course, she had no one to blame but herself. She was the one who’d gone off and left the decision making to her employees. She could hardly expect a twenty-one-year-old who dressed all in black and had pink streaks in her hair, or an art-school dropout whose mind tended to wander when she wasn’t in front of a canvas, to arrange the gallery with the same expertise and attention to detail that Maggie would. She was probably fortunate that they’d even bothered to uncrate the new shipments and price them.

      “You’re back!” Victoria exclaimed when she stirred from reading her book. Judging from the cover, it was something dark and depressing, suitable for a woman in black.

      “Indeed, I am,” Maggie said. “I see the new shipments came in.”

      “Last week,” Victoria acknowledged. “I didn’t want to touch them, but Ellie said we probably should. The gallery was starting to look kinda empty, like we were going out of business or something.”

      “Ellie was exactly right,” Maggie said. “Is there coffee made?”

      Victoria stared at her blankly. “Coffee?”

      “Yes, coffee. We make it every day in case a customer would like a cup.”

      “Oh, I thought it was just for you, and since I didn’t know you were coming back today, I didn’t make any.”

      “Never mind. I’ll make it, and as soon as I have a cup you can tell me what business has been like while I’ve been gone.”

      “Actually, you’ll need to ask Ellie. I have an appointment at eleven, so she’s coming in early. Since you’re here, I’ll go now so I won’t be late.”

      Maggie had always given her employees a lot of flexibility in scheduling, but usually she expected them to work longer than an hour before taking off. “When will you be back?”

      Victoria shrugged as if the concept of time was of little importance. “How should I know? It depends on how long Drake can get away.”

      “Drake?”

      “My boyfriend,” Victoria explained impatiently as if Maggie should know that.

      Maggie searched her memory. “I thought your boyfriend was named Lyle.”

      “He split, like, three weeks ago, so now I’m seeing Drake.”

      “In the middle of a workday?” Maggie said, subtly trying to suggest that there was something inappropriate about that. The notion apparently was utterly foreign to Victoria.

      “It’s when he’s free,” she said reasonably. “After work, he has to go home to his wife.”

      Maggie stared after Victoria as she fled to keep her “appointment” with her new, married boyfriend. And Juliette thought Maggie made bad choices. Her mother should spend an hour or two with Victoria. Maggie would begin to seem downright traditional after that.

      A few minutes later, as Maggie was sipping gratefully on her first cup of very strong coffee, Ellie came in. In comparison to Victoria, she looked thoroughly professional in her tan slacks and white blouse. Her hair might be short and carelessly styled, but it was a perfectly normal shade of golden blond.

      “Where’s Victoria?” Ellie asked, obviously startled to find Maggie behind her desk. “You didn’t fire her, did you?”

      “No, though the thought has crossed my mind. She went to see Drake.”

      Ellie grimaced. “Can you believe it? She’s dating a married man. And he must be having some kind of midlife crisis or something. Why else would he pick somebody as flighty as Victoria? He’s old. He must be thirty-five, at least.”

      Maggie herself had issues with men that age. Warren was thirty-five. “Maybe you could sit here and tell me what’s been going on. Has business been good?”

      Ellie looked vaguely disconcerted by the question. “I guess,” she said eventually. “The deposit slips are all in your desk.”

      Maggie sighed. She should have known better than to expect any kind of overview of the gallery’s business the past month from either Victoria or Ellie. She was lucky they’d managed to keep the place from burning to the ground in her absence.

      Ironically, the customers loved them. The two young women, with their off-beat quirkiness, seemed to fit the artistic stereotype people anticipated when shopping in a gallery. Her own contribution, she supposed, was class, necessary to assure the customers that the works and antiques on display were genuine and worth every penny of their exorbitant price tags.

      “Thanks for looking after things,” Maggie said, meaning it. “I really appreciate the way you pitched in.”

      “Sure. No problem. You know me. I can always use the extra cash.” Ellie’s expression brightened. “But I did sell two of my paintings while you were gone.”

      Maggie beamed at her. What Ellie lacked in business skills, she more than made up for as an artist. “Congratulations! I told you it was only a matter of time. I think we should talk about having a real show one of these days. You’re ready for it, don’t you think?”

      Ellie’s joy faltered. “Maybe you should come by the studio and take a look before you decide,” she suggested worriedly. “Maybe there aren’t enough good paintings yet. I don’t want you to be embarrassed.”

      “You could never embarrass me. You’re the most talented artist I’ve discovered yet,” Maggie assured her with total sincerity. “I can’t wait to really give your work a big splashy show. Why don’t I come by one evening after we close and take a look. Then we can decide. I’d love to schedule something for this fall.”

      “Really?” Ellie said, her eyes shining.

      “Sweetie, you’re going to be showing