Page 55 of The Summer Swap

“That’s because most parents want the predictable, secure option for their child. You would have been wasted as a doctor. You were always so creative. Remember when you came over and decorated Hannah’s bedroom? You must have been about sixteen. I don’t know what you did. Mixed different shades of paint. Did something fancy. It looked good. Even my parents commented on it. And you did some sketches one summer by the pool.”

“You remember that?”

“Yes. I have one of them on the wall in my apartment.”

“You—” she couldn’t believe it “—you have one of my drawings?”

“Yes. My grandfather was an artist, remember? I was raised to think of art both as something aesthetically appealing to hang on your wall, but also as an investment. And don’t ask for it back. I like it, and I won’t sell it even when you’re famous.”

“I’m never going to be famous. I don’t want to be famous.” What did she want? “I just want to wake up every morning and look forward to my day. Not dread every moment.”

He nodded. “Looking forward to the day is good. Enjoying your work is good. Knowing you’re doing what you’re supposed to be doing. Feeling as if you’re living the right life.”

“It doesn’t sound like much, but it’s everything. And not many people have that, I know. Plenty of people do jobs just to earn a living. And that’s fine. But to love what you do...” She sighed. “That’s the goal really, isn’t it?”

“Yes. And it’s a goal worth striving for.”

It wasn’t a surprise that he understood. He always had. He was one of the few people who really knew her, perhaps even better than Hannah did. It was one of the reasons that his relationship with Amelie had hurt so much. She hadn’t just lost the dream of something more happening between them, she’d lost a friend because friendship had never been possible while Amelie was in the mix.

She turned to look at him. “Do you really have a job to do here or was that an excuse?”

“I do. Mr. and Mrs. Elliot from Beacon Hill, Boston, have bought themselves a four-bed, three-bath property on the waterfront, and who have they decided is the perfect person to remodel their kitchen? Me. Custom-made, sustainable. It will last a lifetime. I wasn’t supposed to start the job until August but when I saw where my grandmother was, I juggled my schedule. And I surprised her, I know.”

“You might have surprised her, but she was pleased to see you. That’s the happiest I’ve seen her all week.”

“There are no paintings on the wall.” He sucked in a breath. “That’s it. I knew there was something about that living room that felt odd. Just hooks, as if they’d all been taken down. Except that one.”

“Yes.” She didn’t tell him about the frames that had been destroyed. She and Cecilia had stowed the paintings themselves away in the cupboards in the studio. “The Girl on the Shore. I love it.”

“The—what did you say?” He sat up suddenly. “What is the painting called?”

“The Girl on the Shore. Why?”

“The day of the party—” He rubbed his fingers across his forehead, trying to remember. “I heard them talking about it. Someone was asking about that painting. They said it didn’t exist.”

Lily was mystified. “Why would they say that?”

Todd shook his head. “I’ve no idea. I don’t understand.”

Lily was silent.

What she didn’t understand was why Cecilia had smashed every painting but that one.

12

Kristen

He’d picked a restaurant that overlooked the harbor instead of one of their usual haunts, and she wondered if it was symbolic that he wanted to be somewhere that came with no memories.

She didn’t care. She was relieved that Theo finally seemed to be more in control. More like his old self. She’d been scared. She’d started to worry that he’d never leave the house again.

And then yesterday she’d woken to the smell of pancakes and found him making her breakfast in the kitchen. It had been a turning point, and now here they were in a restaurant. His suggestion. His choice. He’d even booked it himself, instead of leaving her to do it.

She was out to dinner with Theo, and for the first time in as long as she could remember she didn’t have to worry about him being called to the hospital. She didn’t need to rush her food, or leave half of it on her plate, or finish the meal alone. She could relax and enjoy the atmosphere. And the atmosphere was special. They had a table right beside the water, which had taken some sweet-talking on his part. It had been fascinating to watch. She’d forgotten how charming Theo could be when he wasn’t distracted by work.

This was the old Theo, the Theo she’d fallen in love with, albeit an older, sadder version.

So here they were, at the best table, gazing at each other over a flickering candle.

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