"We're very happy customers," Ida said. "We started a fan club. Also, Otis, you and your brother should branch into body pillows."
"Ida!" Hazel said, horrified. Ida poured herself another drink.
Hazel clapped her hands. "Today we're going to do some landscapes. A nice thing that I like to do before I start being creative is to do a little motivation. It can be a phrase, an idea, a painting you like…"
Ida's hand shot up. Hazel smiled blandly at her.
Ide stood up. "My inspiration is men." She sat back down. All her fellow retreat goers nodded appreciatively. Ida stood back up. "Preferably naked," Ida said. I tried not to laugh as Hazel struggled to keep a pleasant expression on her face.
"Right, okay, well, on that note, watercolor!"
"Will we ever be painting a nude model?" Ida interrupted.
"Painting live figures is very difficult," Hazel explained. "Today, you're going to be doing a painting of a scenic landscape."
She talked through how to paint grass, trees, and mountains and how to use a minimal color palette. Every so often she would sweep her finger around her shirt collar to pull up her bra strap or fidget with the high-waisted pants she wore that barely met the hemline of her cropped shirt. Every time she raised her arm, I saw a slip of creamy midriff. I didn't even bother paying attention to her instructions. There was no way I was going to have the mental control to concentrate on painting today.
"You're not going to paint?" she asked, coming up beside me.
"It's hard to concentrate," I said.
"I know." She shuddered. "I could barely give the lesson what with a dozen sets of your eyes staring at me from those shirts."
19
Hazel
Ididn't know what had come over me to flirt that blatantly with Archer. He seemed surprised and intrigued though, like I was interesting and fun and cool.
Ida hung back after the retreat. She stood next to me at the window as we watched Archer escort his little brothers to his car.
"I have to admit, he is inspirational," I said with a sigh.
"Yes, he is," Ida said. "It's good you're feeding him. A way to a man's heart is food and sex—lots of sex. Ask me how I know."
"I'd rather not—"
"Me and Bert, let me tell you!" Ida said, barreling on. The Svensson PharmaTech train rolled down Main Street, the clanking of the wheels drowning out the most gratuitous details of the perils of sex in one's seventies. "Yoga," Ida finished as the train passed. "That's the secret."
While the train spared me the details, it didn't spare me from the young blonde woman waiting across the street for it to pass.
"Ugh, McKenna."
"She's after your man," Ida commented, glaring out the window.
"Archer's not my man."
"You need to jump on that, then," Ida admonished. "If you insist on wearing those overalls, at least wear some cute panties under them so it's a nice little surprise when he sticks his hands down there."
I was trying to decide whether it would be worse to continue listening to Ida, go downstairs and confront McKenna, or just throw myself out the window.
McKenna made the choice for me. She stomped up the stairs, her stilettos clapping on the hardwood treads.
"You can't steal Archer from me," she said, stalking across the room. "You're a bad influence. He's heartbroken. He misses me, and you're trying to take advantage of him. Archer and I are going to be married. He's in love with me."
"Really?" I asked. "Because from what he said, he doesn't care for you at all."
"You can't just steal other people's boyfriends," McKenna huffed.
