Beginnings (5 page)

Sean glanced at it again. “Impressive, but small compared to what we would need for most churches.”

A wave of panic pressed from Beth’s chest. “What size do you need?”

Sean removed a slip of paper from his pocket, unfolded it, and handed it over. Beth looked at it, her eyes widening. The dimensions were three times the size of the cardinal piece. She showed the paper to Andrew, sucking in a deep breath of fortification when his eyebrows shot to his hairline.

Andrew whistled through his teeth. “That’s a good-sized piece.”

“Yes, it is,” Sean agreed, “but it’s smaller than some. In one of our churches, we commissioned a stained-glass window that was nine feet wide and twelve feet high.”

Beth had seen projects of that size and had wondered what it would be like to create something of that magnitude. Now the opportunity lay in front of her, if she could only prove her ability.

Sean continued, speaking directly to Andrew. “The windows we’ve commissioned in the past have all been beautiful, but they’ve lacked the three-dimensional effect Beth is capable of creating. That’s why I’m here.” He faced Beth again. “Is it too much of a challenge?”

Before Beth could respond, Andrew cut in. “Beth can do anything she sets her mind to.”

Sean’s mustache wiggled as if he fought laughter, but Beth gave Andrew an appreciative smile. His confidence in her gave her a needed boost. “I’d like to try.”

“Try?” Sean angled his chin to the side, peering at her through narrowed eyes. “And if it doesn’t work?”

Beth squared her shoulders and met his gaze directly. “I wouldn’t expect you to pay for something that doesn’t please you. However, I would like to be fairly certain before I go to the expense of creating a project of the size and weight you’ve indicated that you would be satisfied.”

“And how can we make that happen?” Sean leaned forward, his eyes sparkling.

At closer range, Beth made out a spattering of pale freckles across his nose and cheeks. It gave him a boyish appearance that contrasted with the mustache. How old was he? A few years older than herself—midtwenties probably. She momentarily lost her train of thought. But when his red-gold eyebrows rose, she realized she’d allowed long seconds to slip by without answering. She swallowed and formed a reply.

“Perhaps I could do several preliminary drawings—in color, of course—so you could see what I envision as the final project. If you approve the drawing, I’ll proceed. Then, if for some reason the window is not constructed properly, you would have the option of not purchasing it. I would ask to be compensated for my expenses and time, however. Does that seem fair?”

“All but the compensating for your expenses and time.”

Beth’s scalp prickled. “Oh?”

Sean raised his shoulders and held out his hands. “If you were on our payroll, then yes—we might offer an hourly wage in addition to reimbursement of expenses. But as a commissioned artist, the payment comes with the delivery of a finished, suitable project. Perhaps, eventually, if this business venture proves to be mutually satisfactory, we could consider making you a permanent employee of McCauley Church Construction, but—”

“Let’s stick with commissioned work.” Beth heard Andrew’s sigh and sensed his relief at her resistance to becoming a part of McCauley’s team. She didn’t understand his reason, but she knew she was reluctant to combine forces with anyone. On her own, she could call the shots. Get someone else involved, and she wouldn’t be in control any longer. She wasn’t ready to sign that away, no matter how large the contract.

“That’s fine.” Sean reached into the pocket inside his jacket once more and withdrew a packet of papers. “This is the contract my father drew up in case you were interested. Please look it over, mark any questions you have in the margin, and I’ll be back tomorrow to see what you think.” He stood, his smile building once more. “It’s been very nice meeting you, Miss Quinn and...” He looked at Andrew, snapped his fingers, then added, “Andrew.” His gaze on Beth again, he finished in a warm tone. “I look forward to working with you.”

Beth nodded, the papers as heavy as a sheet of leaded glass in her hands. “Thank you. I’ll ... I’ll give this some thought and prayer.”

“Good. Until tomorrow, then.” Sean buttoned his jacket and headed out the door.

