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“I am,” she agreed. “I want to hear everything that’s happened in your life lately.”
“Me the same,” Kim said as she opened the refrigerator and pulled out a quiche, salad, olives, asparagus in a vinaigrette sauce, and bottles of raspberry-flavored sparkling water.
“Nice,” Jecca said. “Did you cook all this?”
“It’s from our local grocery, and before you ask, we have pretty much any cheese Zabar’s does.”
“Velveeta?”
“Of course. We’re Southern.”
Smiling, Jecca picked up a couple of plates that were on the countertop.
“We could eat out there with Tris’s orchids,” Kim said, and Jecca had her arms full of plates and food before she finished the sentence.
Kim got a Rim">Kim tray, filled it, and they went back to sit among the plants.
Jecca looked about the room as she began to eat, noticing the way the light came through the windows and played off the colors of the flowers. She thought how to layer her watercolors to achieve just that shade of pinkish red. “My apartment isn’t as big as this conservatory—and certainly not as pretty.”
“Mrs. Wingate’s husband added it right after his father died. But Tris put the plants in here and he takes care of them. He was over here a lot when he was a kid. The Wingates never had children, so Tris and his sister sort of filled in.”
“Nice for all of them,” Jecca said. “This food is good.”
“Not what you expected in backwater little Edilean?” Kim asked.
“After all the times I’ve been here, I know about you guys. You people love to eat.” She nodded toward the doorway that led into the house. “So tell me about the other people living here. Please tell me no one’s going to be knocking on my door at two A.M. wanting to chat.”
“The truth is,” Kim said as she took a long drink of water, “I don’t really know all the details. I hadn’t been out here in years until I started trying to get the apartment. Right now Mrs. Wingate is in her shop in town, and—”
“What does she sell?”
“Heirloom clothing.”
“What’s that? Vintage clothes?”
“Oh no,” Kim said. “It’s a type of sewing. I don’t know much about it, but . . .” She lowered her voice. “There’s a woman named Lucy in the apartment across the hall from you, and she sews all day long. She makes nearly all the clothes Mrs. Wingate sells.”
Jecca leaned forward. “Why are you whispering?”
“Lucy is very reclusive. I think she may be agoraphobic but no one mentions it.”
“Scared to leave the house?” Jecca asked, also whispering.
“That’s my guess. Even though I’ve been here several times in the last couple of weeks, I’ve never met her, never even seen her. I think she stays in her apartment nearly all the time.”
Jecca leaned back in her chair. “Sounds good to me. The last thing I want is to get involved with people this summer. I have enough to do in my real life with Andrea.”
“Speaking of which, how’s your boss’s honeymoon going?”
“You think she’d tell me?” Jecca asked. “The fact that I’m the one who got her gallery out of debt and started showing artists who actually sell, is that a reason to let me know what’s going on? And there are the three times she kept me at the gallery until dawn as she cried about yet another boyfriend dumping her. Are those enough reasons to send me a postcard?”
Kim laughed. She loved hearing Andrea stories and
knew they were an outlet for Jecca’s frustration with thet iion wit woman. “Is there a possibility that she might close the gallery permanently?”
“I hope not, but her father swore that if she did, he’d get me a job in another one.”
“I could use some help,” Kim said, her tone hopeful.
