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“Good afternoon, dear,” she replies, wiping her hands on her apron.
“How are you doing?” I ask.
“I’m fine. Just tending to my babies,” she says, pointing to the mini flower bed in the back.
“Have you seen Jeffrey? I need to talk to him but can’t find him nowhere.”
“Oh, Mr. Rowland is very much around somewhere. My best bet is that he is in his workshop,” she says. How did I not think of that? His workshop is his sanctuary.
“Thank you,” I say, turning to head back inside.
Just as I am about to open the door to the beach house, Mrs. Brown’s voice stops me once again.
“You know, dear, I’m glad Mr. Rowland has found happiness with you. He deserves it.”
I turned to face her, surprise evident on my face.
“Mrs. Brown, I don’t think you—”
“Ah, don’t be modest,” she chuckles, interrupting me.
“I’ve known him for years. And I can tell you, I haven’t seen him this happy in a long time. He’s changed, for the better, ever since you’ve arrived.”
I bite my lip, unsure of how to respond. It feels surreal to hear someone talk about Jeffrey’s happiness, especially in relation to me.
“I... I don’t know what to say.”
She walks over to me, placing a hand on my shoulder.
“Dear, there’s no need to feel shy or deny it. Love knows no boundaries, and you two seem perfect for each other.”
I smile, feeling warmth spread through me at her words.
“There is nothing like perfection,” I remind her.
“Yes, but we embrace our imperfections and make them perfect. Love always wins; never forget that,” she says, and I gasp. Am I so obvious?
“Mrs. Brown,” I start to say, but she shakes her head.
“No, not another word. Just go and find him,” she says, signaling an end to our conversation.
“Thank you, Mrs. Brown.”
Her words echo in my mind as I enter the house. Does it mean that Jeffrey loves me too, setting aside all those years? Each step I take, I reflect on my little conversation with Mrs. Brown. It’s like she saw right through me. Each passing day, I fell deeper in lover with Jeffrey. The more time we spent together, the more I discover the wonderful man I knew he was going to be. But the weight of my secret burdens me, reminding me that I needed to talk about it today.
It’s hard to keep the secret as Jeffrey continues to shower me with care and attention. He reveals a side of himself that I missed for so many years, reigniting the flame within me.
Minutes later, I stop in front of the showroom. I take a deep breath and glance at it.
“This is it, Phebe; you need to tell him,” I mutter under my breath. I release a sigh before knocking on the door. No response, so I knock again, but still nothing. With hesitation, I push the door open. What greeted me inside was a breathtaking display of Jeffrey’s work. his paintings never cease to captivate me. The room has filled with stunning artwork, each pieces capturing a unique aspect of life and emotions.
“Jeffrey,” I call out, met with silence. Stepping inside, I survey the room, wondering where he might be. On one side, I notice fresh colors and brushes, along with an unfinished painting, suggesting he was recently working here.
“He must have stepped out,” I mutter, preparing to leave. However, my gaze lands on a solitary painting, set apart from the rest. Its placement catches my attention, and a sense of unease washes over me as I approach.
My eyes widen in shock as I realize it’s a portrait of me from years ago, the colors are still vibrant. Stunned, I stand frozen before it, my heart racing and my emotions in turmoil.
Why would he have hidden away a painting of me like this? What does it mean? Does it hold any significance to him, or is it just another piece in his collection? A pang of sadness courses through me as I consider the possibility that he kept it out of sight because he had closed that chapter of his life, the one that included me.
