“Yeah, I have two with me, and I have a bunch of pictures for her to look at. I even posted one of Lil’s paintings on Instagram.” Kara was right. Lil’s art needed to be seen. “Just to see what people would say. I mean, I still don’t have much of a following, but that last picture of me in Lil’s garden got a lot of likes.”
“Wow, I never knew you were capable of being this mainstream.” She laughed. “Bye, girl. Call me tomorrow.”
“Okay, will do,” Dahlia said, turning the ignition.
It was a Friday, just after five, so that meant cocktail hour for the residents on the small island. A time to retreat home and kick a few back before dinner at one of the upscale restaurants. Aside from the expanse of cars in front of her waiting to drive off the boat, it was quiet. Just the way she liked it. It was like stepping back in time.
Dahlia drove up the short hill; the sun pierced through the canopy of tall trees. The air was beginning to cool off, and she was no longer sticky with perspiration. She pulled into a spot acrossfrom the Hive, took a deep breath, and gave herself a once-over in her navy dress and large tote filled with Lil’s art. Why was she so nervous?
When it opened, the door gave a long screech. There was music playing, but it wasn’t familiar. It was bluegrass meets folk. It was very much a Shelter Island vibe, and only added to Gretchen’s hipster, Williamsburg aesthetic, which Dahlia found so cool.
“Is that you, Dahlia?” a woman’s voice called from the back.
“Ah, yeah. It’s me.” She set her tote down on a barstool and looked around. She spotted Noah’s handywork everywhere she looked, from the banquettes to the batten board walls and sleek organic bar made from mahogany. Her eyes felt wide and bright as she grazed her palms across the recently shellacked bar top. He was so talented. How did he manage to do all this and help her at the house? She was still mystified. He really was something else. Maybe he had superpowers after all. She let out a light chuckle, hearing Lil’s words in her head:He’s a keeper.
“Glad you’re here,” Gretchen hollered from the back. “I’m testing some last-minute recipes. Let me wash up.”
“Of course,” Dahlia yelled back, feeling her pocket vibrate. She pulled it out; it was an email notification from the gallery. It read,Please sign and return your onboarding documents ASAP. Dahlia tried to swallow the boulder now wedged in her throat. Was this the sign she was looking for? She squeezed her eyes shut. As much as she’d known this day was coming, she wanted to remain in her lust bubble with Noah and didn’t want anything or anyone to pop it.
“Okay, so what do you think of the place?” Gretchen walked out in a cute army green romper, her hair in a high ponytail.
Dahlia looked up with wide eyes and tucked her phone behind her back. “The wall color is perfect. I love the lighter batten boardunderneath.” She inched closer to get a closer view. “It reminds me of shades of sea glass. Very English countryside vibe.”
“Oh, that makes me happy.” Gretchen clapped. She genuinely seemed happy that she was there. And that tickled something inside Dahlia that longed for friendship.
“I brought some photographs of my aunt’s paintings and a few so you could see them in person.” She’d left the ones on Lil’s barn wall where they were. Something told her to leave them be. Dahlia opened her tote and spread the copies on the table. “The palette is bright with some moodier hues. I think the botanicals will look nice and go great with the farm-to-table vibe. And the name the Hive.”
Gretchen flipped through the impressionist botanicals, still lifes, and garden landscapes. It was way too quiet. Maybe she didn’t like them?
“We can mix them with any other pieces you have too,” Dahlia added, feeling her tone rise. “No pressure. They may not be your cup of tea.” Dahlia shifted her stance, waiting for Gretchen to respond.
“I love them. They are perfection.”
Dahlia let out the breath she was holding. “Great.”
“This one especially.” Gretchen held up the still life of a vase of echinacea. “The colors remind me of pickled cabbage.”
“I can see that.” Dahlia’s smile grew. She was still trying to find her footing with Gretchen. She liked the idea of having another woman in her life, even if she was leaving soon. Two weeks suddenly didn’t feel long enough, and she wondered if she should tell Noah about her plans.
“It’s the foodie in me.” Gretchen laughed, leading the way. “Come on, I’ll show the rest of the art I’ve collected for the space.” She looked back as she walked to the back. “I was thinking of a gallery wall above the paneling.”
“Love that idea,” Dahlia said, following her past the swinging kitchen door.
Gretchen stopped mid-route and turned around. “Hey, listen, I appreciate you doing this. I know you have a full plate.”
“It’s no problem. I enjoy coming over here.”
Gretchen stared at her with big eyes. They were slightly darker than Noah’s but still beautiful. “Noah likes you, you know.”
Dahlia drew in a breath, not sure where this was going. “Well, the feeling is mutual.”
“He told me about your parents. I’m sorry. That must have been awful.” Gretchen’s blue orbs softened.
“It was. I had to grow up fast. Too fast.” Dahlia shrugged.
“I know a thing or two about that. I practically raised Noah with the help of my stepdad. If not for him, we’d have been in foster care, split apart.” There was a tick in her jaw.
Dahlia reached for her hand. “It all worked out the way it was supposed to.”
