You Say It First. Susan Mallery

      “Damn, you’re impressive.”

      She blinked. That wasn’t exactly the reaction she was expecting. “I did what a million other people do every day.”

      “You did great. So what’s got your mom all in a snit? You got a C. The world shouldn’t end.”

      “She has a lot of rules.”

      His gaze shifted to something beyond her. “Some parents are like that. They want things done their way.”

      “Tell me about it.” Pallas thought of all her attempts to be her own person while still having her mother’s approval. For some reason she couldn’t seem to learn that those two things were mutually exclusive.

      “I was supposed to go work in the bank as soon as I got my degree. Which I did last January. Then Gerald died and left me the business. I’ve been running it ever since. Now my mom has offered me a job and I don’t know what to do.”

      “Why do you want to go work in a bank?”

      “I always have. It’s a family thing. I’ve planned on working at the bank since I was a little girl.”

      “But?”

      She sighed. “Gerald loved this business. He was like a second father to me. I don’t want to let him down.”

      “Plus you love it, too.”

      She was less sure about that. She liked it and the work was always interesting, but was it her passion? “I’m confused.”

      “What did you tell your mom?”

      “That I have weddings booked through September. I’ll decide after that. It’s one of the reasons I want the panels fixed. They’re a big part of the business and if they’re in good shape, that should help attract a buyer.” She shook her head. “Wow, that was a serious amount of information you probably didn’t want. That’ll teach you to ask me anything.”

      “I like knowing more about you.” He tilted his head toward the hallway. “Come on. I want to show you something.”

      They went into the storage area where the panels were hung. He flipped on the overhead lights and motioned for her to step close.

      “Give me your hand,” he commanded.

      The eight-year-old inside of her silently murmured “but then I’ll only have one,” which totally explained why she really wasn’t ready to work anywhere serious like a bank.

      She did as he’d asked. Nick pressed her hand to the panel and placed his on top of hers. The combination of cool, smooth wood and warm male skin was unexpected. And kind of nice. Especially when she felt a little tingle start low in her belly. It had been a long time between tingles.

      “Can you feel it?”

      She had no idea what he was talking about. Him or the wood? Because if he meant the tingles, that was a big ole yes.

      Before she could fake an answer, he moved her hand across the relief. “The work is exquisite. So detailed, so rich. The birds look ready to fly off and the plants should still be growing. This isn’t just a panel or even art. It’s life. Whoever did this was a master artist. They’re something you should treasure. But if things ever really get bad, you can sell them, Pallas. For a lot of money.”

      That got her attention even more than the tingles. “Like how much?”

      “Hundreds of thousands.”

      “Of dollars? Are you kidding me? For these?”

      “Not really an art major, huh?”

      She shook her head. “Okay, then. I have more respect for them now. Not that I can pay you any more than I offered.”

      “I believe you. Don’t worry about it. Just know that they’re here if you need them.” He flashed her a grin. “Like money in the bank.”

      * * *

      ALAN GLARED AT the panel. “I prefer skinny brides who haven’t eaten in three weeks. That sucker was heavy.”

      It had taken Nick, his two brothers, Joseph, Jonathan and Alan to wrestle a single panel onto the supports Nick had put in place. Everyone else had already left but Alan lingered to complain.

      “Is it inappropriate for me to say man up?” Nick asked.

      Alan chuckled. “No. But next time I’m going to be busy and unable to help.”

      “Fair enough. At least we know they’re solid wood.”

      “Was there any doubt?”

      “Not really.”

      Nick walked around the single panel, studying it from all angles. He would take pictures and start his research when he got back to his brother’s place. For now he simply wanted to take in the piece, to get to know it so he could figure out where to begin.

      “Have you done this sort of thing before?” Alan asked. “Restoration work?”

      “No, but I understand the process.”

      “No wonder Pallas got you for cheap. You’re not going to ruin it, are you?”

      Nick looked at the other man. “I give you my word. I know what I’m doing. I’ve worked with wood for a decade now. I’m not going to screw these up.”

      Alan didn’t look convinced. “I guess I don’t have a choice. Pallas trusts you.” His tone indicated that might not be a good thing.

      For reasons he didn’t fully understand, Nick wanted to win the other man over. Maybe because he was someone Pallas trusted.

      “Thanks for your help with the heavy lifting.”

      “You’re welcome. At least I don’t have to go to the gym today.” Alan walked around the panel. “I should check on some of the costumes. They’re getting a little ratty. I don’t suppose you know how to sew?”

      “Not my thing.”

      “Too bad. It’s not mine, either. Pallas has a friend, Violet, who repairs the costumes when they need it. I know it would be better to simply replace them, but there’s the cash flow issue. Keeping this old place going isn’t cheap.”

      Nick would imagine there was a lot of outflow—moneywise. “Moving the panels in place would take time. I wonder why she doesn’t replace them with lightweight frames with paper panels that could be changed out for different types of weddings? That would lessen the manpower needed.”

      “An interesting idea. You should share it with Pallas.”

      “I just might. How long have you known her?”

      “Years. Nine or ten. Ever since she came to work for Gerald.” He smiled. “She was so earnest. He liked that about her. She also worked hard and enjoyed what she did. That can be hard to find.”

      “Do you live in Happily Inc?”

      Alan wrinkled his nose. “God, no. I did for a while, when I moved here.” His expression turned mischievous. “I’ll save you the trouble of the subtle questioning. Yes, I came here for Gerald. He was my mentor and then my lover. We were together five years, and when it ended, we stayed friends. I miss him.”

      “I’m sorry.”

      “Me, too. Dying sucks, or so I’ve been told. Now I live in LA and come out on the occasional weekend to help out Pallas.”

      Nick put the pieces together. “She’s like family.”

      “She is. Gerald and I had Pallas in common, as well. We needed her and she needed us.” He sighed dramatically. “I’ve only met her brother once and he seemed decent enough, but her mother... Have you met Libby?”

      “Not yet.”

      “Brace yourself.