Midlife Valentine: A Later in Life Single Mom Romance

But I wanted more than parenting lessons from her, so after I got Keri fed and ready for school, I made the short walk to Valona’s photo studio to discuss my terms.

When I arrived at the studio, she was with a customer so I waited patiently, took my time to look at the increasing number of photos that dotted the walls in the front of the studio. Valona was a talented photographer sure, but there was something her photos lacked. It wasn’t the mechanics, she knew her lighting and composition, and she knew how to manipulate the equipment and the background to produce different perspectives. It was just as she’d guessed, she needed to find her passion. She needed to dig deeper and find what types of images captured her attention, fueled her need to document it for the future.

As her muse maybe I could help her with that, but I also had something else in mind.

After Valona finished with her clients, she greeted me with a genuine smile of her own. “Trey. Here to talk business, or get your photo taken?”

I stood and bridged the gap between us. “Both. Maybe.”

She nodded and I followed her back into the studio where I took a seat on the black stool planted in the middle of the stark white background. “I’m listening,” she fidgeted with her camera before she started to take a series of test shots, smiling each time she looked down at the preview screen. “I’m starting to see why you were so successful as a model,” she muttered more to herself than to me. “Incredibly photogenic.”

I smiled at the unintentional compliment. “Thanks. I wasn’t always.” She glanced up, her face the definition of skepticism. “I wasn’t. When I started out all I had going for me was a youthful look, sharp jaw and chiseled cheekbones. I couldn’t find the light to save my life, and I had no clue how to move my body. But I took a few classes on photography and lighting in my spare time, took a few dance lessons and learned editing so I could figure out what they were getting rid of in my photos. It helped. A lot.”

“Dance?”

I nodded. “At sixteen I was pretty much just a lanky kid with no grace. Dancing helped me find my angles and taught me how to pose better.”

Valona stopped snapping photos and looked at me as if she were seeing me for the first time. “Wow. I never would have thought of that.”

I shrugged off her words and the awe in them. “It was the best paying job I could have ever hoped to get, and I wanted to be good at it.”

“And you were. I looked you up. Gucci. Armani. Guess. Runways in Paris, Milan, New York, and Tokyo. You did everything from eyeglasses to underwear.”

“So you have been spying on me?”

The small tinkle of laughter that spilled out of her pulled an answering smile from me. “Let’s call it research.”

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

“No,” she said on a disappointed sigh as her shoulders fell. “I was hoping to find some deviant behavior, a string of broken hearts. Anything to tamp down your likability.”

“So I’m too likable?” That sounded like an excuse if I ever heard one. “All right Valona, have it your way.” I slid off the stool and shoved my hands in my pockets.

“Does that mean you don’t want to be my muse?”

“I would have done it for free, as a favor for a friend, but you don’t want that. Since you insist on a trade deal, I want something other than parenting hacks.”

Her smile faded, because of course she would think that I would try to get an easy lay out of the trade; she obviously thought the worst of me. And worse, she was determined to maintain that line of thinking.

“I want to work here, with you Valona. I’ll be your assistant, lugging equipment to location shoots, booking appointments, act as your subject when necessary, and I can even do some basic edits if you need me to.” It wasn’t the most glamorous job in the world, but she needed the help and I needed something to fill my days.

She blinked, her green eyes filled with confusion as she stared at me. “I don’t understand, why would you want to do that? I’m sure you could work alongside any photographer you chose.”

“Maybe I could, but they aren’t here in Carson Creek are they?” She was still unconvinced. “I don’t need the money, but I do need something to do each day. I can’t let Keri think it’s all right to just sit around and do nothing.”

I knew I’d misspoken when she folded her arms and her eyes narrowed to slits. “You mean nothing like cook and clean and take care of the home?”