Checked Impressions, page 1
Praise for Carolyn Miller
“I am emerging out of my book hangover after reading Checked Impressions by Carolyn Miller….The romance, humor and themes of identity are so enjoyable and make for a great read!” - BECKY’S BOOKSHELVES
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“A fun sports-themed contemporary romance, this makes for a great, quick read…perfect for those days that you want a story about trust and love and navigating the ups and downs of being with that special someone.” ~ GOODREADS review
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“Carolyn Miller’s ability to pull you into a story is outstanding! …Love on Ice is a brilliant story of romance, exhilarating sporting excitement and devastating disappointment of hurdles to be overcome… I never thought I would give 5 stars to a book about ice hockey and speed skating!” ~ KAYE’S REVIEWS & NEWS
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“Adrenaline, chemistry, romance, and lots of wooing!…You do not have to be a fan of sports or even knowledgeable in hockey and short track to appreciate Love on Ice.” ~ GOODREADS review
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“Carolyn Miller scores another win with Love on Ice, the second book in her Original Six Hockey series. I absolutely loved the faith thread in this story. It’s message that success does not lie on what we do, but who we are is powerful.” ~ GOODREADS review
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“The Breakup Project is a fun, charming, and faith-filled contemporary romance with adorable characters set in the competitive North American ice hockey world. Highly recommended.” ~ NARELLE ATKINS, Author of Solo Tu & Her Tycoon Hero
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“Displaying a flair for comedy and witty dialog, Miller is clearly an author to watch…with clever, snappy repartee, creating an exciting and fast-paced read." ~ LIBRARY JOURNAL
Checked Impressions
Carolyn Miller
Visit Carolyn Miller at www.carolynmillerauthor.com
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Copyright © 2022 by Carolyn Miller
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations or locales are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used fictitiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover design by KT Design
Edited by Katie Donovan
Bible references are from the New International Version.
Also by Carolyn Miller
The Original Six hockey series
The Breakup Project
Love on Ice
Checked Impressions
Hearts and Goals
Big Apple Atonement
Muskoka Blue
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The Independence Islands series
Restoring Fairhaven
Regaining Mercy
Reclaiming Hope
Rebuilding Hearts
Refining Josie
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Regency Brides and the Regency Wallflowers series
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
A Note from the Author
Hearts and Goals
About the Author
Also by Carolyn Miller
Chapter 1
Chicago
August
“And now, may I draw your attention to what I consider the room’s finest work if you, like me, are someone who appreciates that first impressions need not last forever.”
Allison Davis smiled at her silly pun and moved to the opposite wall, the museum’s visitors shifting their stance to follow like sunflowers following the light. Sure, some might prefer Monet and his haystacks or waterlilies or Renoir and his ballerinas, but Georges Seurat’s A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte was one of her very favorite pieces in all of the Institute’s hundreds of thousands of artworks. Something about the light and optical effects called to her, inspiring her with her own work.
“At first glance it may seem easy to dismiss this painting as simply a collection of tiny dots. But this is one of the most iconic paintings of the Post-Impressionism period and demonstrates pointillism at its best. Here we see many figures that represent different walks of life as they gather on the banks of the Seine river on a Sunday afternoon. The use of color makes the artwork seem very alive, yet there is a stillness, with everyone bar a handful of figures facing the Seine on the left. There are things to ponder here: Why is the boater seated on the left so much larger compared to the couple sitting next to him? Why is the girl in white facing the viewer? And why did Seurat paint this?”
She watched as the museum’s visitors paused, their faces melding into expressions of what she hoped was interest and not simply a desire to know how many more minutes remained of her tour on this sticky, stifling late-August day.
“Pointillism is a technique of painting in tiny dots, often in complementary colors. Avant-garde artists in the late nineteenth century would consider complementary colors of the color wheel and how to use them to create effect. Complementary colors include yellow and purple, blue and orange, and red and green. When placed next to each other, they have a flickering quality, the pigments almost having a shimmer to them. Pointillism was a completely different approach to painting.”
She talked more about the significance of the shadows, Seurat’s process, and related works by Seurat, including how this piece perfectly complemented his previous painting, Bathers at Asnières, which hung in the National Gallery of London. “Because of Seurat’s technique and subject matter, this is one of those paintings that we can return to again and again and not grow tired, because there is always something else to find that is unusual, that makes you think differently about what you thought you knew. To my mind, this is the sign of a great painting, and it’s one of the reasons I love the Impressionist movement so much.”
