His body stills beside me, and I wonder if he’s thinking of his wife. Of her work, stored in the studio, hidden from view.
I should leave it alone. It’s private business and I don’t want to upset the man whose generosity deposited me here, deep in this magical experience.
But I want Zane to be happy. And I know he’s twisted with misery every time we’re in the studio. Confronted not just with the ghost of his mother but the death of her work. Corpses lining the casket of her studio when they should be out in the world, sparking contemplation, bringing joy.
“This is inappropriate and out of place, but I’m going to say it because I care for your son.” The face Paul turns my way is disturbingly blank and my stomach pinches tight again. “I doubt Zane would ask you, but I will. Would you ever let her work be shown again?”
A wild array of expressions play across his face, then he turns away.
I try again. “He’s miserable with how much he misses her and the guilt he feels over all the things he couldn’t say while she was here. He needs that part of her to still be alive.”
Paul beckons to a waiter, swapping out his drink for a fresh one and I do the same. His body language has gone from comfortable to stiff and I stare at the floor, guilty for ruining what was a lovely evening, wishing I’d kept my mouth shut instead of offering useless advice to the man who made this possible.
“You were right. It isn’t your place.”
I nod, wishing I knew what to say to shift us back to the easy companionship of a few minutes ago.
“But I’ll talk to Zane. He deserves input into his mother’s legacy.” A relieved sigh rushes out of me as he turns, surveying the room, his face animated again. “Now let’s go find these trays of canapes. I’m starving.”
Him and me both.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
AVON
Two hours later,we’re in the car again, Paul driving me home to tell Zane everything about the evening. Perhaps unnecessary given the number of texts I’ve sent his way already, but there are still a million details I want to impart.
“How did you enjoy it tonight?” Paul asks, nervous fingers tapping the same rhythm that Zane regularly beats out on the school lockers. A similarity that makes me smile.
“Absolutely brilliant. I could happily attend an event every night for the rest of my life and never get bored.”
“Then you’ve got more stamina than me,” he says with a smile. “Catching up with everyone is nice but I’m wiped.”
“Thank you for taking me. It really means a lot.”
“Well, my son enjoys your company and he can barely stand anyone, so you must have something special going for you.”
“I didn’t realise he was so anti-social.”
Paul laughs, coming to a stop as the lights change. “He’s not, really. Zane can hold his own in social situations but there’s only a select few he lets closer.” He gives me a sideways glance,forehead creasing. “I’m glad he met you, though. For the past few years, he’s been running wild.”
A laugh bursts out of me. “Yeah. I gathered that from his ankle monitor.”
He pulls a face. “Mm.”
“Sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry for speaking the truth. If I want you to feel bad about something, I’ll let you know soon enough.”
A red traffic light catches us again as we travel away from the city centre, our journey progressing in fits and starts.
“Zane said you only moved here recently,” he says at our next stop.
“Yes. I had trouble at my last school, and we moved here for a change. My mum runs a salon in town.”
He steals another glance before turning his attention back to the road. “Maddy Larsson?”
My eyes widen a little. “You know her?”
