Page 7 of A Small Town Spring

She smiles.“My mother’s family is from Boscobel.Dad was a Londoner.I grew up between Queens and the West End.Like Toby.We’re hybrids.”

“London’s one of my favorite cities,” I say.“I’d love to spend more time there.”

“It’s incredible, but overwhelming sometimes,” she says.

“Sounds familiar,” I say lightly.“I’m in Manhattan most of the week and here on the weekends.”

“I wondered why we hadn’t run into each other before now.I would have remembered meeting you,” she says.“But then, Toby and I have been hunkered down all winter working.”

“Pete says you’re a sculptor.”

She nods.“I do bronze casting, mostly.Small pieces.It’s a hobby, really.Not like Toby.He’s been making a living at it for a while—a modest living, but still.Sky’s the limit for that one, if he could get out of his own way.”

“I’d like to see your stuff,” I say, not taking her obvious cue to move off the topic of her work.

“You’re sweet.Everyone here is sweet,” she says, looking around at the rest of the men in the room.“And handsome, and clearly besotted with their partners.”She sighs, and I wonder if I detect a bit of wistfulness in it.She glances across the kitchen to where Toby’s smiling at something Van’s telling him—the tines of his dessert fork pressed against his bottom lip as he listens.

“How long have you been together?”I ask, wincing internally the second the question comes out of my mouth.Why should I care?

“Forever,” she says, a lopsided grin on her mouth as she returns her attention to me.“Since art school,” she adds, getting more specific.“So… about a decade?Yeah, I’ll be thirty-two—yikes—this year, so ten years.I did undergrad in the States, then got into the RCA.”

“RCA?”

“Royal College of Art,” she explains.“We met the first day, but it took ages of me dropping hints before he finally asked me out.After that… it was easy.”She looks at Toby again, with a strange expression on her face.“Anyway,” she turns back to me, her voice brisk, “Toby’s dad is an artist, too—Nathan Wheaton.”She says the name like it’s supposed to mean something to me.“Toby almost didn’t go to the RCA because he thought they only let him in because of his dad, but he’s actually got that one-in-a-million spark.Anyone who sees his work can tell right away.He’s the only one who doesn’t seem to believe it.”

I’m intensely curious to see if I can see this spark in Toby’s work.My reaction to the man would seem to indicate his art would hit me the same way.I shiver and focus on his girlfriend.“Why Rosedale, after London?Or were you just looking for its opposite?”

“Probably for similar reasons why you split your time between here and Manhattan.Cities are exciting, but exhausting.We wanted a break from city life, but I thought Toby should stay near an art hub, too.Not that I can get him to meet with anybody about representing him.But I know Pete has connections, so when he invited us tonight, I made Toby come, too.”

“You know Pete wants you for the Art Center board, right?”

“Yes.I’m thinking about it.”She turns her chunky amethyst bracelet around her delicate wrist.She clearly has independent means if she can wear gems like that and do sculpture as a hobby.“Pete seems like a good person.”

“I don’t know anyone better,” I say gravely.

“I should probably do it,” she says.“Though I abhor volunteering.”

“There are perks,” I say.“You get to attend all the board meetings and fundraisers and judge the summer student art show.”Ivy’s not stupid; she knows what she’d be getting herself into.

“Goody,” she says flatly, then narrows her eyes at me.“How did you end up in Rosedale?”

“A happy accident.Took a drive, passed through town, and fell in love at first sight.”

She holds my gaze steadily.“You fall in love at first sight often?”

It takes effort not to look away.Not to look at Toby.At her boyfriend.“Once in a while,” I say mildly.“Rosedale turned out to be the happiest of accidents.It used to be my escape from the city, still is, but after Pete and Jack moved here, it became a real community.And if you let them bring you into it, you won’t regret it.”

She hums noncommittally.“You should come by our place tomorrow.I’ll show you my bronzes and you can see Toby’s work, too, if he’ll let us into the studio.Bring Pete.”

I can see the angles she’s working.She’ll entertain the board position if Pete considers using his connections for Toby.I play the buffer and everyone ends up happy.My skin itches at the idea of spending more time with this beautiful pair of artists, but I can’t refuse—I’d be a terrible friend to Pete if I did.And maybe with exposure, my oddly intense reaction to Toby Wheaton will fade away.

“I’d be delighted.”

Four

It’s cooler Saturday,and I keep the top up on my convertible.I pick up Pete from his place, then find Ivy and Toby’s house with help from my map app.They’re on the Art Center side of town, on a dead-end, tree-lined street called Ashby Lane.I keep a pretty close eye on Rosedale real estate as a hobby and don’t remember this house going on the market, so I assume it’s a rental.

It’s just after noon when we pull into their short driveway.I park behind a modern silver hybrid and a boxy station wagon that’s mostly white and at least thirty years old.It’s not difficult to identify the efficient, stylish car as Ivy’s while assigning ownership of the rusty wagon to her other half.

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