Christopher found her in the drawing room, adjusting the flowers on the mantel. “I think you have overprepared a bit…”
Frances turned to him, a soft smile playing on her lips. “There is no such thing as being overprepared. We should make sure everything is perfect so that the next generation can look at us and remember,” she replied. “I just hope the boys are up for it.”
Christopher chuckled, nodding towards the hallway, where Edwin and Ernest were peeking around the corner, their eyes filled with curiosity. “I think they’re more excited than we are.”
Frances laughed. “Well, let’s not keep them waiting, then.”
They gathered in the grand drawing room, where the artist had set up his easel and paints. The twins were dressed in their best outfits, their eyes wide as they looked at the artist at work.
“Wow,” Ernest breathed. “Are you really an artist?”
Mr. Hawthorne nodded gently. “Yes, and you are going to be my subject. Are you ready? You should get seated now.”
Christopher and Frances joined them, and together they sat for the portrait.
“Relax your pose,” Frances said to Edwin, who in turn dropped his shoulders. “Not so much.”
“Relax, Frances.” Christopher chuckled. “You need not worry so much. We are in the best of hands, as the artist is known for his work. Is that not right?”
Mr. Hawthorne nodded. He seemed a man of a serious disposition and did not look like he was going to joke around with them.
“Please, hold still so I can begin.”
“Of course,” Frances said, tapping the twins on their backs. They straightened up, and all four of them gave their best smiles.
Mr. Hawthorne began his work, capturing their likenesses with swift, sure strokes.
Frances and Christopher stood behind the twins, where Christopher’s arm was draped protectively over her shoulder. In front of them stood the twins.
They looked like a real, happy family.
But unlike how the happiness had been a farce when Christopher had sat for that family portrait years ago, this time the happiness was real.
“Hold still, boys,” Frances whispered gently, trying not to break her expression as Ernest wiggled slightly, his curiosity getting the better of him. “We want to look our best.”
“But what if he paints me with my eyes closed?” Edwin asked quietly, causing both Frances and Christopher to stifle their laughter.
“There is no such thing.”
“But what if!”
“Hush, now.”
The children continued to move around, causing the artist to glare at them more than a few times. It was an imperfect moment, but somehow, it made it all the better for Frances.
There was no pretense here. They were being captured exactly as they were.
* * *
Two weeks later, the portrait was completed and ready to be unveiled. The family gathered in the drawing room for the grand reveal.
Mr. Hawthorne seemed quite proud of himself, standing next to the portrait and waiting for the family to settle down in anticipation.
“Are you ready?” he asked, his hand poised to pull away the cloth covering the painting.
Frances and Christopher exchanged a look, their hands intertwined.
“We’re ready,” Christopher declared.
