Runaway Bride Read online

  “Good.” His grin widened. “I don’t want to stand out like a sore thumb. Hold on and I’ll get your door for you.”

  Before she could respond, he turned off the ignition and hopped out of the car. He came around to her side and opened the door, something that struck her as more intimate than she’d expect from a friend. She shook her head. She shouldn’t be reading more into all of this than there was. He was just a nice guy.

  She stepped out of the car and waited for him to close the door before speaking. “Since you’re Chris’ friend, do you see my sister much?”

  “I’ve seen her a couple of times since they renewed their wedding vows. Sometimes I stop by and see how things are going with her pregnancy. They’re already fighting over what to name the girl when she’s born.”

  “What names are they thinking of naming her?”

  “Mia, Natalie, Ava, Madison, or Zoe.”

  “Those are good ones.”

  “Yeah, but I keep hoping they’ll going for Markette.”

  Catching the teasing sparkle in his eye, she laughed and walked with him toward the entrance of the gallery. “That would be a horrible name for a girl, and you know it.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with Markette. Think of how original it’d be. No one else in her class will have the same name.”

  “And for good reason. Come on, Mark. The name is horrible. You can’t condemn the poor girl to it. She’ll be the laughingstock of her class.”

  “Okay. Then she can be called Tannerita.”

  Giggling, she stopped behind the couple in front of them who were collecting a brochure in the doorway. “Please promise me you won’t have anything to do with naming their daughter.” The couple in front of them turned around, and Lexie stopped laughing when she realized who they were. “Doctor and Mrs. Carter. Good evening.”

  Mrs. Carter glanced Lexie and Mark up and down. “Lexie, where is your fiancé?”

  “He couldn’t make it tonight,” she replied, straightening up. “There was an accident. He had to go in for surgery.”

  “That’s a shame.” Dr. Carter frowned. “It’s always a delight to have someone of his intelligence at important events.”

  “Yes. The Morrises will be sorry he missed Monica’s painting,” Mrs. Carter added.

  “He wanted to be here,” Lexie assured them. “He’s sorry he has to miss it, but I’m sure he’ll come by tomorrow to see it.”

  “I’m sure he will.” Dr. Carter glanced at Mark. “Is this your brother?”

  “No. My brother had to work tonight. This is Mark Tanner. He’s a friend,” she quickly added when she saw the way Mrs. Carter’s eyebrows rose. “He’s a friend of my brother-in-law.”

  “Ah,” Dr. Carter replied. “I remember hearing your sister got married again. Nick said it was a quaint little ceremony.”

  “Yes. My sister isn’t the type of person who likes a big fuss. She wanted a quiet, private affair.”

  Dr. Carter and his wife exchanged looks that Lexie couldn’t quite decipher. “As long as they’re happy,” Mrs. Carter began, “then it’s all well and good.”

  “They’re very happy together,” Mark spoke up and shook Dr. Carter’s hand. “We should all be so blessed to enjoy a marriage like the one they have, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Dr. Carter shrugged. “Considering I don’t know the people in question, I’ll take your word for it.”

  “Fair enough.” Mark retrieved two brochures and handed one to Lexie. “So, where is Mrs. Morris’ painting?”

  “That will be uncovered in fifteen minutes.”

  “Yes. That’s mentioned right in the brochure you just received,” Mrs. Carter added.

  “This is an orderly event,” Dr. Carter said.

  “Oh, good.” Mark opened the brochure and breathed a sigh of relief. “They give us a step-by-step account of what we’ll be doing here tonight. I’d hate to figure out what to do on my own. Look, Lexie, we get to sip some wine and eat some cheese in exactly,” he checked his watch, “two minutes.”

  Lexie bit her lower lip so she wouldn’t laugh. Maybe she should have warned Mark that the functions Nick liked going to were very orderly and, for lack of a better term, too formal. Mark didn’t strike her as the type who liked these types of events and to be honest, she couldn’t blame him. There were many other things she’d rather be doing, too.

