Coming forward, he picked up his sandwich. He stared at it for a minute before raising his eyes. “Why are you defending me? If I fail, I leave. Isn’t that what you want?” He took a bite.
“Yeah, well, if you fail,” I reasoned as he chewed, “the Spa suffers, and the Spa is my bread and butter.”
“You like working here?”
“Yes.”
“What’s the best part?”
“The smell,” I said. “It’s soothing. And the people.”
“Like Joyce Mann?”
“Yes.”
“I can see it. She’s warm and maternal.”
She was a surrogate mother for me, which he was likely thinking but I did not want to discuss lest it lead to discussion of my own mother, which Ireallydid not want. “I also like my clients. They need me.”
His beard might be new, but his smile was the same. “You were always good with faces.”
“This is different.” I rushed to put space between that smile and my current life. “Back then, I did poses, groupings, relationships. I took pictures and spent time analyzing them before I decided on an approach. There’s none of that now. My clients show up with their problems. The challenge is immediate, but so is the gratification.” I returned to the art on the walls. “What’ll you do with the foxes?”
When he didn’t answer, I looked back at him. His brow had furrowed beneath those spikes of dark hair. He didn’t want me returning the subject to him? Too bad. I was here for a glimpse of who he was.
I stared, waiting.
Finally, the frown faded. He hitched his head toward the paintings. “Each time I make up my mind to move them, I start thinking of what I’d put up in their place, and nothing feels right. These are growing on me. I’ve never had foxes on my walls. They speak of the history of this place. Maybe if there were fewer of them, it wouldn’t be bad. Different is good.”
Yes. Different was good. Wasn’t that what my life in Devon was about?
Opening the plastic cup tucked in with my salad, I dribbled dressing on the lettuce, tossed it as best I could, and took a forkful. Rasher and Yolk made the best breakfasts, but their lunches were strictly utilitarian. The lettuce was crisp enough, the parmesan shavings fresh, the croutons crunchy. But the dressing? Not homemade. I had to tell Liam that.
“Do you miss clay?” Edward asked, but I wasn’t letting him get off the hook.
“Are you still in touch with Adam Walker and Tim Brown?” They had been his closest friends back when we were married. Likewise, I had been close to their wives—at least, until the accident. I understood that people didn’t know what to say when something as tragic as that occurred. But the truth went beyond headlines and shame. Those women had kids. I did not. The largest part of what we had shared was gone. We drifted apart.
“Nope,” he said. “Not in touch. Says something about the quality of the friendship, y’know.”
“That it was convenient.” Certainly with those women, I realized now.
“Circumstantial. Shallow. But, hey, I withdrew as much as they did. After you left, I kind of, just, sheltered in place.”
Shelter in placewas a concept usually associated with mass casualty events. Lily’s death hadn’t been that. But it had been every bit as tragic, every bit as life changing. My chest tightened remembering that.
“But you,” Edward said, “you’re still in touch with clay. Do you ever think about going back to what you used to do?”
Pressing my fingertips to my breastbone, I took several breaths. When the tightness eased, I said, “Not now. I’m happy doing makeup. I like my friends. I like my home.” I paused, thought, said, “And Ilovemy pets.”
He seemed puzzled. “Why didn’t we ever get one?”
Then and there, I wondered it, too. “I don’t know. We talked about it. But it was always asome-daything. Maybe if—”If Lily had lived.I didn’t have to say the words for Edward to hear. I could see it in those silver-blue eyes.
Telling myself to move on, I swallowed and forced a smile. “Lily wanted a rabbit.”
“She had a dozen rabbits.”
“Not real ones.” I poked at my salad. “I thought having a real one would be too messy—pellets and cages and all. I mean, what’s the point of having a pet if it’s locked up nine-tenths of the time?” My eyes held the salad. “I should have gotten her one.”
