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"I'd use anything I could to get you back into the world. Linden," I admitted. My honest reply brought a smile to his face.
"Okay," he said. "I'll meet your friends, but I'm n
ot saving I'll hang around to chitchat while they talk about college life or something silly.'"
"Fine. Meet us at four," I said.
The twins and Holden arrived in separate cars. He was more than fifteen minutes late. and Pet thought he wasn't going to show. Loni was gleeful when he finally did appear.
"You're late. Holden. We started without you," Pet snapped at him.
"I'm sorry. I had to do something for my mother," he said, and quickly looked to see if I was angry at him, too.
"It's all right. We barely got started," I revealed.
"We've got a lot to do," Pet insisted,
"So let's do it." Loni said. "Here, sit next to me. Holden. I'll share my notes with you."
"I have my own notes," he said, but sat next to her anyway and we began to review.
It was a good study session. Every time Loni tried to bring up something that wasn't part of our work or get Holden to be warmer and more interested in her. Pet would jump down her throat and bring us back to the point. Holden himself seemed incapable of anything else anyway. His shyness was manic at times, Whenever Loni said anything that was in the slightest way complimentary, his face would flush a dark ruby red and he would start to tremble, It was evident in his lips. When she touched him, he practically jumped out of his seat. Finally, she gave me a look that said. "He's hopeless." and devoted her full attention to the work.
At four. Jennings appeared and asked what sort of coffee we all wanted. The twins wanted
cappuccinos. Holden asked for tea. and I thought I'd have a caffe latte. I tried to delay it all, watching the door and hoping for Linden's appearance. Just before Jennings turned to go inside. Linden stepped onto the loggia.
"Oh, there you are!" I cried. "Wait, Jennings. What would you like. Linden? Loni and Pet are having cappuccinos. I know you like that."
"Fine," he said.
"Come meet everyone, then." I told him, and moved my chair so he would have to sit between me and Loni, whose eyes brightened with new interest. Holden was fading fast on the right. I thought, and smiled to myself.
"Holden Mitchell, this is my brother. Linden, and Linden, this is Loni and Pet Butterworth."
He nodded at them and sat.
"We know you're an artist," Loni pounced. "What are you working on now?"
Linden glanced at me to see if I had said anything about his wedding present. He could see that I hadn't.
"I'm doing a special portrait." he replied. "Oh," she bubbled.
"I don't usually do portraits. I think portrait artists are just glorified photographers. Real art needs much more than just a face on a canvas."
"Then why are you doing this one?" Pet asked with a tiny smirk on her lips.
"It's special," Linden said.
"Why?"
"It's not something easily explained. You'll have to wait until I do it," he said sharply.
"What a good answer," Loni cried, It is, Petula. I read somewhere that artists and writers who describe what they are doing lose their creative energy and their passion to do it."
"That doesn't make sense, does it?" Petula asked me.
"Actually, I think it does." I replied. "As Professor Fuentes was saying a week ago, I think, the creative impulse comes in the form of pressure, an obsession for the artist in which the only release comes in creating, releasing it in artistic form. Remember?" I started to thumb through my notes.