  Dr. Carter gave a slight shake of his head and turned to Lexie. “Give Nick our regards.”

  Lexie nodded and waited for them to leave before she went with Mark to the side of the large room.

  “I’m sorry, Lexie,” Mark whispered.

  “For what?” she asked, her attention going back to him.

  “I shouldn’t have made the whole ‘two minutes until we get wine and cheese’ comment. It wasn’t right of me to be sarcastic.”

  “Don’t worry about it. They won’t even remember you or what you said tomorrow. They’re pretty much stuck in their own world.”

  “Yeah, but I have to remember that at places like this, the less said, the better.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I thought you were funny.” She gestured to the veiled paintings in the middle of the room. “Let’s see how many paintings are going to be unveiled tonight.” She led him to four paintings which were covered.

  “Do you know what she painted?” he whispered.

  “No. All I know is that Nick said we should tell her that her choice in colors is excellent.”

  “Sounds easy enough.”

  “Lexie, darling, where is Nick?” a woman asked from behind her.

  Lexie and Mark turned around and Lexie offered a polite smile. She recognized the woman, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember which doctor this woman was. “Oh, hi. Nick couldn’t make it tonight. He had to go in for surgery.”

  “What a terrible shame.” The woman rubbed Lexie’s arm in sympathy. “But it’s the price you pay when you’re married to a doctor. Is this your brother?”

  Lexie glanced at Mark. “No. He’s Mark Tanner, a friend.”

  “Really? Do you know Nick?” the woman asked him.

  “No, I don’t. I work with Lexie’s brother-in-law.”

  “I don’t believe Lexie mentioned what her brother-in-law does.”

  “I’m a software engineer at Eglin Air Force Base,” Mark replied, extending his hand toward her.

  She shook his hand. “Doctor Maxwell. I specialize in neurological disorders.”

  “So you’re in charge of figuring out what’s wrong with people?” Mark joked.

  She frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  “I was kidding. You know, because you deal with the brain and disorders.”

  “I happen to take my job very seriously, Mark. Neurological disorders are no laughing matter. We’re talking about people—real people—with problems that are so severe that some of them won’t ever recover from them.”

  Lexie’s eyes grew wide. Now she remembered Doctor Maxwell. Nick had warned her that the woman had no sense of humor and that she must never try to tell her a joke.

  Mark adjusted his tie and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I meant no disrespect.”

  Doctor Maxwell relaxed. “See that you don’t err again.” She turned to Lexie. “My dear, I’m looking forward to attending your wedding. Nick says you’ll have a live orchestra featuring Bach.”

  “Yes, it was my mother’s idea,” Lexie said, relieved the focus was no longer on Mark. “Nick loves Bach.”

  “Nick has excellent taste. Your mother is wise to listen to him. And you are fortunate to be marrying him. He’s the best heart surgeon we have in the hospital.”

  Unsure of how to respond to that, she said, “Thank you.” After the doctor gave her another smile and left, she looked at Mark. “I should have warned you that tonight could be brutal for you, as well as for me,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, she was right. I should be more careful in what I say, especially in a place like this. Why
don’t we take a look at some of the paintings already on display?”

  As she followed him to the nearest wall, she couldn’t help but feel bad for him. She glanced around to make sure no one was within hearing distance and leaned closer to him. “I know you weren’t making fun of people who have neurological problems.”

  He took her hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. “It’s alright, Lexie. I’m fine.” With a smile, he squeezed her hand again and let it go. “Now, what are we supposed to do when we’re looking at this painting? Should we say what we think it is?”

  “Actually, we’re not supposed to do much talking at all. We’re supposed to soak in the emotional experience of looking at the painting.”

  “That’s it?”

  “My mother and Nick had all this material on etiquette for tonight, but it basically boiled down to smile, nod and be quiet.”

  “I should do more quiet. Talking has only been getting me into trouble.”

  “Even when you’re quiet, you have to wonder if someone mistakes your silence for lack of interest. Sometimes you just can’t win.”

