Page 57 of Something Borrowed

“That’s adorable!” Gwen said.

“Isn’t it?” Claire agreed.

All three women were now looking at Vic expectantly. The problem was Vic didn’t know what they were expecting.

“So?” Madeline prodded.

“I know it’s close to Christmas,” Claire added. “I’ll pay you, of course. Is one hundred enough, or—could I do payments if you need more?”

Vic shook her head, confused. “I’m not sure—”

Gwen interrupted Vic with an understanding smile. “Vic, Claire’s asking if you will do a small portrait of her friend’s cat for the price of one hundred dollars, or more if you’ll accept payments.”

Vic blinked.

Claire nodded energetically. “That’s exactly what I’m asking. I’m so relieved that you even do pets!” She motioned at the Boots’ picture again. Then she dug into her bag again and pulled out a 5x8 manila envelope. “I have photos—at least six of them. And personality-wise, well, she was an angel in cat form. The most gentle soul. Unless you were a dog. She wasn’t a fan . . . Or a man. Couldn’t stand them. Or a kid, either. No, she wasn’t much for kids. Not all. Or, well . . . she really loved Lacey.”

Somewhat dazed, Vic took the proffered envelope, withdrew the photos, and studied them. Different ages and poses, which was great. Rumple—Gwen was right, that really was a great name—was a petite Tortoiseshell with, from one photo anyway, the capability of giving a great stink-eye.

“What kind of a background or setting do you think your friend would like for Rumple?” It was only as the words left her mouth that Vic realized she was going to say yes to this bafflingly flattering bizarre request. She was going to do a . . . commissioned piece of art.

Claire was full of ideas and Vic jotted down all of them. “And what size were you thinking?”

“Small,” Claire said decisively. “6x6 or 5x7 at the largest. Lacey’s home is also small, and there’s something about your little portraits being little that makes them so—”

“Charming?” Madeline supplied, and Vic was gobsmacked and very, very touched that Madeline used the same word she herself had thought of regarding her “work.” She bit her lip to keep from laughing with incredulity.

“Exactly!” Claire exhaled in relief.

“It is a fast turnaround, but it should work. I have a light schedule right now. I can have it to you for Christmas Eve, if you want to pick it up here?”

The details were sorted, Claire went bustling on her way, and Vic rang in the last customer who had happily taken the extra browsing time Claire’s visit had enabled.

When Gwen locked the door, they all said, “Whew!” simultaneously—and laughed.

Madeline flipped the Christmas countdown calendar that currently announced “4 More Sleeps” to read “3 More Sleeps” instead.

“So, it’ll be ready for tomorrow,” she explained unnecessarily. “Now, how about sharing a pot of tea before we head out?”

“Lovely,” Gwen said.

“Yes, please,” Vic said.

“Really, we should be having champagne,” Madeline said as they headed to the dining room. “Do you drink champagne, Vic?”

“As long as it’s cheap and sweet,” she said—then thought, Shoot, they probably have taste and like the good stuff.

She needn’t have feared. Both Gwen and Madeline roared with laughter.

“Our kinda girl,” Gwen said.

“But why champagne?” Vic asked curiously as they sat down, tea in hand a few minutes later. She was always so far behind Gwen and Madeline in jokes or conversations.

“Well, to toast you, of course,” Madeline said as if it was glaringly obvious. “I’ll make sure to buy a few bottles of something sparkly for our staff party and we’ll do it then.”

“There’s going to be a staff party?”

Yikes, the eagerness in your voice is humiliating.