Rafi looked at his partner. “I don’t find that explanation the least bit satisfactory. You?”
“Kari. Really. Please.”
“Well, if you’re going to be that way about it,” she said.
“We absolutely are,” Rafi said.
“All right, then.” She led them back to the atelier and pointed to the four packing crates stacked beside the drop cloths. “Careful not to step on Sienna. She’s hiding back there.”
Kari watched them unlatch a crate’s top and begin setting out her work. They gradually rimmed the walls with paintings, some of which she had not seen in over a year. Longer.
“Do you want tea?” she asked a little while later.
“Kari, be a dear and go for a walk. Pet the cat. Something. Just . . .” Graham watched Rafi set the next painting down in the line. “This one?”
“Definitely,” Rafi replied.
Kari decided her only real option was to ignore them and paint.
To her surprise, the day’s intensity resumed almost instantly. She was mildly aware of the two men as they moved about and talked in near whispers. She knew they occasionally shifted paintings about. She noticed when Sienna emerged and drifted about the room’s periphery, finally settling by the north wall, as far from the men as she could get and still remain within the late afternoon sunlight.
The sun moved. The kitten moved with it. Not purring. But there where Kari could see her. She painted.
Then she realized her two friends stood to either side. Watching her. Studying the two canvases.
She set down her brush and palette, cleaned her hands, waited. “Well?”
“You are growing up,” Graham said.
“And there’s one more.” She walked to the corner opposite where the crates had been stacked, and carried back the easel holding the storm-clad guitarist. With Graham’s help, she settled it to the left of the pair.
“Our precious darling girl,” Rafi said. “Coming into her own.”
“I could weep,” Graham said.
“Go right ahead,” Rafi said. “Why should I be the only one getting all teary-eyed?”
Kari settled her arms around their two shoulders. “They’re not finished.”
“They will be,” Graham said. “Not long now.”
They made a picnic on the atelier floor, facing the three easels. Kari’s other paintings lined the back wall and the wall to her left. Sienna vanished when they started moving about, but the offer of food drew her reluctantly back. She finally settled close enough to accept a morsel from Rafi and allowed Graham to stroke her ears.
“I can’t believe Sienna has already forgotten us,” Graham observed.
“She hasn’t forgotten anything,” Kari replied. “She’s acting like a spoiled little kitty.”
Conversation during the meal remained disjointed. Her two friends seemed distracted, even anxious. Twice she started to tell them about Ian. But their oddly distanced air kept her quiet.
Finally, she demanded, “Will somebody please tell me what is going on?”
“You might as well,” Rafi said, lifting the kitten into his lap. “It’s not like it’s going to get easier with time.”
Graham showed irritation. “Me? Why on earth should I be the one?”
“Because you know I’ll mess things up. Then you’ll spend the entire trip back telling me how you could have done it better.”
“Oh, all right.” Graham turned to her. “Kari, dear, there’s more.”