  He nodded, and they turned their attention to the different paintings in the gallery.

  Chapter Seven

  Ten minutes later, Lexie was trying to make sense of the painting in front of her. The scattered circles of various sizes formed a larger picture, but she couldn’t tell what the larger picture was supposed to be. She squinted at it and willed the image to come to her. When it didn’t work, she went over to the next painting which was an assortment of colors thrown together. Fortunately, the one further down from that was of a group of people surrounding a lake, so she knew what it was supposed to be.

  “Would you like some wine?” a server asked her.

  Lexie turned to the woman and accepted the glass of red wine. “Thank you.”

  As Mark accepted a glass, the server asked, “Isn’t that a powerful statement the artist is making?”

  Lexie studied the painting with the circles. What was it the server saw that she didn’t? She wanted to ask but was afraid she’d show her ignorance in this area.

  Mark sipped his wine and nodded. “Yes. It’s powerful indeed.”

  “Out of everything in this gallery, this is the only one that speaks of the never ending cycle of raw anger and confusion,” the server whispered with an excited grin. “I just love it. The one down that hall with the black and white motif is also good. You’ll enjoy it when you see it.”

  Lexie looked at Mark.

  After the server left, he softly said, “I thought it was supposed to be an appreciation of geometry.”

  Her lips curled up. “I think it can be whatever we want it to be.”

  “What do you see?”

  “A bunch of circles.” She motioned to the painting with the assortment of colors. “That’s a bunch of colors. And that,” she pointed to the painting of the people and lake, “is a bunch of people relaxing at the lake. Personally, I think that’s the best one here.”

  “Excuse me! May I have everyone’s attention?” a man called out.

  She and Mark walked over to the group that was gathering around the four veiled paintings. They waited for the man who stood by the paintings to speak, and she scanned the three women and one man who were with him. She guessed that one of the women was Mrs. Morris. She hadn’t seen Mrs. Morris before and since Nick wanted her to congratulate Mrs. Morris on the colors in her painting, she had to make sure she approached the right woman. When the man introduced the artists, she saw that Mrs. Morris was an older woman, probably in her late fifties. She seemed pleasant enough. Maybe talking to her wouldn’t be as intimidating as she feared it would be.

  “Welcome to ‘A Walk Through Time’,” the man began. “Tonight we are featuring time period paintings from the best artists in the area.”

  As he continued with his spiel, Lexie sipped her wine and nibbled some cheese and crackers a server handed her. She tried to pay attention to what the man was saying, but he rambled off information about a couple of famous local paintings she didn’t know about and threw out fancy art terms she hadn’t heard either. Taking another sip of her wine, she ventured a look at Mark whose eyes seemed to glaze over. Relieved that she wasn’t the only one who was bored, she pretended to listen to the rest of the speech. At the end, he finally got around to presenting the paintings.

  Curious to see what Mrs. Morris had painted, Lexie stepped to the side so she could see around the person in front of her. The man removed the cloth from Mrs. Morris’ painting. Several people in the crowd gasped in awe and Lexie wondered what they saw that she didn’t. There was a blend of light brown and green colors which surrounded a large white blob with black dots on it.

  “Tamara Morris’ Colosseum embraces the confliction of the Roman Empire when it was at the height of its glory,” the man said and then went on to discuss why the painting was an asset to the gallery.

  Now Lexie understood why Mrs. Morris wasn’t sure about the colors she chose. The colors made no sense to her. She hadn’t even realized the white blob on the canvas was the Colosseum. She got that the green and brown colors were symbolic of the “muddied past of the Roman gladiator games,” as the man put it. But for the life of her, she couldn’t see it. It looked like a mess. She bit her lower lip and ventured a glance at the others who seemed impressed with the painting. What was she thinking in coming here? These people were way out of her league. How could she spend the rest of her life trying to figure out what to say to make Nick look good?

  Mark leaned toward her and whispered, “Does Mrs. Morris know someone who works here?”

  “I think she’s friends with the owner’s wife,” she replied in his ear.

