“And probably judgmental,” Nash commented. “Narrow-minded people usually are.”
“There are always two sides to every story, so I don’t want to judge him without even meeting him. But from what Dorie has told me, both are true.”
Nash leaned against the porch wall. “Do you know her well?”
“Not extremely well. She and I had a long conversation before I took Danny on. And we usually talk a little bit every time she picks him up. But today she must have been in an exceptional hurry. She seems to be a caring and attentive mom. She listens and he’s completely relaxed when he’s around her.”
“And he probably wouldn’t be that way with his dad,” Nash guessed.
“Probably not. His dad wanted Danny to play football. That’s not in the cards. I get the feeling that their differing views on raising children is one of the reasons the two of them broke up.”
After another swallow of coffee, Nash said, “For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing the right thing building up his confidence. If he has confidence about his art, he’ll have confidence in other areas.”
Again, she was struck by his keen insight. She looked at him more closely. His hair was thick and a bit ruffled as if he’d run his fingers through it. He was a handsome man, that was for sure. “How did you get so wise?”
“The school of hard knocks.”
She was thinking maybe Nash had had some counseling, but he’d just disabused her of that notion. Experience must have taught him everything he’d learned. She was eager to know what those experiences had been.
“Danny seems to be relaxed with you,” Nash pointed out. “He wouldn’t be able to concentrate on his painting if he wasn’t. But then, I think anybody could be relaxed with you.”
That compliment took Cassie by surprise. Truth be told, she wasn’t used to receiving compliments from men. She’d dated back in Bryan before she’d decided to move her life to Austin. But once Cody Sinclair had found out her mother was in jail, he was out the door. Either his moral sensibilities had been offended or the idea of having a girlfriend whose mother was a felon was just too embarrassing or abhorrent. Cassie had known better than to get involved with anyone romantically after that if she didn’t want a broken heart. Apparently romance just wasn’t in the cards for her.
“How can you judge how relaxed people are with me?” she asked him. “You’ve only seen me with the Warners, Lydia and Danny.”
“I had a talk with your neighbor yesterday when I came home. She was sitting on her porch and she waved and said hello.”
“Mrs. Garcia is lonely,” Cassie explained. “She’s a widow.”
“She said you spend time with her.” His voice had gone gentle as if he appreciated that fact about her.
“I do. She’s a lovely woman and has some great stories to tell. I think she’s trying to keep her memories alive. She says when you reach a certain age, all of your memories tend to blur together. I enjoy spending time with her.” Since her own mother wasn’t in her life now—her mother’s choosing, not hers—Renata Garcia helped fill a hole in her heart.
“She told me that you’d lost both your parents. I’m sorry to hear that.”
Cassie was dumbfounded for a moment but maybe not entirely surprised that Renata had told Nash. Most of her neighbors and coworkers thought that was what had happened to her parents. The problem was—it was a lie. Somehow, making up a story for other people hadn’t seemed so bad. She’d done it to protect herself and her mother and her business at the Bluebonnet. She’d seen everyone’s reaction to Carol Calloway’s arrest, trial and imprisonment. She’d learned it was better to propagate a myth and she’d had to do that to start over.
But Cassie felt terrible about lying to Nash. Still, hadn’t her experience told her that was the best thing to do?
She decided it would be better to lead the subject away from herself. Since Nash did look tired, she asked, “How was your day?”
“Long,” he answered with half a smile.
“Did you meet with potential clients? Did you sign any?”
Nash’s brown eyes seemed to darken. His mouth turned down as if he was chagrined at her question.
She hurried to say, “I didn’t mean to pry.”
After a moment he explained, “Sometimes I learn information about my clients that I’d rather not know.”
“I imagine a financial advisor’s relationship with clients is somewhat like a lawyer’s.”
“I suppose they could be compared,” Nash said politely, maybe a little coolly as if he didn’t intend to talk about it anymore. He straightened, lifted his coffee mug to his lips and drained it. “Good coffee,” he said. “I’ll just set this in the sink.”
“Will you be eating supper with us tonight?”
“No, I had a big lunch.”
“There are sandwich fixings in the refrigerator if you find you want something later. Tomorrow night I’ll be making a very early supper here. It’s Paint and Sip night at the Mendoza Winery. If you want to get to know more about Austin, you could stop in. It’s usually a friendly crowd.”
“You’ve done this there before?”
“Two months ago. It went over really well, so we planned another one.”
“I’ll definitely consider it,” he told her. “You have a good night.”
Cassie followed him into the guest area and watched him put the mug in the sink. Then he picked up his jacket from the back of a chair and headed upstairs without looking back.
Maybe she’d been all wrong about an attraction between them. Maybe only she was the one who felt the attraction. Maybe she’d poked and prodded too much. Whatever the reason, she felt a bit rebuffed. She’d just keep her distance from Nash Tremont, and the attraction would go away on its own.
* * *
If Cassie had the opportunity and the funds, she’d eat at La Viña, the Mendoza Winery’s restaurant, as often as she could. She liked the atmosphere there. The interior had a lot of large windows that during the day provided an extensive view of the vineyard. At night, floodlights showed off the grounds. The ceiling was oak-paneled and rounded to reflect the shape of the inside of a wine barrel.
The restaurant had been rearranged for the Paint and Sip party. Easels were set up along two sides of the restaurant. Patrons could pay the entire fee and actually paint a canvas with Cassie, or they could opt for a lesser fee that would cover only hors d’oeuvres and wine. That way friends who didn’t want to paint could come along with friends who did. There were always a lot of watchers.
Carlo Mendoza had greeted Cassie and made sure she had everything she needed. His fiancée, Schuyler, acted as a hostess of sorts. Already this evening, Cassie had taken her students through a step-by-step process. They could wander around and study her painting. They could listen
