Chapter 10 - The Local Carpenter
A week passed. Julian did not knock on her door. He did not call her burner phone. He simply existed across the street. Clara watched him through the curtains as he struggled to chop firewood, something he had absolutely no idea how to do.
One afternoon, Clara was at the gallery hanging a new exhibition when Mark walked in. Mark was a local carpenter—broad-shouldered, easygoing, with sawdust perpetually in his hair. He had been helping Clara frame her prints and had made his romantic interest mildly apparent.
"Hey, Clara," Mark smiled, leaning against the counter. "I heard you got a new neighbor. Some tech guy from the city playing lumberjack."
"Something like that," Clara mumbled, avoiding his eyes.
"You want to get dinner tonight? There's a new seafood place by the pier."
Before Clara could answer, the bell above the door chimed. Julian walked in. He was holding a broken wooden frame. He stopped dead when he saw Mark leaning closely over Clara's counter.
The air in the room instantly turned to ice. Julian's eyes locked onto Mark, assessing the threat with the same ruthless calculation he used to destroy corporate rivals.
"Can I help you, buddy?" Mark asked, puffing his chest out slightly.
"I'm a customer," Julian said coldly, looking back at Clara. "I bought a piece here last week and the frame snapped. I'd like to pay for a repair."
"Mark handles all the framing," Clara said, her voice tight. "Mark, this is Julian."
Mark extended a hand. Julian looked at it for a long moment before shaking it briefly. "Julian Vance," he said.
May you like
Mark frowned. "Vance? Like the ex-husband you told me about?"
Julian’s jaw clenched so hard Clara thought his teeth might shatter. "Not ex yet," Julian said softly. He placed the frame on the counter and walked out without another word.