  “Ah, that explains it.”

  By the tone in his voice, she understood that he didn’t like the painting any more than she did. What a relief. Even if everyone thought the painting was good, it was nice to know that one person agreed with her. But that didn’t change the fact that she had to find a way to compliment Mrs. Morris. If she didn’t, Nick wouldn’t be happy.

  When the man encouraged everyone to come up and congratulate the artists, she gripped her purse and tried to think of a way to be honest but nice. She really didn’t want to come out and lie. “I have to talk to her,” she told Mark. “Do you want to come with me?”

  “Sure.”

  Glad she didn’t have to talk to her alone, Lexie guided Mark to the line of people who’d assembled to talk to Mrs. Morris. She listened to what they chose to compliment her on in hopes of getting a good idea of what she might say, but nothing seemed to fit. And before she knew it, they were in front of Mrs. Morris who was grinning from ear to ear.

  “Hi, Mrs. Morris,” Lexie began and extended her hand, “I’m Lexie Rogers. I’m engaged to Doctor Hammond.”

  “Oh yes,” she replied, shaking her hand. “Nick mentioned I’d get a chance to meet you tonight. He’s a hard one to pin down. He wouldn’t marry just anyone. Many women would die to be in your shoes. Not me, of course. I love my husband.”

  “Yes, I hear that many women adore him,” Lexie said.

  “It’s a shame he couldn’t be here tonight. I heard he got called in for surgery.”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “It’s to be expected. He’s the best heart surgeon at the hospital. You don’t trust a serious medical issue to just anyone.”

  “Of course. The patients are fortunate to have him.” If she knew anyone who needed heart surgery, she’d recommend him in a heartbeat. There was no denying his skills. Before Mrs. Morris could ask about Mark, she gestured to him. “Anyway, since Nick couldn’t make it, I brought a friend.”

  “Oh? Are you a friend of Nick’s as well?” Mrs. Morris asked.

  “I’m afraid I haven’t met him yet,” Mark replied as he shook her hand.

  “That’s a shame,” Mrs. Morris said. “He’s like a breath of fresh air. You have to meet him. He’s so intelligent for a man his age. It’s hard to find someon
e like him. My husband says of all the doctors he knows, he’s the one going places.” She patted Mark’s shoulder. “You’ll adore him if you meet him. We all do. So,” she turned her attention back to Lexie, “what do you think of my art?”

  “Oh, well…” So much for the hope that Mrs. Morris would be so absorbed in talking about Nick that she’d forget about the painting. “It’s,” she glanced the painting, “it’s… I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Right. It’s original,” Mark added. “It’s nice to see something in this gallery that is different from the other things that’s already been done.”

  Mrs. Morris’ smile widened. “You know, I was hoping for that. I wanted people to remember it, and I thought if I did something that hasn’t been done, it would be unforgettable.”

  “You succeeded.”

  “Thank you.”

  Lexie silently thanked Mark for coming up with the right words, and better yet, Nick would be glad to hear Mrs. Morris was happy. As the people behind them started talking to Mrs. Morris, Lexie led Mark away from her. “See? You know the right things to say,” she told him.

  “I think that depends on who you talk to. I didn’t do so hot with the Carters or Doctor Maxwell.”

  “Only because they don’t have a sense of humor. Fortunately, Mrs. Morris was nice.” Her cell phone rang. She didn’t have to look at the caller ID to know it was Nick. Of course, he’d be interested in knowing how everything was going. She reached for the phone in her purse. “I better take this. I’ll be back.” Mark nodded, and she headed for a quiet spot in the corner of the room. She put the phone to her ear. “Hi, Nick. How was the surgery?”

  “It went well. The boy will live.”

  “That’s great.”

  “I just told his parents the good news.” After a moment of silence, he continued, “How are things going over there?”

  “Well, I saw Mrs. Morris’ painting, and she seemed pleased with what Mark told her.”

  “Mark?”

  “The friend who’s with me.”

  “Oh. I don’t recall hearing about him before.”