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An hour later he unlocked the classroom door as Peggy appeared at his elbow.
"Good evening, Leif. I looked up some of your artwork. You are such a talent," she said, parking a hand on her hip and smiling at him with apple-red lips. She sort of fluttered her eyes, looking a tad unsure at her attempt to engage his attention. At that moment, he felt bad for her. Something akin to loneliness lurked in her eyes.
"Why thank you, Ms. Peggy. I'm proud of what I've been able to accomplish. It's a joy for me." He swung the door open and flicked on the lights.
"You know, I can tell. Shows in your paintings. You sure have traveled around a lot. Me, I've only ever been to Florida to visit my late husband's aunt. I didn't like her much, but Florida sure was pretty.”
Leif wasn't interested in making small talk with the older lady, but he didn't want to be rude. "Your husband is no longer with you?"
"Not since last December. Heart attack in the middle of a Saints game. I'm not kidding. He was dead before he hit the floor."
“I’m sorry." He erased the board, turning slightly so he could make eye contact.
"Yeah, he was a pain in the ass, but he was my pain in the ass. You know?”
He could hear the love in her voice. "He must have been a good guy."
"Only the best for me, honey," she said with a wink.
Leif waved as several other students came in, including the new student, Mr. Cho, whom he'd met earlier in the office. Then he caught Birdie out of the comer of his eye. He raised his hand to say hello, but she didn't look up. Just set her pad on the table in the middle of the classroom no one had used last time and sat without even looking at him.
So that was how it was.
Abigail hurried in, talking low on her cell phone. She caught his eye but immediately looked away.
And something inside him twanged like a string breaking on his ukulele.
He nodded at Peggy, who had turned her attention to the older lady whose name he couldn't seem to remember. Wait, Alba. That was it. Leif shook off the slight and readied his supplies as if Abigail weren't the woman he'd made love to last night. If Abigail wanted to treat this like a secret, he'd go along with it. But still, the idea felt like shoving his foot into a stiff Oxford dress shoe a size too small.
Tight fit and not real comfy.
Fact was he was an instructor, so he shouldn't emphasize a personal relationship between him and any student. This was a professional setting for him.
"Okay, everyone, if you'll get seated, I have a special treat for you tonight," he said, clearing his throat and holding up his hands in order to get everyone's attention. The two college girls slipped in late, quickly sliding into their former seats, tugging out their earbuds and pocketing their cell phone with a quick look of acknowledgment at him.
"Is it one of those life models?" Peggy cracked with a cackle. '"Cause that's what I took this class for- to sketch a real live hunka, hunka burning love."
A few people in the class chuckled, but most, including Abigail, who had gotten off the phone, looked confused .
"I don't think you're quite up for drawing the human body, but I do think you're ready to learn some technique tonight, including adding perspective to the still life you sketched last time. I'm going to pass back the sketches of the fruit, but I want you to take out several clean sheets of paper to practice some of the techniques I'm about to show you. Giving perspective will help you become a better artist. After we practice, we're going to re-create the piece of fruit using what you learned. Any questions?"
Birdie raised her hand. "I did a whole bowl of fruit."
"Which was ambitious."
The child frowned. "Not what I meant. Can I choose just one item?"
Yeah, she wasn't smiling or happy the way she'd been in the last class. He wondered if Birdie knew about him and her mother. ''Of course."
Abigail caught his gaze then and he could see the apology in her eyes.
Shoving thoughts of Abigail from his mind, he plunged into the lesson, reminding himself to treat Abigail like any other student. Of course that was easier thought than done. During the course of the class he couldn't escape the prickling of awareness every time he passed Abigail. He sucked in the scent of her shampoo like some nutcase, noted the way she tilted her head along with the way her eyes narrowed making four small furrows on her forehead. When she bent to erase a line, her hair swished forward, reminding him of the way it brushed his naked chest when he'd held her.
Ignoring her didn't work so well. His gaze was too stubborn.
And damned if Abigail didn't sense his thoughts. Often her gaze would meet his and suddenly the world fell away. He'd smile at her, forgetting he was her instructor, too lost in the idea he was her lover. On some level it felt very much like junior high - him eyeing the girl across the room, composing poetry in his head, trying to hide the boner he had under his desk.
Thankfully, no one else seemed to notice the looks that pass between him and Abigail …except for Birdie.
