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Both Jecca and Tris tried to cover their laughter but weren’t very successful.
“Nell,” Tris said, “only you could get away with telling him that.”
“I don’t think I will,” she said seriously. “It might make him cry.”
Tris and Jecca looked at each other and smiled at Nell’s wisdom and compassion. No one liked to be told he lacked the talent to pursue his dream.
After lunch, Tris kissed both his “girls” good-bye and went a full twenty yards away to fish some more. Jecca thought he was a beautiful sight in his tall waders, his fishing line flashing in the sun.
Nell was anxious to go back to painting. “How about butterflies?”
“Good idea,” Jecca said. “But what if you draw butterflies and I draw you? Maybe you could help Kim sell her jewelry.”
“I’d like that,” Nell said.
They didn’t go far from Tris. Nell tried to make a painting of a little blue butterfly, and Jecca tried to capture the way Nell’s eyelashes—“like feathers” as Tris had said—brushed against the curve of her cheek.
They’d been working about an hour when Nell said, “In two weeks I’m going to a birthday party.”
“That’s great,” Jecca said.
“I don’t want to go.”
“Why not?” Jecca asked.
“It’s at my cousin Rebecca’s house. She’s the same age as me, and it’s for two days. Every year she only invites six girls to spend the night, and I am always one of them.”
“You don’t like Rebecca?”
“She’s okay. She’s only medium smart, but she doesn’t have to be because she’s a McDowell.”
“I don’t know what that means,” Jecca said.
Nell glanced across the woodland toward the stream and lowered her voice. “Uncle Tris says it makes no difference, but she’s rich.”
Jecca couldn’t help frowning. “Nell, I don’t mean to be a spoilsport, but you don’t exactly come from poverty. Your uncle buys you anything you want.”
“I know,” Nell said softly, then was silent and looked like she didn’t intend to say another word.
Jecca knew she’d broken a cardinal rule in dealing with kids: l
isten, don’t criticize. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll stop being an obnoxious adult. Tell me what the problem is.”
Nell took a moment before speaking. “Rebecca feels sorry for me.”
“Yeow!” Jecca said. “That’s awful. Why in the world would she feel sorry for you?”
“My dad fixes cars and her dad is a lawyer. We live in a little house and she lives in a mansion. And her mother makes her invite me.”
Jecca had to work to keep from spouting out her true opinion of the little snob. She had an idea that Nell’s extreme prettiness, her intelligence, and her overall likeability played a big role in this. It was highly probable that Rebecca McDowell was jealous of Nell.
But Jecca knew it was no use saying that and making Nell feel worse. “No hope of getting out of going?”
“Rebecca would tell her mother, then everyone at church would hear about it.”
“And you’d look bad,” Jecca said. “All right, if this is a must-do thing, then we need to figure out a way to make it better.” She thought for a moment. “What if you showed up with a fabulous gift that was better than anyone else’s? Something unique?”
“Last year her dad gave her a pony.”
