Snowflake Bay Read Online Free PDF

worked so hard to build my business, I really couldn’t imagine just wrapping it up and walking away. But I wasn’t happy. And it had spread to sort of color my entire world.”
    â€œIn a field like yours, you need to be inspired. Hating your work is like poison.”
    She tilted her head and regarded him in a new light. “I guess you would know. You love what you do?”
    He nodded. “I like Portsmouth—it’s got a nice blend of cultures and lifestyles. I understand your point about working for people you don’t much respect, doing the kind of work that isn’t in your chosen wheelhouse. That would definitely zap the joy right out of it for me. Didn’t your celebrity or clout give you some room to take on a few clients whose desires matched yours, in addition to your more upscale, high-powered regulars?”
    She gave him a wry smile then, and her tone was a bit sardonic. “What makes you think my personal vision was less upscale than the work I was already doing?”
    He shrugged easily, but his grin was a bit abashed. “Don’t take that the wrong way. I just figured if doing the kind of work you wanted meant moving back to a small town like Blueberry, then . . .” He let the end of the sentence drift to silence, then grinned. “Yeah, I’ll just leave it there.”
    She smiled with him. “What about you? Is your clientele more Smiths and Johnsons or Kennedys and Bushes?”
    He chuckled. “I’ve worked with a pretty broad range. I like the big, complex designs, and I also like figuring out how to take a small, do-nothing sliver of a backyard and turn it into an oasis of sorts.” He shrugged. “I find inspiration in all of it. I mean, it’s true, I love some of my clients more than others—a lot more in some cases—but that goes with the territory any time you deal directly with the public.”
    She got caught up in all the twinkling emerald green in his eyes, the dazzling white teeth, and found herself looking down again, needing to break the spell he so effortlessly wove. He was so focused on her when he spoke, and it made her feel like they were separate and apart from how the rest of the world was spinning, just the two of them in their own little orbit, leaving everything else to drift away unnoticed. More likely, it’s the effects of the heatstroke you’re experiencing from wearing so many layers .
    â€œIt took a lot of courage to do what you did,” he said.
    She looked up, her fingers once again tangled in her leather coat loops, and met his gaze. His expression was thoughtful now, contemplative. “Courage,” she repeated. “I wish I could claim that. I don’t—it hasn’t felt like that.”
    â€œWhat does it feel like?” And she could swear he was no longer making idle conversation, because the look in his eyes now was intent, as if he were asking her to reveal the secrets of the universe. She would laugh if she thought that were really true. She was the very last person to be turning to for life-altering wisdom.
    â€œThe opposite of courage. Cowardice,” she responded, being as frank as she’d ever been, prompted by the sincere curiosity in his question. More frank, certainly, than she’d been with anyone else. Maybe even herself. “Like I was running away instead of staying and finding a way to bring my personal vision into my work. Do as you said, and figure out a way to take my success and use the power of it to work for the kind of clientele who shared my creative vision.”
    â€œWhy didn’t you?”
    It was a fair question, but rather than making her feel a stab of guilt or inadequacy, the open curiosity still in his eyes made her simply give voice to her reasons, her truth. At least as she saw it. “I didn’t know how.”
    â€œMeaning?”
    She lifted a shoulder. “I wanted to be a successful, big-city designer.