“No, thank you, Helen.” She smiled. “That will be all. Just make sure Audrey doesn’t overdo it.”
She nodded and disappeared quietly and efficiently.
“You know, I never knew my mother,” Mayor Burnett said as she began to pour the tea into two dainty china cups. “She died giving birth to me.”
“Were you raised by your father then?” Olivia asked curiously, taking the offered cup.
“Heavens no,” she chuckled. “And thank God for it. He didn’t take my mother’s death too well, and he liked to drink. I was practically raised by my brothers until I was nine years old, when my father drank himself to death. After that, I came to Mercy and was adopted by the Burnetts. A lovely couple who were unable to have children of their own.”
“What happened to your brothers?” Olivia asked.
“Oh, they’ve been gone a long time now.” She took a sip from her tea, her eyes a little sad and wistful
“I’m sorry.”
“The point I’m trying to make, Olivia, is that we are more than those we come from. Don’t let all the bad parts of the past drown out the good. I know it’s being thrown in your face at the moment, but it will pass. Whether your father is guilty or not, it doesn’t change the man he was when he was with you. If you want to treasure those moments, then do so and don’t feel guilty about it.” She set her cup down on the table.
There was something about her, about those dark eyes, that seemed familiar, but Olivia couldn’t place it. Suddenly uncomfortable, she stood abruptly.
“I appreciate the tea, Mayor Burnett.” She wiped her clammy hands on her jeans. “But I really should be going now.”
The mayor stood, watching Olivia calmly. She reached into her pocket and withdrew an elegant business card, handing it to her. “I do hope, if you have any more problems, you will come to me. My door is always open.”
“Uh, thanks.” Olivia took the card and shoved it into her coat pocket. “It was nice to meet you, Mayor Burnett.”
Olivia hurried out of the office and then the building, stepping into a downpour. Pulling her hood up and ducking her head, she made her way down the sidewalk back toward Main Street. Narrowly avoiding a deep puddle, she crossed the road and paused. Something in a nearby store front caught her eye. She looked up at the sign on the front of the building, and an idea suddenly formed in her mind. Impulsively, she grasped the door handle and headed in.
“THEO?” Olivia called, stumbling through the door, holding awkwardly on to a large wooden frame and several overflowing bags.
“Good God, what have you been up to?” He raised a brow as he wandered into the hallway and took in her appearance.
Kicking off her boots, she blew her wet hair out of her face and smiled at him. “Come and help me.”
“What is all this?” he asked, lifting the wooden frame.
“Oh, you know, just something I thought you might like to try,” she replied, grabbing the last couple of bags and heading into the dining room, leaving him to follow behind.
“A gift?” he asked as he watched her pulling out items and setting them on the dining table. “For me?”
“I guess.” She began unpacking more stuff.
“You brought me a gift?” He picked up a tube and turned it over in his hands. “What is all this?”
“Art supplies,” she muttered as she scanned her purchases strewn across the huge old table. “Hmmm, maybe I got a little carried away. No wonder the clerk looked so happy.”
“These are for drawing pictures?”
“Not just drawing.” She smiled. “I know that while you were at Riverside, they gave you watercolors to use, but that was like one step up from the kid’s stuff. This is the good stuff. You’ve got oil paints and acrylics, that’s what all those tubes are. I also got you your own sets of watercolors, pencils, pens, charcoals, and pastels. I figured you’d probably want to try different mediums and find which one suits you. There’s some more stuff in the car and an easel over there for you. There’s pretty good light in here, so if we move the table out of the way, you can use this room while you’re here.” He watched her with unreadable eyes as she chatted away. “I also got you some books. There are a couple on techniques and some on the greatest artists of the twentieth century. You probably don’t have a clue who Monet or Van Gogh are.” Her voice suddenly trailed off as she realized he hadn’t said anything.
“Why?” he asked quietly.
“Because you have a talent.” She shrugged. “And you should be given the chance to explore it, if for no other reason than it makes you happy.”
He continued to watch her until she shifted and twisted her hands.
“Um, if you don’t like them, it’s okay, I can take them back.”
He reached out and grasped her coat, tugging her closer while she watched him warily. She opened her mouth to speak, but his lips suddenly found hers. Wrapping his arms around her, fingers tangled in the wet ropes of her hair, he fisted the locks gently and tugged her head back so he could taste her.
