Harper let out a soft laugh. “Those two are something else, aren’t they?”
“They are,” Frankie said. “I’m so glad they’re our neighbors. Didn’t we get lucky? No, not lucky. Blessed. Because that’s what this life feels like. A blessing.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Harper said.
Willa sighed, a happy, contented sound. “They’re literally the coolest.”
“Wait until you meet Prisha,” Frankie said. “Hey, why don’t you go to the next yoga class with me? You’d love it.”
“Yeah?” Willa sat up. They’d all been watching Lucas’s show streamed on the big screen in the living room. “That would be cool. I’m down for that.”
“I’ll let Prisha know,” Frankie said. “Now, I need to get back to work. See you people later.”
“Have fun,” Willa said. “I’m going to put a suit on and get some pool time while I still can.”
Frankie paused. “You know the paparazzi boats are still out there.”
“I don’t care,” Willa said. “If they want to take my picture and make me famous, not much I can do to stop them, is there?” She laughed.
Frankie chuckled, too. “Let me know how that works out for you.”
Harper got up. “Don’t either of you want to eat lunch? By the time we get something made it’ll pretty much be noon.”
Willa shrugged. “I’m good with eating later.”
Frankie shook her head. “So am I. I’m not that hungry.” They’d had a pretty substantial breakfast. “I’d rather spend the time on the painting. Besides, I know I’m going to be eating some of that banana bread when Beryl brings it over. In fact, I’ll be fine skipping lunch.”
“Okay,” Harper said. “Good painting.”
Frankie smiled and headed down the steps. “Thanks.”
Once the gesso had dried, she’d laid in a soft, neutral background, washing soft blues and tans over the canvas in preparation for the actual portrait.
Now it was time to start blocking out Arlington’s face, neck, and shoulders. She sat on the barstool pulled close to the canvas and used the edge of a narrow palette knife to draw the shape of his face into the background paint. She added another line for his jaw, more for his neck and shoulders, a few to indicate his hair and hairline, and the outline of his head.
On her laptop, set up on the two snack tables off to one side, she had a photo of him that she was using as her guide. She glanced at it now and then.
Willa walked into the room wearing her bikini, earbuds in, phone in one hand, towel draped over her shoulder, sunglasses on top of her head. Archie was with her. She tugged one of the earbuds out. “How’s it going?”
“Early days,” Frankie answered. “At this point, it might be the best thing I’ve ever done or the worst. Hard to say.”
Willa came over to look. Not that there was much to see. “You’re still trying to build your business, right? I know you’ve gotten some work lately, but you still want more, don’t you?”
“Yes, very much so. Why?”
Willa shrugged at the canvas. “You should be ’gramming this.”
“I should be what?”
“Posting this on Instagram. I know you have an account.”
“I do.” She’d been meaning to be better about posting new shop items there, but sometimes she wondered what the point was. She didn’t have a lot of followers. It felt like shouting into the wind.
“When’s the last time you used it?”
“Um…” Frankie glanced at her phone. “I don’t really know.”
Willa rolled her eyes. “Mom, how are you going to grow your business if you don’t dosomesocial media?”
