“You and me both. I’ve never been much of a fan of loud places.”
“And yet you claim your heart’s desire is outside painting beautiful pictures in the middle of big cities.”
“That is true. Did I mention I keep my earbuds in most of the time?”
“You didn’t, but it makes sense now. What do you listen to?”
“No one has ever asked me that. It depends on what I’m painting.” He spotted a bistro table across the way and pulled out a chair for her. “This should be a pleasant spot.”
She took the seat.
A waiter brought by more champagne.
Matthew declined, as did Whitney. “Could I trouble you for a couple of waters?” he asked. “We have a long drive back.”
“Certainly, sir. I’ll be right back.”
They ate, enjoying the quiet and being by the river. “It’s so nice out here.” She glanced around, then perked up. “I didn’t notice there was a mural back here.”
“One of mine, actually.”
“Really? That’s why you wanted me to come out here with you. You were luring me with a sunset, but this was on your mind the whole time.”
“The sunset is honestly what I wanted you to see, but I have fond memories of working on this mural.”
“Plus, it’s not too tall. You barely needed a ladder.”
“Didn’t,” he agreed.
She got up from her chair and stepped out further on the brick patio to see it from a distance. She nodded with appreciation. “It’s beautiful. It’s a mirror reflection from across the river, isn’t it?”
“It was an exact mirror image when I painted it. Things across the river have continued to grow. My mural is but a snapshot in time.”
“How long ago did you paint this?”
“This one was done about twelve years ago.”
“It looks like you just painted it. Are the colors still true?”
“They last for years.”
Amazing. She scanned the entire length of the mural. “Excuse me a moment.” Whitney walked down to the far end ofthe patio and then came back wearing a big smile. “I see where you integrated your father into this one.”
“Fly-fishing,” they said at the same time.
Matthew’s heart caught. Days in hip waders with Dad were some of his favorite memories. Not that anyone probably did any fly-fishing on the York River, but he’d painted this a few weeks after he died. It was top of his mind. Sometimes he worried those memories would fade, which was why he kept including Dad in every mural in every state. He only had two more to go before he’d covered them all. Experiencing every state in America with him, if only in his mind.
“I like how you added the old-timey straw creel at his feet, and I noticed the stringer of fish just beneath the water. It was subtle, but definitely plenty of fish for a feast.”
“Yeah. A good day.” Matthew looked at this woman, wondering if he’d ever met anyone so genuine. That she’d even thought to look for his dad in the mural meant so much to him. “Turn around.”
“What?” She spun to where he was pointing.
He stood behind her as they both watched the sunset on the horizon. “It’s so beautiful.”
“Isn’t it?”
She twisted, holding his arm still close to her body. “I feel like I’ve known you forever.”
