Page 64 of The Summer Swap

“I’ve been in this business for too long to let people read me. Even you.” He turned back to the paintings. “You didn’t paint these. I know your work.”

“No, I didn’t paint them.” But she was surprised that he would remember her style so well, given how many years it had been since they’d seen each other.

She didn’t tell him that she rarely painted now, that her garden was her outlet for creativity. Time for that later. For now, she wanted to focus on Lily.

He lifted one and propped it against the wall before standing back. “It’s extraordinary, but you already know that, or you wouldn’t have brought them here. Why me? You have contacts everywhere.”

“Because your opinion matters to me. And you have flawless taste.”

“You flatter me.” He gave a faint smile. “Tell me about her. What’s the story? Not art college.”

“How do you know it’s a ‘her’?”

“Educated guesswork.”

“The first thing to tell you is that she doesn’t know I’m showing you these.”

Seth’s gaze was still on the paintings. “If they are all as good as this then she’ll have to know soon enough. It would be a crime to store these in a dusty closet. What else?”

“She reminds me a little of myself at the same age.”

He turned his head, and she could see that she had his attention.

“You mean oblivious to her own talent?”

Had she been oblivious? “I’d say unsure of her own talent.”

“Now I’m really curious,” he said. “Show me the rest.”

They spent an hour, heads close, studying and observing, exchanging thoughts and the conversation energized her more than anything had over the past year.

Seth scribbled a few notes on a pad. “I’m old-school,” he said when she remarked on it.

At some point Seth’s assistant opened up the gallery and immediately people wandered in, drawn to the art and the sculptures, keen to take a small reminder of the Outer Cape home with them.

Seth greeted them politely but left his assistant to deal with sales and queries so that he could stay with Cecilia.

“When can I meet her? Your artist.”

Cecilia felt a ripple of anxiety. She hadn’t thought further than this moment. “I’ll talk to her. See what she says.” What would she say? Would Lily be upset that Cecilia had taken her paintings without her permission?

“I’ll meet her anywhere that suits her.” He gathered the paintings together. “And now tell me about you. What are you doing now?”

“I’m spending some time at the cottage.”

“I meant right now.”

“Oh—nothing.” She felt herself flush. “I mean—I’ve done it. I came here.”

“Good. Then have lunch with me.”

“Lunch?” The invitation flustered her. It had been so many years since they’d seen each other. So many years since their lives had been intertwined.

“Why not? We can catch up properly. There’s a new beach restaurant that serves the best lobster rolls. We can buy ourselves a picnic and eat it at the beach.”

A beach picnic. As if they were teenagers and not two sensible adults in their seventies.

She felt as if she should say no, but why? Her life was her own, to be lived in the way she chose. There was no one she needed to consult. And when had she last had a picnic? When had she last done anything just for the simple joy of it? If she wanted to start exploring a new life, without Cameron, then this seemed like a good place to start.

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