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“I’ll let you get to sleep. I love you, honey. Enjoy London. Send pictures.”
“I love you too,” she said. “And I will. Tell Aunt Winnie hi and that I love her too.”
I hung up and looked at my computer. I’ve been sitting here longer than I care to admit and once again, have nothing to show for it. Standing, I slipped on my sandals and headed downstairs. It’s such a beautiful day and I’ve been cooped up inside. Maybe a walk on the beach will help clear my mind and the words will flow.
When I didn’t find Aunt Winnie in the house, I walked out the backdoor to check in her studio. The window Max installed a few days ago was open and so was the front door. I knocked on the door jamb and she turned from the canvas in front of her.
“Come in.” She gestured with a paintbrush. “How’d it go today?”
“Not well.”
“Well, you just got here. Give it time.”
I was going to say it’s been almost three years, but don’t want to whine about it anymore.
“I did talk to Grace though. She says to tell you hello and that she loves you.”
“She’s such a sweet girl,” she said. “You did a good job raising her.”
I smiled at her compliment and turned my attention to her painting.
“That’s so beautiful.” I looked around at all her finished works. “They all are. How is it
that you can create this, and I can’t draw a straight line with a ruler?”
“We all have our own talents. You’re an artist with words and I paint.” She looked at the
work in front of her and frowned. “Of course, I don’t paint faces. They never turn out quite the way I want them to.”
The beach scene she’s working on depicts a family having a picnic in the near distance,
but none of the people’s faces have features. Yet somehow, she manages to portray their happiness.
“What you do works.” I studied the painting again, then turned to face her. “I’m going to take a walk on the beach and pray for inspiration.”
Standing, she wrapped her arm around my shoulder and squeezed.
“The words will come. Just relax and enjoy being here.” She pulled back to look me in the eye. “Maybe find a young man to spend time with. You do write romance after all. Having a romantic encounter might help with that.”
That’s the second time in ten minutes I’ve been told to find a man. Am I that pathetic?
“I don’t know about that last thing, but I will relax and enjoy being here.”
“You know, Max Corbin is single. And in case you didn’t notice, he’s good looking. He’s also very sweet.”
“I’d have to be dead to not notice Max’s good looks, but I think he’s a little young for me. How old is he anyway?”
“I have no idea,” she said. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Age is just a number.”
“Aunt Winnie, I’m here to spend time with you and get my writing back on track, not have my own How Stella Got Her Groove Back experience.”
“Who says you can’t do all three?”
Max
Pop inventoried our remaining supplies while I set the batteries for our cordless tools into their chargers. We had a busy day building stages and structures at the festival grounds and tomorrow will be more of the same.
“This’ll get us started tomorrow. We can figure out what else we need once we know exactly what we still have to do. They keep changing their minds.”
