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There it is, that praise. There goes my imaginary tail, wagging like crazy.
“Dr. Warner!” comes a voice.
One of my mother’s friends shuffles across the newly polished floor, her floral skirt tight around her knees. I can tell she got dressed up for this, just to scope the place out. Notably, she’s got a small plate stacked high with imported cheese and slices of fig.
“Mrs. Cassidy,” he smiles as she rakes him with her eyes, her gaze darting back toward me every half a second or so.
Something dark inside me starts to simmer. This is a moment I knew would happen, one where a Willowdale resident was going to trap me. She’s got me in her sights, probably already calculating the sorts of things she’s going to be able to say about me tomorrow. What I’m wearing. What the gallery looks like. Her opinion of the art.
And most of all, what she thinks of my physical proximity to Dr. Sturgill Warner.
“Well isn’t this nice!” Mrs. Cassidy exclaims. “I mean… It’s nice! Isn’t it?”
Her substantial bosom heaves inside the dress, something I don’t think she’s worn in quite a while. She doesn’t seem comfortable. I suppose it’s just the camouflage she decided to wear when she went out on her mission to spy on me tonight.
“I’m glad you think so,” I say politely.
She presses her lips together, bouncing the overladen plate in her fingertips. Over her shoulder I can see Dusty shooting me a terrified look. I surreptitiously raise my fingers, letting Dusty know she doesn’t have to intervene.
“Didn’t Joanna do an absolutely spectacular job?” Dr. Warner suddenly says, edging closer to me. To my surprise I feel his hand slip around my waist, pulling me toward him affectionately.
Mrs. Cassidy’s eyes widen, a ring of white circling her gray irises.
“Goodness, of course she did!” she breathes heavily, taking in every detail.
I imagine this will all be precisely recounted: how close he was standing to me, how long it took him to draw me closer to him. How affectionate the position of his hand looked.
But instead of backing away, I decide to lean in instead.
“Thank you so much, Sturgill,” I sigh, looking up at him. It’s the first time I have said his name on purpose, and I have to admit it feels delicious on my tongue.
He heard it too. His smile is slow and sly, something shared just with me. I feel a barrier of privacy develop among us. There’s something discrete and unique. Something Mrs. Cassidy can’t hope to penetrate. Something waterproof.
“Well, all right then,” she murmurs from far away and I sort of hear her shuffle off.
But it’s hard to concentrate. Most of what I see is him.
“Is that all right?” he asks me in a confidential murmur when she is out of earshot.
I’m still rooted to the spot, trapped in the tractor beam of his gaze.
“Perfectly all right,” I confirm.
Again, there’s that feeling like bubbles inside me. Like I am filled with champagne. It would be stupid to tell him, though. I’m leaving in the morning, and this is all just for show anyway. It’s been good practice, though. It’s been nice to pretend. And it’s nice to have this handsome date on my arm as we open the gallery.
It may just be theater, but it is a very enjoyable sort of theater.
Chapter 15
Sturgill
All week long there has been a countdown over my head. At first I thought it was Mrs. Cooper’s pending baby delivery, but I’ve brought dozens of babies into the world. When she finally goes into labor, the delivery is uncomplicated and simple, with the usual drama and excitement. A vibrant baby girl, who will be named after her grandmother.
Just the way it’s supposed to be. Just the sort of life we’ve had here for generations.
But I can’t seem to center my focus. I can’t seem to get at ease with myself.
Running is no help. I’ve been out surfing twice and that didn’t do anything for me either. I’d like to go into the gallery and see what the progress is, maybe touch base with Joanna…
