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“It is gross,” Lauren said calmly, “and yes, I do think that.”
“Men,” Mack said sagely and Lauren nodded.
“Absolutely.”
Oblivious to the conversation going on in her absence, Nancy retrieved the painting that she’d stored in the back of a closet in a spare room.
She’d put it there because she could no longer bear to look at it. Because it jarred with her mood and reminded her of a time in her life when she’d been happy and hopeful. A time before the dark clouds had set in.
The painting had mocked her from the entryway. Life used to be like this.
But why couldn’t life be like that again?
As Lauren hung it on the wall Nancy could immediately see how well it fit in. And how different it looked here in this sunny room.
The painting brought the ocean into the room.
Mack came and stood next to her. “How much is it worth?”
“Mack!” Lauren sent Nancy an apologetic look but Nancy shook her head.
“It’s a good question, but I don’t know the answer. A few years ago, probably a stupid amount.” She’d never quite got used to the idea that people were prepared to pay tens of thousands of dollars for one of her paintings. “Now? I don’t know. Tastes change. Fashion changes. The market changes.” Not that she’d ever painted for the market. She’d painted for herself.
“If you hate looking at it, Grams, you could sell it and use the money to buy yourself something you really want.”
Nancy put her arm round her granddaughter. “That,” she said, “is an excellent idea. But the strange thing is, I don’t hate it. I used to, but now I think I like it. What do you think, Lauren?”
“I think it looks good there, providing you’re happy to have it on the wall.”
Mack stepped closer to the painting. “Why did you never sell this one, Grams?”
“Your grandfather made me promise never to sell it.”
Of course he’d made plenty of promises to her that he hadn’t kept. For richer or poorer. He’d made sure it was poorer. Forsaking all others—thinking it made her want to laugh.
Mack was frowning. “Why would he care about this one in particular?”
“I painted this the day we got engaged. He wanted to remember it.” But did she?
“Does it make you uncomfortable, Mom?” Lauren had finished the windows and through the gleaming glass Nancy could see the garden and, beyond that, the ocean.
Ben was in the garden, his familiar figure bending and straightening as he tended to her beds. Although he did most of the physical work required to maintain the garden, the ideas were hers. They made a perfect team.
A perfect team.
She saw his muscles flex as he stamped his foot on the shovel and dug deep. His shoulders were broad and his physical job kept him fit. How had she not noticed that before?
Something unfurled slowly inside her, a feeling so unfamiliar she didn’t immediately recognize it. Realizing that it was sexual attraction gave her a jolt.
She was too old to have feelings like that, surely? She’d assumed those days were long gone.
In all her years of marriage, she’d never strayed. She’d been too bruised from the fallout of her one relationship to even contemplate another.
“Are you okay, Grams?” Mack was frowning. “You’re flushed. Are you sick?”
Nancy dragged her gaze back to her granddaughter and then to the painting. If they could read the thoughts going through her mind, they’d be shocked. She was shocked. And goodness only knew what poor Ben would say. She was going to have to be extra careful around him. Imagine how embarrassing it would be if he guessed she was having wildly improper thoughts?
“Is it the painting that’s upsetting you?” Lauren looked concerned. “If you decide you don’t like it, then we can sell it.”