Beth turned from the closed door to look at Andrew. She had considered asking him what he thought, but the glimpse of thunder in his expression sealed off her words.

***

In his car, the engine running and the heater blasting him with cold air, Sean flipped open his cell phone and said, “Dad,” in a clipped tone. Beeping indicated the phone understood the command. He tapped the steering wheel with his fingers, impatience pinching his chest as he waited for the call to be answered.

“How’d it go?”

Sean grimaced at his father’s greeting.
Don’t waste time with pleasantries. Just get straight to the purpose.
He had to admit, finding out the artist Quinn was a young, attractive female had nearly set him off course. It took some effort to put his focus back where it belonged.

“She’s willing to try, but I don’t know. It’s a pretty small studio, and she doesn’t have experience with the heavier glass.”

“Gut reaction, Sean. Could she do it?”

The line crackled, letting Sean know they didn’t have much time before the snowy weather disconnected the service. He answered from his gut. “I think she could.”

“Then follow through on what we planned.”

Sean nodded. “Will do. See you tomorrow evening sometime, hopefully with signed contract in hand.”

The line disconnected, and Sean dropped the phone onto the seat beside him.
Well, Lord, we’ll see what happens from here.
Sean put his car in gear and angled it toward the waiting highway. He’d find a hotel down the road—maybe that one outside of Hillsboro he’d passed on the way—and spend a leisurely day holed up with a television and remote control. By this time tomorrow, he’d be on his way to securing the artist Sean was sure would be a household name in the stained-glass art industry before the year was out.

His mind hop-skipped along a pathway: Her success would mean his success; his success would mean the company’s success; and the company’s success would mean Dad’s approval. Yes, everything would work out perfectly.

FIVE

Andrew went back to grinding the rough edges of the pieces of glass on the worktable, allowing Beth to study the unexpected opportunity provided by the thick contract in her hands. At least, he hoped she was studying—and finding favor with—the unexpected opportunity. By her introspective expression and silent tongue, he surmised she was deep in thought.

He stayed quiet and allowed her to think while he replayed the offer made by McCauley. His heart pounded at twice the beat of the rhythmic
scritch—scritch
of the carborundum stone. If Beth took on the task of designing windows for that company, she’d be busy. Possibly wealthy. And successful.

Very
successful...

He licked his dry lips, considering how her success would become his means of convincing his father a person can support himself with art. Beth couldn’t possibly keep up with her smaller projects and the larger ones for McCauley. She’d need him full-time. Ah, yes. Andrew closed his eyes for a moment, a smile tugging at his lips. His deliverance was near.

Unless, of course, she decided not to do the smaller things at all and just focus on windows for churches. Would she be able to handle that on her own?

“Andrew?”

Beth’s timid query brought him back to reality. The wariness in her blue eyes made his heart thud. “Yes?”

She flapped the contract. “In looking at this, most of the benefits are on the side of McCauley Church Construction. If I follow through on projects, meet their deadlines, and design to their satisfaction, then the benefits flow toward me. There are quite a few ‘ifs,’ especially since I run such a small studio. But”—she tucked her lower lip between her teeth for a moment, her brow pursed in thought—“if I meet this first challenge, if I manage to prove myself, all the plans I have for the studio could come to pass.”

Andrew nodded, setting aside the stone. He spoke slowly. “You know I’ll do whatever I can to help you.”

“Yes, I know. Thank you.”

“So...” Andrew’s mouth went dry again. He swallowed hard. “Do you think you’ll sign it?”

Beth looked at the contract again. “I want to talk to Mom and Henry about it first.”

For a reason he couldn’t explain, Andrew experienced a wash of disappointment.

“But for now”—she hopped off the stool and carried the contract to her coat, tucking it beneath the thick folds of fuzzy fabric—“I need to focus on these suncatchers for my craft booth.”

“I can do this,” Andrew blurted. “Go talk to them now.”

