Page 30 of A Small Town Spring

“I can’t believe how pretty it is.Babe, it’s our home.”

“And is that Cleo?It’s Cleo!”

“Cleo.God.Toby.It’s amazing.Thank you.”

I let myself relax.They like it.Pete puts his hands out and I transfer the painting to his care.“You’re welcome, guys.You’ve been so kind to me, both of you.”

“It’s such a lovely memento,” Jack says.

“Wait ’til you see mine.”Kingston’s suddenly there.When did he arrive?I smile at him and he smiles back.The party suddenly seems much more enjoyable.“But yours is nice, too.”

“So you’re like a painter, painter,” Charlie says, his face oddly red.

“Yes?”I respond uncertainly.

“I thought you meant house painter, not painter of houses,” he says, sounding embarrassed.

“Oh!That’s my bad.Maybe I should have said artist?”

“You’re definitely that,” Charlie says, looking more closely at the painting in Pete’s big hands.“That’s impressive.”

“I like painting houses that have souls.”

“Then you actually do have to paint our house,” Charlie says.“It’s this old farmhouse, and it has soul up to the chimney.But maybe wait until we actually get the outside painted by an actual house painter.”

“I can give you a name for that, Charlie,” Pete says.

“But maybe I should take pictures of it the way it is now,” I suggest.“The painting might be more interesting if the subject is less polished.”

“Whatever you think is best.Wow, this is really cool.So this is your deal—you paint houses?”

“Among other things,” I say.

“By the way, I’m free tomorrow,” Pete says to me.“Early afternoon?”

My gut lurches when I realize he’s talking about the curation we need to do to prepare for Fernanda’s visit to my studio.“Okay, thanks.”

“Now, where should I put this masterpiece?”he says.“I want everyone to be able to see it.”

“It’s still a little wet,” I caution.“I’d put it out of reach, especially of the animals.”

Pete takes the painting inside to find it a safe home, and Jack gives me an unexpected hug, then leaves his hand on my shoulder so he can look into my eyes with his green ones.“It’s perfect.Thank you, Toby.”

“You’re welcome.”In my peripheral vision, I catch Kingston looking at us with a funny expression on his face.“Thanks again.Pete’s been a rock for me this summer.”

“He’s been where you’re at,” Jack says.“It’s all good.The world needs your art.”

I laugh.“I think I read that on a bumper sticker.”

“Doesn’t make it not true,” Jack says, unoffended by my flip remark.He turns to fuss over the buffet.“Time to eat, people!”

“Sounds like you have another commission in the works,” Kingston says.

“Maybe,” I say.“I’ll run out of Rosedale houses, eventually.”

“You’re going to be too big for Rosedale soon enough,” he says.

“What do you mean?”

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