CHAPTER8
Castaways was a work of art, aged and weathered, filled with good cheer and a rainbow of fragrances. Long before their first course arrived, Kari grew certain she was in the company of genuine people. There were five of them crammed around a table meant for four. But the entire restaurant was overfull, and the confines somehow added to the atmosphere.
Noah was accompanied by his wife, Jenna Greaves. The two had been married only a few months, and their love surrounded the table in a soft luminescence. Noah, the artist with wood and stone, and Jenna, the . . . what? She had described herself as a nurse, but the way the others watched her as she spoke, the depths to Jenna’s gaze, Kari was fairly certain Jenna carried secrets. She and her husband both. Just the same, they showed her a genuineness that no amount of hidden elements could taint.
The other couple was equally fascinating. Noah’s half brother, an African American county sheriff named Amos, and his Latina wife, Aldana. Silent and strong and entirely comfortable in their own skin. The harmony that bound these four people was a quiet force that welcomed Kari yet held the rest of the world at bay. What was more, the sheriff lived just down the valley lane from Kari. Soon as Noah revealed this, the couple went out of their way to assure Kari that they would not bother her or probe or come by when they weren’t invited.
Aldana told her, “Privacy is one big reason why people move to our valley.”
“We go out of our way to be good neighbors,” Amos assured her. “And invisible most of the time.”
Midway through the second course, Kari found herself struck by how she was the one who was not being honest. As in, refusing to reveal who she truly was. Forming her own version of the falsehood she had grown up with. Fashioning a lie through her silence. Keeping the truth of who she was hidden. She sighed, confronted by how Miramar was already making changes in her life.
She heard herself say, “There’s more to this than just my need for privacy. Which is really important. I’m an artist. A painter. I go by the name Kariel.”
“Kari Langham,” Noah said. “Wow.”
Aldana said, “You’re famous.”
“I’ve never been comfortable with that,” Kari said. “Fame.”
The four exchanged a long look, and then Amos said, “Somebody needs to tell the lady.”
“Youaskher,” Aldana corrected. “There is no telling. This is a request.”
“You know that’s exactly what I meant.”
“Then you should have said it.”
“I’ll do it.” Jenna turned to Kari and said, “We have very dear friends. Ethan is a banker here in Miramar.”
“And an artist,” Aldana said. “He builds miniature houses. A few go to children, but they’re mostly for film sets and such.”
Amos was already busy with his phone. He held out the device so Kari could see a brightly painted palace in the softest pastels. “This is three feet high.”
Jenna said, “His wife, Ryan, is a detective on the Miramar force.”
“We’re all very close,” Aldana said. “The four of them, Ryan and Ethan and Noah and Jenna, they got married in a joint ceremony.”
“We all own an ocean cruiser together,” Amos said. “Love to take you out someday, if you’re interested.”
Noah said, “Ryan has a son from her first marriage. Liam. He’s twelve and a truly gifted kid.”
Amos scrolled swiftly through his phone and showed Kari a sketch of his wife, one that was precise and clear and vivid. A minimum of lines. Remarkable maturity, incredible depth.
Kari asked, “The person who drew this is twelve? Truly?”
“Liam thinks the world of your work,” Jenna said.
“He has two of your posters on his walls,” Aldana said. “Children on the swings. A baby at the surf’s edge, bound by the mama’s legs. The first time my Amos saw that picture, he wept.”
“I did no such thing,” Amos protested.
“Inside, where only I saw.” Aldana nudged her husband. “Where it means the most.”
Jenna said, “Some of Liam’s work was used in Noah’s last television project.”
“Back before my LA world got shredded,” Noah agreed.
