Garrett knew this hadn’t been the kindest response, but he was surprised by the way Eleanor’s face became suddenly tense, her lips pressed together until they went white with the pressure. He very quickly discovered that he did not care for this look on her. He missed the blushing.
“Well.” She cleared her throat rapidly. “As of about, oh, forty-eight hours ago, I am officially divorced, so that seems very unlikely to happen, I’m afraid.”
Garrett wished he could go back in time and let the flour brain him. Surely that would have been less uncomfortable that this very, very awkward silence.
“I, uh…” This time, he was the one who cleared his throat. “I’m really sorry to hear that.”
She sighed.
“I’m not,” she said. “Not really. It was… the right move. But it does mean that you’re probably right about one thing.”
This might have been a good moment to say something else, but Garrett didn’t trust his mouth to not say something that would make this terrible situation worse.
Eleanor had mercy on him, mercy that he probably didn’t deserve.
‘Anyway, I’ll look into hiring that professional to get some of the jobs done,” she said, giving him a smile that hedefinitelydidn’t deserve… and that didn’t quite reach her eyes. It was a polite smile.
Garrett, who had become the town curmudgeon instead of being polite in an attempt to make other people feel comfortable, did not know what to say.
“Okay,” he said, then immediately felt like a total dope.
“Okay,” she said. “Well, I’ll see you around.”
She gave him another polite half smile as she headed on her way. Garrett paused before continuing his own shopping. He tried to ignore the foolish little flicker of hope that she’d been right about her parting words too, and that he would, in fact, see her around.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Would I be good at knitting? Or maybe cycling? Or… quilling? What evenisquilling?
Cadence scrolled through an illustrated listicle of up-and-coming hobbies, wondering which one of them might scratch the itch she’d been feeling recently, the feeling that she needed some fresh new excitement in her life.
The part of Cadence that had taken a few psychology classes in college recognized this impulse. She was feeling at odds with her life, so she wanted to find something new and fun that would distract her. But understanding that a knew hobby could provide some much needed joy and diversion during her separation did not, as it turned out, actually help her choose a hobby to try.
She should ask Miriam, she decided. Miriam knew how to do everything, the odder the better, as far as the older lady was concerned. She would definitely know what quilling was, that was for sure.
This might not have provided her with an answer, but it did provide her with a direction, and Cadence felt a renewed energy. She jotted down a few ideas that she at least wanted to discuss with her friend. Even if Miriam didn’t have all the answers, speaking with her would likely be illuminating.
And Miriam probablywouldhave some answers. She usually did.
“Hey, Cadence!”
She looked up from her page full of notes to see Martine, a local artist who sold her paintings in the gallery, carrying an old-fashioned milk crate full of canvases.
“Martine!” Cadence tossed aside her notebook and stood, grabbing the crate and putting it on the desk before giving Martine a quick peck on the cheek.
“Hi there, girl,” Martine said, returning the brush on the cheek. “I have some things for you if you want them.”
“From you? Always.”
The older woman had moved to the Massachusetts Bay from Haiti in her adolescence, and her art combined elements both from Haitian artists and New England movements like the Hudson River School. The result was striking and often seemed like it shouldn’t work, but Martine’s works always made the unlikely combinations into gorgeous, spectacular pieces of art that sold out as quickly as they came in.
“Amazing,” Martine said. “I have to dash, but I know the system well enough by now. Just send me the info when you have it ready, and I’ll shoot the signed contract back to you.”
“No,you’reamazing,” Cadence replied with a laugh. “I’ll have that contract in your email by the end of the day, tomorrow at the latest.”
Martine blew a kiss over her shoulder as she dashed back out, leaving Cadence to sort through the canvases. The first two were beautiful. The third one Cadence knew she’d be displaying in the gallery’s front window. But the fourth one was the one that made her pause her movements, her breath leaving her in a rush.
The creature emerging from the ocean in the painting wasn’t clearly identifiable, not the way Martine had blurred the lines to imitate movement. Even the ocean itself was painted in anunusual way. But her genius blending of colors was still there, and the majesty of the creature surging from the sea… it was captivating. Unique. Beautiful.
