LOST AND FOUND HUSBAND Read Free Page B

draped with feminine scarves.
    “You have flair,” he said. “This is like an antique gypsy cart.” Gypsy included, he thought.
    “Oh, thank you. I always thought it would be exciting to be an artist, but I don’t have any talent in that regard. So I try to make up for it by keeping artistic things around me.”
    Did she keep artistic men around her, too? Was that part of her attraction to him? By most creative standards, Eric was on the conservative side. But he still fit the bill, he supposed, with his art-teacher vibe.
    “You could be an interior designer,” he told her.
    “Really? Do you think so? That’s something to consider. I’m torn about what to be when I grow up.” She flashed her twentysomething smile. “If I ever do grow up.”
    “Being grown-up is overrated.” Nonetheless, he was as grownup as it got. “Are you ready to head out?”
    “Sure. Just let me get my wrap.” She removed one of the shawls from the coat rack. They weren’t just for show.
    Before they exited her yard, she led him to the fountain. “Isn’t he adorable? He’s one of the reasons I want to see the Valentine art show. I love angels, and cherubs are my favorite.”
    He studied the statue in question. “People often mix cherubs up with putti. Unless you know the origins of the art, sometimes it can be difficult to tell.”
    She made a face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
    “Putti is plural for putto. They’re childlike male figures, predominantly nude, and sometimes with wings.”
    “So what’s the difference?”
    “Cherubs appear in a religious context and are angels, whereas the genesis of putti is mythical or secular, like Cupid.”
    “So what is Tinkle?”
    “Tinkle?”
    She gestured to the fountain, and he smiled. She’d named the little guy after his antics. “I’d say he’s a putto. They’re prone to naughty deeds.”
    Dana laughed. “And here all this time I thought he was a misbehaving angel.”
    Eric laughed, too. “I’m sure we’ll see plenty of cherubs at the gallery. And putti, too.”
    “It will be fun trying to tell the difference. We can make a guessing game out of it.”
    They walked to his car, and he opened the passenger side and watched her slide onto the seat. She was fluid and graceful, and he was still hoping that he could handle their date.
    He got behind the wheel, and she gave him the address of the gallery. He typed it into the navigation system and drove into the night.
    They barely spoke on the way. Mostly they listened to the female computer voice giving directions.
    Finally Dana said, “I don’t have one of those. I just take the chance of getting lost. Besides, sometimes you end up in interesting places when you go the wrong way.”
    “Do you have a bad sense of direction?”
    “The worst.” She grinned like an imp. “That part of my brain never developed, I guess. But we all have something not quite right about us.”
    His “not quite right” was his attraction to her. She didn’t make sense in his organized world. She was too young, too free, too far from his norm.
    They arrived at their destination, and he drove around to find a parking space.
    “I love this area,” Dana said.
    Eric kept quiet. He used to love it, too. The oceanfront hotel that hosted his wedding was nearby.
    He nabbed a parking spot, and they walked a block or so to the gallery.
    They entered the reception area, where food and drink were being served. But they didn’t make a beeline for the buffet. To do so would have been tacky and insulting to the artist, or, in this case, the group of artists being showcased. Eric did opt for the bar, though. He needed a drink. Dana accepted a glass of wine, as well.
    Together, they wandered around. The Valentine theme played out in different ways. Some pieces were warm and whimsical, others deep and epic. One spicy collection presented a sensual tone, whereas another was tragic.
    The tragic art impacted Eric the most. Love found, love