She turned to the small group of art enthusiasts signed up for this free tour. “And that concludes our tour of the highlights of the Art Institute. I trust you have enjoyed our time today and will take the opportunity to visit the other galleries, filled with many other treasures. I’m happy to answer any questions you may have, but once again, thank you for your visit, and we hope you will enjoy your time in the Windy City.”
No questions—save for directions to the nearest restrooms—and after a couple of murmured thanks, she was released to slowly wander back to the staffroom. Some days she still pinched herself to think she got to work here. She truly had one of the best jobs in the world.
She paused to look at Renoir’s dancers, taking a moment to let the colors and shapes infuse her senses, then, conscious that Dave, the security guard, was looking at her with his usual tilted-head expression of concern, she smiled and moved on. How people could not stop and linger at every painting amazed her, and while most people who worked here were art enthusiasts, some, she knew, viewed this as merely a way to make a living.
Wryness tweaked her lips. Few artists made much of a living from their work, as she well knew. Oh, to be successful…
She pushed open the staffroom door and was greeted by the scent of stale coffee and perspiration.
Selina Wemble looked up and waved her hands in a fanning motion. “It’s so hot today.”
Allie nodded, swiping a curling strand of damp dark-blonde hair behind her ears. Selina had always made her tongue-tied, ever since that first encounter years ago when the polished, pretty art student had met her as they waited for a job interview, casting a look over Allie’s Target ensemble with a raised brow and curled lip. Of course, Allie’s lack of chattiness hadn’t helped matters either and had possibly been construed as unfriendly. In reality, it stemmed more from a case of literally not having the words to say. Allie’s lips curved to one side. It seemed some first impressions could last.
She moved to the fridge to collect her now-chilled eco-bottle of water, briefly resting it against her forehead. These late-summer days in Chicago often reached a point of heated heaviness that even the building’s stone walls did little to alleviate. Thank goodness her two shifts of tour guiding were done for the day and she could now relax into the administrivia of her role as part of the Public Relations and Learning team. She pitied whoever had to run the kids’ tour this afternoon with the intern. Given this late stage of school vacation, that was bound to be lots of fun.
“How was the highlights tour?” Selina asked.
“G-good.”
Selina glanced at her and shrugged. Surely she was used to Allie’s lack of detailed replies by now. “Did you see the roster changes?”
“No.”
Trepidation slowed Allie’s progress to the whiteboard, where a glance at the new roster evoked an inward groan. Kids’ talk. Again. On hot days like today, the air-conditioned Art Institute was a favorite place to take kids who were really ready to finish vacation and go back to school. She loved kids, and as the favorite aunt to two nephews, kids seemed to like her in return, but seriously. Again? A protest formed in her brain, then faltered. Was there any point in complaint? She released a sigh instead.
“Hey, it’ll be better than last time, I’m sure.”
Allie hitched an eyebrow. If Selina was so sure, then why hadn’t she volunteered?
“Don’t look at me like that. I would’ve done it, but I’m working on the wording for the new promotion, and—”
Allie’s chest grew tight, thumping sense from the rest of the words. That was supposed to be hers! Myra Fordley had as good as promised that promotion to her. “Since when?” she said carefully.
“Oh.” Selina’s face instantly melded into contrition. “Myra just wanted someone who could articulate things very quickly, and, well, we all know that’s not exactly your forte, so I volunteered.”
Volunteered? Or snatched it from her? She didn’t buy Selina’s innocent act for a second.
She glanced at Myra’s office door. Shut. Which meant she was either busy or not in.
“Myra’s out, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
As per Myra’s usual policy on sticky summer days, when she managed to either be elsewhere or what she liked to call “developing strategic partnerships with other museums,” which Allie strongly suspected was code for visiting the nearby Holborne Museum—more specifically, its director of programming, Neil Blanchard.
Tension gnarled knots in her stomach. Her scruples protested Myra’s frequent visits to a very married man and made her vacillate between wanting to tell Neil’s wife and praying that God would reveal it another way. As he wasn’t on staff here, it wasn’t something that broke protocol as far as the museum’s policies, but the morality of it had sunk her opinion of Myra very low. And the knowledge that Myra knew that Allie knew, due to an unintended and most unfortunate glimpse of their encounter in a supplies closet, and that Myra was so far unwilling to say anything, had led to a strange standoff between them in which Allie was reluctant to make the first move. This news was just the latest in a series of events that showed the power games some people liked to play. Selina had learned from the best.
