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Maybe Leif hadn't just popped her buttons. Maybe he'd thawed her, healed her, made her think about wanting more than what she'd settled for- a lonely bed, a hard heart, a facade of practicality and self-sufficiency. What if her heart had been moved only because she was falling in love? Maybe Leif filled her in ways she'd never imagined.
Stop that right now, Abigail Ann. Love and Leif do not go together. Leif is for big-girl-fun. So keep your mind off forever, sister.
With that firmly in mind, she went to find Birdie. She needed to swing by the grocery store before heading to Laurel Woods. And then maybe later she could finally spend some time with Leif.
Or not.
That was how casual affairs worked-no rules. And for now that worked for her.
LEIF HAD SPENTthe past five days without a friend who had really nice benefits. Abigail had a full house due to an early Mardi Gras and her nights were spent tending to a sick Birdie, who had contracted the flu. In lieu of her physical presence, Abigail sent him sexy texts.
She claimed she'd never tried sexting before, but an article in a magazine had convinced her it wasn’t perverted. So he received pictures of cleavage and one of a selfie in a thong. She learned quickly. And it was welcome relief from writing lesson plans.
Sunday morning rolled around and feeling especially lonely, he got down to work tying up all the loose ends for the judging of the Golden Magnolia Award. The Laurel Woods Art Festival was less than three weeks away. He'd procured the judges, booked their hotel rooms, and correlated their itineraries with the other events. Everything had to be Hilda-approved. After sending the last email, he saw an email had come in from Bart. He was out of town for the next week and couldn't meet.
Disappointment filled him.
He hadn't accomplished much in his quest to find his father-he'd been a little distracted. Of course one distraction was delectable. But that was no excuse. And Abigail hadn't been over in days.
Glancing at his watch, he made a snap decision. Leif needed to talk to someone who could give him insight into his mother's life while she was in Magnolia Bend. According to Hilda, there was one person who knew more about the Laurel Woods Guest Artist Program than anyone else-a woman named Carla Stanton.
Picking up his phone, he dialed the number for the woman who had worked as the director of the program and the chair of the festival for over ten years. With any luck, Carla would remember his mother. .. and maybe the man Calliope had loved.
She answered on the fourth ring. "Mrs. Stanton?"
"Yes?"
"This is Leif Lively. I'm a member of the Laurel Woods Art Festival committee. I have a few questions."
An hour later, Leif stepped into Carla's patio home south of Baton Rouge. Carla had iron-gray hair, a sad face, and a plate of killer oatmeal cookies.
"Gosh, working for Simeon seems so recent. Funny how that is. Years just speed by too fast," she said, passing him a cup of steaming cinnamon spice tea from an old-fashioned tea cart. They sat in recliners, but Carla seemed determined that social niceties prevailed. "So why exactly did you need to see me?"
"I wanted to get a sense of the past artists- a sort of 'looking to the past for our future' direction- in order to set up the exhibition tents for this year's festival. Since I need exact numbers by the end of next week, I figured I'd talk directly to someone who remembered the last few festivals so I can be better prepared." God forgive him, but his excuse was a bald-faced lie. He'd already sketched out the design for the entries.
"Well. That's an interesting idea. I like a man who respects tradition," Carla said, her gaze flitting over him again. He could see what she thought of him: what an untraditional-looking fellow.
"I heard all of this started with a visiting artists program. How did that come about?"
Carla rambled on about how Simeon had gone to Europe and met a guy who sponsored artists. He'd returned determined to try the same thing. Yada yada yada. And finally she came to his mother.
"You know, he was so smitten by one particular artist-a girl named Calliope. Shocked us all be cause we always suspected him to be a little light in his loafers, if you know what I mean."
''As in homosexual?"
Carla's mouth twitched. "We never used that word. So crass."
“Do you prefer gay?”
She made a face, and he almost laughed. But didn’t because he wanted answers. “So why this girl?"
“Well, for one, she was stunning. Coloring just like yours. Very blonde and she had this beautiful way about her, just the way she'd tilt her head or widen her eyes when you told her something. There was this innocence paired with, well, sexiness. She was someone in a song, you know?"
Yeah, he knew. All too well.
His mother had stood out in their commune, too, no matter how hard she tried to blend in. Her art and the very essence of who she was could not be hidden. "So... "
"Oh, well, Simeon fancied himself smitten with this girl."
