Loving Again: Book 2 in the Second Chance series (Crimson Romance) by Peggy Bird

breathing return to normal, he lowered her to the floor, still maintaining his hold on her until she was again in control of her rubbery muscles. Even then he didn’t want to let go of her. He kept one arm around her as he rinsed them both off and turned off the water. He pulled a bath sheet off the towel rack and dried first her, then himself off.
    They stepped out of the shower and he wrapped a fresh towel around his middle. As he watched her wrap herself up in the bath sheet, he said, “Whatever happens, I want you to know you can rely on me. Not to make it all go away but to be there when you need me.”
    “You’ve been there for me since the first time I saw you, Sam. I wish I could say I’d returned the favor.”
    • • •
    “Amanda, I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you looking so splendid,” Mr. Todd said as he sat across from her at the dining room table in his floating home at a marina on the Columbia River. The sliding glass door, which framed snow-topped Mt. Hood in the distance, was open slightly to let in a breeze. The river was alive with sailboats and wave-runners jockeying for air and space.
    As Sam had suggested, she’d called Mr. Todd’s office the Monday after their dinner, to discover he’d retired from his law practice but his former secretary gave her his home phone number saying Mr. Todd would be happy to talk to her. With a bribe of dinner, she’d gotten an appointment with him that evening.
    “And the food you brought was delicious.” The white-haired, eighty-ish attorney had finished up a plate of grilled shrimp, sesame noodles, and tossed salad, and his blue eyes were wandering to the plate of brownies on the table in front of him. “I hope my legal advice is up to this standard.”
    “I was surprised when I was told you’d retired,” Amanda said. “I thought you were going to be there until they carried you out on a gurney.”
    “When I realized I enjoyed sitting here watching the river as much as I enjoyed the view from the twenty-first floor, I knew it was time to leave a full-time law practice. But I made a list of a handful of clients I’d be willing to see at home. You were at the head of the list. So, tell me your problem.”
    Amanda summarized her run-in with Eubie Kane and ended by saying, “So, what should I do? Is this even an area of your expertise?”
    “It’s not one I’m familiar with, no. Art law is a specialized field particularly when it comes to issues like copyright.”
    “I’ve never filed a copyright for any of my work.”
    “Even if you haven’t registered it, for both the visual and literary arts, the creator holds the copyright from the moment of creation. There may be subtle differences between literary arts and fine arts and crafts, I don’t know. But I can find out for you.” He took two brownies from the plate, nibbled at one and started to speak again. “And I can also … ” The doorbell interrupted.
    A woman was at the door. “Hi, neighbor,” she said. “I’ve got the olive ciabatta rolls you asked me to pick up for you. And I added an éclair because I know how much you like them.” She handed him a bag, a small white box and a handful of change.
    “Thank you for both, although my doctor wouldn’t approve of the addition.”
    “I’ll never tell, if you won’t.”
    He glanced over his shoulder. “Do you have a minute? I’d like you to meet someone.”
    “I have nothing but time for you.” The woman followed him to the dining room.
    With a sweep of first one hand then the other, he introduced the two women. “Margo Keyes, meet Amanda St. Claire. She’s a glass artist and a client of mine.”
    “For heaven’s sake. I’ve always wanted to meet you, Amanda,” Margo said, “I have a piece of your work — Serenity, it’s called — from LOCAL 14 about four, maybe five, years ago. It’s my favorite piece of art.”
    “Good,” Mr. Todd said. “You’re a fan. Amanda has a problem and you might be able to help