“Look, I’m sorry, Allie. I did try to tell her you were the best for the job—”
Sure she had.
“—but I’m afraid it can’t be changed now. And those kids will be here soon, and Taylah really needs someone to keep her in line so she doesn’t spend the whole time on her phone.”
Anger rose in Allie’s chest. Taylah, the summer intern who had impressed Myra so much in the interview, then done virtually nothing since. Allie couldn’t help but be glad that Taylah’s time with them was nearing its close and she wouldn’t have to work with her again.
“And it makes sense that the person with the most patience is the one who deals with the kids now,” Selina continued.
And the one least likely to complain.
“I’m sorry, Allie.” Selina shrugged. “I wish I could help.”
Swap then, Allie longed to say. But the words stayed stubbornly locked inside, refusing to spill from her mouth.
The phone rang, and Selina snatched it up. “Hello, Public Relations and Learning, this is Selina speaking.”
The door opened, and Taylah entered in her usual sliding manner that denoted the level of enthusiasm she seemed to hold for her role, the bouncy gait of those first few days most definitely gone. No point trying to impress Myra now.
Taylah glanced at the whiteboard and made a face. “Kids? Again?”
Looked like Allie would have to dredge up enthusiasm for the two of them. She forced a smile. “I’m sure it will go really well.”
There. Why could she talk so smoothly in moments when it didn’t matter, but other times she might as well have her piano on her chest?
“At least it’s with you,” Taylah muttered, casting a glance at Selina, who was still talking animatedly on the phone, waving a hand and flashing a grin like she was a celebrity filmed for a TV telethon event. “I think Selina thinks I’m an idiot.”
Selina likely thought the same about Allie. Shaking off the thought, she motioned to the cupboard where the kids’ activities were stored. “We’d better go and get things set up.”
“It’s still half an hour until we’re due to start.”
“By now you know what some parents are like—that they like to get there early.”
“Yeah. They’re happy for some free babysitting.”
Which Allie didn’t mind—not if it meant their children were being encouraged to explore their God-given creativity and dream larger than their immediate worlds. Unless, of course, their kids were bratty. Then it was a problem when the parents weren’t there.
She moved to the cupboard and began withdrawing the papers she’d printed off last week along with the stencils and pencils in their respective baskets. Best not to think about the injustices but on the positives. She was blessed with this job. Blessed to work so close to home. Blessed with family, friends, and a great church nearby.
Allie pushed her hair behind her ears, slid her glasses up her nose, and internally braced for the next hour. This would go well. God was still on the throne, even if it felt like He’d dropped the ball on a few things lately. He’d straighten her paths. Eventually. She could do this, just like she’d done it a hundred times before.
Beckoning for Taylah to follow, she moved to the creative learning space and began setting up. Sure enough, families soon started gathering, waiting for the magic moment when the rope enclosing the creative learning space would drop and the children were welcomed in.
Twenty minutes later, given the space was heaving with kids already, Allie signaled for Taylah to place the Sorry, we’re at full capacity placard on the easel nearby and judged it best to begin. She drew in a deep breath.
“Good afternoon, boys and girls, moms, dads, and caregivers. We’re so glad you’ve decided to join us today for the Summer Art Spaces series here at the Institute. My name is Allie”—so much easier for the kids to say than Allison—“and this is my colleague, Taylah”—Taylah grinned and gave a wave—“and we hope you’ll enjoy yourself this afternoon as we learn about the wonderful French artist Claude Monet.”
She glanced around at the faces lifted expectantly to her—apart from one man, glasses and baseball cap on, looking at his phone already. Indignation rose in her chest. “I would like to take this opportunity to encourage parents and caregivers to explore the world of art with their children, to be in this moment right now.”
Did that sound too sharp? Taylah’s raised brow suggested yes. Allie softened her tone. The man still hadn’t looked up. Oh well.
She went on to explain the usual procedures, then began the brief slideshow of some of the Institute’s more famous treasures, some of which she’d also covered in the painting tour this morning. But kids liked the treasure hunting aspect, and after this, they would be released to go and explore with their families using the special kid-friendly “treasure maps” of the Institute, a concept she’d designed and implemented two years ago, for which Myra had taken the credit.
Speaking of being in the moment, she needed to forget the injustices of the past and focus on right now. She completed her spiel and outlined instructions for the activity, unable to ignore the baseball cap man who still hadn’t looked up.
