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“So what? I hate you, too. But that don’t mean you shouldn’t rise above it to help out other people.”
Blue shoved her wet paper towel in Karen Ann’s hands and returned to the table.
On the last day of June, Blue loaded up her painting supplies in the back of Dean’s Vanquish, backed it out of Nita’s garage, and headed to the farm. Instead of leaving Garrison, she was starting work on the dining room murals. She’d been so nervous she couldn’t eat breakfast and, with a queasy stomach, she carried everything inside. Just looking at the blank walls made her hands clammy.
Everyone except Dean poked their heads in while she set up. Even Jack appeared. She’d seen him half a dozen times in the past few weeks, but she still tripped over the stepladder.
“Sorry,” he said. “I thought you heard me coming.”
She sighed. “It wouldn’t have done any good. I’m destined to mortify myself where you’re concerned.”
He grinned and hugged her.
“Great,” she grumbled. “Now I can never wash this T-shirt again, and it’s my favorite.”
When he left, she taped up her drawings so she could refer to them as she worked. With her gray watercolor pencil, she began sketching the broad outlines onto the walls: hills and woodland, the pond, a sweep of mowed pasture. As she marked in a stretch of fence, she heard a car pull up and looked outside. “Dear God in heaven.”
She hurried to the porch and watched Nita haul herself from the driver’s seat of her red Corvette. April must have heard the car, too, because she popped up behind Blue’s shoulder and softly uttered the F-bomb.
“What are you doing?” Blue called out. “I thought you couldn’t drive.”
“Of course I can drive,” Nita snapped. “Why would I have a car if I couldn’t drive?” She jabbed her cane toward the brick sidewalk. “What’s wrong with good concrete? Somebody’s going to break their neck. Where’s Riley? She should be helping me.”
“Here I am, Mrs. Garrison.” Riley raced outside, without her guitar in tow for once. “Blue didn’t tell me you were coming.”
“Blue doesn’t know everything. She just thinks she does.”
“I’m cursed,” Blue muttered. “What did I do to deserve this?”
Riley helped Nita inside and led her to the kitchen table as directed. “I brought my own lunch.” Nita pulled the sandwich Blue had made her earlier from her purse. “I didn’t want to be a bother.”
“You’re not a bother,” Riley said. “After you eat, I’ll read your horoscope and play my guitar for you.”
“You need to practice your ballet.”
“I will. After I play my guitar for you.”
Harrumph.
Blue gritted her teeth. “What are you doing here?”
“Riley, would you know if there’s any Miracle Whip? Just because Blue doesn’t like Miracle Whip, she thinks nobody else does. But that’s Blue for you.” Riley fetched a jar from the refrigerator. Nita slathered it on and asked April for iced tea. “None of that instant stuff. And lots of sugar.” She held out half her sandwich toward Riley.
“No, thank you. I don’t like Miracle Whip either.”
“You’re turning into a picky eater.”
“April says she doesn’t believe in eating things she doesn’t like.”
“That’s fine for her, but look at you. Just because you used to be fat doesn’t mean you should turn into some kind of anorestic.”
“Leave her alone, Mrs. Garrison,” April said firmly. “She’s not turning into an anorexic. She’s just paying attention to what she eats.”
Nita harrumphed, but when it came to April, she picked her arguments.
Blue returned to the dining room with the distinct feeling that today wouldn’t be the only day Nita elected to camp out here.
Later that afternoon, Dean came inside, grimy and sweaty from working on the porch. Blue decided there was a big difference between a sweaty male who didn’t bathe regularly and a sweaty one who’d had a shower just that morning. The former was repulsive, the second…wasn’t. While she didn’t exactly want to curl up to his damp chest, she didn’t exactly not want to either.
