Free Pieces of the Heart by Karen White Page B

moment.
    Finally she said, “It’s very feminine, isn’t it? It reminds me of a pregnant woman almost. Sort of lush and round and ripe. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
    Drew stared at her in surprise. Lush and round and ripe. Those were the same words that had bounced around his head as he’d been making the chair. He shifted the chair over so that the seat of it was facing Caroline. “Do you want to take it for a trial spin?”
    She gave him a tentative smile before sitting down, placing her hands on the armrests, closing her eyes, and leaning her head back. She was swallowed by the chair like a child in her mother’s arms, and for the second time since he’d known her he saw the wariness leave her face. Once again he was intrigued by this woman and the masks she wore and wondered if getting beneath them would be worth the bruises he’d have to endure.
    She pushed her feet against the porch floor and rocked back and forth a few times before opening her eyes again, and for a moment Drew was broadsided by their gray-green intensity. Until she spoke. “You could make a fortune mass-producing your furniture. I’ve seen only two pieces up close, but if there’s more where this stuff came from, the sky’s the limit.”
    Something deflated inside of him. He’d thought for a moment that she understood that what she was sitting in wasn’t just a piece of furniture. He should have realized that he’d known her long enough to have known better.
    He leaned over her. “Get up. Please,” he added.
    She stood, obviously annoyed. “It’s just silly for you to be selling your furniture piece by piece at Rainy’s when you could be making a lot of money. Trust me—I know a lot about it. I’ve worked for a furniture manufacturer for over ten years. Kobylt Brothers Furniture—maybe you’ve heard of them?”
    Drew lifted the chair and moved it to safety at the other side of the porch. “I’m not interested.”
    “Why not? Your pieces are so unique. I could see an entire line coming from just a few of your designs. It could even be called the Drew . . .” She paused, and he could see she was having trouble coming up with his last name. He didn’t enlighten her.
    Caroline waved her hand through the air. “Well, whatever. It could be a big deal for you.”
    “I don’t want or need a big deal. I’m happy the way things are.” Despite his words, he felt the old spark ignite inside of him. It’s been so long. Pushing the thought away, he moved toward the porch steps. “Just tell your mother I was here and to let me know if she wants more of these chairs.”
    She followed him with a determined gait. “Can I come see your workroom and check out more of your stuff? I’d love to tell my boss—”
    “No.” He cut her off and kept walking.
    She had the decency to stay on the bottom step instead of following him home like a lost puppy. “I just want to come and see what else—”
    He turned abruptly, keeping his anger tightly in check. If there was one thing he had learned from his father it was that the only thing anger ever guaranteed was an awkward apology later. “What part of ‘no’ didn’t you understand? Maybe in Atlanta it’s different, but up here in the mountains it means ‘absolutely, positively no, not ever.’ ” He turned back around and continued walking.
    “Don’t just walk away from me! I’m trying to help you, and you won’t even give me the time of day to listen to a possibly lucrative business arrange—”
    He heard something scrape against wood and then shatter, and for a moment he thought she’d thrown something at him. But when he turned around to look he saw a pot and its bright red geranium splattered on the cement walkway at the bottom of the porch steps, and Caroline was slumped next to it on the bottom step, where she’d apparently fallen and knocked over the pot. One pale arm clung to the railing, preventing her body from joining the unfortunate plant.
    He reached her