“No preferences?”
“Faces. I really enjoy drawing and painting faces. If only for the eyes. Your work is all art; do you also make room for it in your private life?”
“As much as I love art, I’m more a consumer than a creator. I dabble, but it’s all pretty awful.”
“Maybe you need more repetition. We all suck at first.”
“Hmm, I doubt that. Natural talent exists.”
“True, but talent without practice—without hard, diligent work—goes nowhere.”
“I suppose that’s true for most areas in life.” Penelope put her cup back down. “And it’s not so much that Isuck—well, I do, but it’s more that I use artistic expression as a form of relaxation. It’s fun, but it’s not supposed tobeart.”
“That makes sense. It’s totally valid to do so.”
“Of course.” Penelope’s lips curved. “I don’t have the time or the will to turn my expressions into a true craft.”
“That’s fair. I honestly wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I didn’t paint. Mind you, I sometimes hate it, too. Not the art itself, not even the process. But sometimes it doesn’t click. Nothing comes out right, or you want to paint but can’t make yourself. It can be…frustrating.”
“Are you currently stuck like that? I’m sensing a slight undercurrent.”
Lucia pressed her lips together. “A little, but it’ll pass. It always does.”
“Huh. That must be comforting.”
“What?” Lucia asked.
“Knowing that things will always work out.”
Penelope met Lucia’s gaze and held it. Her heart pounded. What was she doing?
“Yes, especially when the rest of your life is mostly a raging storm.”
“You could always bring an umbrella,” Penelope said.
Lucia laughed, a joyous sound that warmed Penelope even further.
“I like the way you think. Yes, I suppose that’s one way to approach life.”
“You seem doubtful.” Penelope stirred her drink.
“I’m generally pretty levelheaded and bounce back faster than most, so what you said…” Lucia frowned.
“What?”
“I just realized I’m wrong.”
“Care to elaborate?” Penelope hated how she yearned to know more about Lucia, and not just because of her plan.
“Well, I thought what you said is pretty much how I live my life, but it’s not. I do bounce back fast, but I don’t do much preparing. Like, I don’t really plan stuff.” She shrugged.
“In what way? At work?”
“Everything, really. I just go with the flow.” She cringed. “That sounds corny and trite, but it’s true. I don’t bring umbrellas.”
A pause.
“You just hope it doesn’t rain?” Penelope asked.
