Page 57 of The Distiller's Darling

“Do you remember in college, when Ross Jacobs gave me that cute little rose gold ring he’d gotten on his trip to Montana? We weren’t dating, just friends, and he thought of me when he saw it because it looked like a sculpture I was working on. And then, when I was home on break, Mrs. Greene stopped me in the cereal aisle in the grocery store to wiggle her eyebrows at me and ask about the ’special ring’ I’d gotten from a man.”

“I … may have mentioned it to a few people.”

“Can you at least try to imagine how uncomfortable that made me feel?”

Her mother nodded. “I’m sorry.”

Naomi shook her head. “Iain and I were just having a good time together. I didn’t need all of San Francisco society Googling him to see if he was good enough for me.”

Her mother was silent, staring at the sculpture.

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that he’s been very good for you,” her mother said. “But also that I want to see that piece in the gallery, along with everything else. I’m amazed by what you do, Naomi.”

She stepped closer and slung her arm around her mother’s shoulders in a one-armed hug. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you, but I’m pretty sure I got all of my artistic skill from you.”

Her mother flushed, then smiled. “Well, your father can’t even draw a stick figure when he tries, so it had to come from somewhere.”

“I mean it. You have amazing taste, Mom. It just came out a little differently in me.”

“Well, I’m proud of the way you use it,” her mother said, returning the hug.

“Thanks. And Mom—thanks for coming. Thanks for worrying about me.”

“Try and stop me,” her mother said. “What’s next?”

Naomi stepped away and filled her lungs with air, trying to ignore the pinch in her chest that felt like heartbreak. It was time to move on. Her next move had been planned from the beginning, and she was ready to make it. “Next, I head to the gallery in San Francisco to set up the show. It’s time to pack up and leave River Hill for awhile.”

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