She sent him a funny look. “Henry’s at his shop. It’ll have to wait until suppertime.” A smile crept up her cheeks. “I’ve never known you to be so impatient. What gives?”

Andrew shrugged, forcing aside the eagerness that twisted in his chest. “I guess I just want to see your dreams come true. You’ve earned it.”

Her expression became almost tender as she looked at him, and he felt heat building in the tops of his ears.

“That’s really sweet. Thank you.”

A twinge of guilt struck. His dreams were directly related to her dreams coming true. His wish for her wasn’t exactly without strings attached. But he kept that thought to himself. He nodded to acknowledge her words, then suggested, “Instead of working on these, why don’t you start some drawings and get ideas for the window so you’re ready to knock Sean McCauley off his feet tomorrow?”

Her eyes sparkled as her laughter rang. “Okay. I am itching to draw.” She moved to the storage cabinet with an eager bounce in her step and plucked out a pad of graph paper, drafting tools, and pencils. Back on the stool, she pushed the glass pieces aside to create a drawing space on the worktable and bent over the paper.

Andrew tried to focus on the piece of glass in his hand—he needed to be cautious not to file inside the score line—but it was hard not to watch the lines of graphite creating a geometric pattern on the paper just across the table. It was equally hard to keep his eyes off the artist.

Beth was so cute when deep in concentration. She hunched over the pad of paper, her blond ponytail slipping across her shoulder now and then only to be pushed back with an impatient flick of her wrist. Her thick lashes swept up and down, her gaze zipping from one corner of the drawing to the other. The swish of the pencil across the paper came in short, thoughtful strokes. Her lips sometimes tipped up in satisfaction and other times pursed just before she dropped the pencil and used the rubber eraser with force.

An hour slowly ticked by while Beth sketched and Andrew sanded. Snowflakes ceased their flutter outside the window. Finally, Beth straightened on the stool, put down the pencil, and rubbed the back of her neck with both hands while emitting a low groan.

Andrew set aside the carborundum stone. “All done?”

She grimaced, stretching her arms over her head. “With a very rough draft, yes. I’ll set it aside and look at it later. I need a little distance now.”

Andrew nodded. He understood what she meant. Taking a break from a design allowed the artist to view it with a fresh perspective. He always needed at least three hours between first and second drafts. He jerked his head toward the window. “Snow’s stopped. You could probably make that run to Wichita now.”

Beth swiveled to look at the window, and her face lit. “Oh, good!” Hopping off the stool, she put the drawing pad and pencil in the drawer. Then she headed for the stack of cardboard and Styrofoam sheets they used to cushion the finished projects for travel. “I’ll probably grab a sandwich at home and eat it on the way. Feel free to take your lunch break whenever you like.” The squeak of Styrofoam nearly covered her words. “Do you plan to stick around all afternoon? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Andrew watched as she put a layer of foam over the top of the cardinal scene, hiding it from view. “I’ll stick around. Maybe by the time you get back, I’ll have one of these suncatchers put together.”

She flashed a quick grin over her shoulder. “Only one? I figured a half dozen at least.”

He smiled. These teasing moods of hers were fun. He just was never sure how to tease back. “Well ... we’ll see.”

She laughed lightly as if he’d said something humorous and wrapped the package with wide, clear tape. Standing, she swished her hands together. “Would you mind putting that in the trunk of my car?”

“Sure.” Andrew slipped his coat on, then lifted the scene and followed Beth to her car. Fresh snow clumped on their shoes, and Beth banged her feet on the lower edge of the car door opening before swinging her legs inside the vehicle. He slammed the trunk lid, then gave it a pat. “Have a safe drive.”

Beth peeked out the open door and waved. “Thanks. Enjoy your afternoon.” She yanked the door closed, and the engine revved to life. Andrew remained on the concrete slab by the back door, watching bits of snow fly from her tires as she pulled away. When she turned the corner from the alley, he stepped into the studio and closed the door against the chill.