Page 53 of The Summer House
Nineteen
“I’m smitten with Aiden,” Olivia said the next morning, sitting beside Callie at the kitchen table, her eyebrows bouncing up and down as she held her cup of coffee in front of her face as if she were hiding behind it, the mere thought of Aiden making her cheeks rosy. But then her face dropped. “But I’m worried,” she said before Callie could get excited for her.
“About what?” Callie scooted her chair closer and then stirred her coffee. She set the spoon down beside her mug, her eyes on Olivia.
“He’s a wonderful man. I’ve known him for ages…”
“I know he really likes you, Olivia. It isn’t hard to tell.”
Olivia nodded. “But what if I let myself fall for him and then it doesn’t work out? What would that do to Wyatt? He doesn’t have a great experience with men already because of his dad, and I know he’ll love Aiden. I wouldn’t want to take that away if something happened between us. It could cause a rift between me and Wyatt, and I don’t know if I could live with that.” She took in a deep breath and let it out, her elbows on the table. “It’s almost not worth the risk, you know?”
Callie put her hand on Olivia’s arm. “You’re a great mother,” she said. “You look out for Wyatt, and you do everything for him that you can. But you can’t foresee every obstacle. What if you denied him someone who could raise him like a father, someone who would be around for the rest of his life? What if you denied him that because of fear? Just take it slowly—day by day. You’ll know what you feel and you’ll know what to do. But don’t let fear keep you and Wyatt from the happiness you both deserve.”
Olivia got up and wrapped her arms around Callie. “Thank you. You always know the right things to say to me. I’m still not sure, but you’ve given me something to think about.”
“If there’s one thing I’m realizing, it’s to just let things happen. You don’t have to have it all figured out right now.” Callie downed the rest of her coffee and stood up. “I need to work!” she said with dramatic flair. “I have spackling to do!”
There wasa knock at the door, and Callie stopped spackling the old picture holes in the drywall upstairs, sharpening her hearing. The furniture had already been delivered and it was still a little early in the day for visitors. The only people here were the crew. They’d started early and cut the power again for the final time.
“Callie!” Olivia called up to her. “Frederick McFarlin’s here!”
Frozen, Callie wondered if she could find some reason to stay exactly where she was. She’d lain awake all night, not knowing what to do and scolding herself for prying. It was times like these that she wished she had her mother to talk to. Her grandmother had always known how to listen—why hadn’t her mother? Why couldn’t she have just picked up the phone and told her how all this was eating her alive? And now Frederick was here. Did it mean he had changed his mind about the mural?
“Callie?”
“Coming!” she said, getting the spackle off her thumb and wiping her hands on her shirt.
When she got to the bottom of the stairs, she found Frederick, holding a large box that she guessed contained paint and other art supplies and a large, flat leather bag. “I thought I’d paint that mural for you,” he said, his eyes flickering, his nerves showing.
She nodded and smiled, a pinch forming in her shoulder all of a sudden.
“Wow. You’ve changed this place. I feel like I’m somewhere completely different.” His chest filled with air and he looked relieved.
“Olivia,” Callie said, just realizing she’d left her friend standing there in the dark. “Frederick McFarlin is an artist and he’s going to paint our mural.”
“Oh!” Olivia shook his hand. She flicked a confused look Callie’s way while keeping the smile on her face. “Excellent! So nice to meet you.”
“I’ll show him around.”
Callie led Frederick into the formal living room as Olivia mouthedWhat is going on?behind his back and Callie just shook her head. She’d explain later. If she could think of how to explain without giving everything away.
“So, what were you thinking?” asked Frederick.
“I’d like the light blue I’ve painted to bleed into the sky, but a very subtle beach scene—maybe some sand and seashells or something—along the bottom here.”
Frederick set down his paints and scrutinized the wall, while Callie stood beside him, lightheaded with anxiety.
Callie had letFrederick work while she finished what she had to do upstairs. When she was done, she stopped in the hallway, peering into the formal living room, a thrill running through her like an electric current. “Wow,” she said as Frederick sponged on a few shadows in the sand. “That’s absolutely amazing.”
“Thank you,” he said with a grin, his eyes still on the mural. “It’s only sand.”
“I know, but it looks so real.” She walked in and kneeled down beside him.
“I worried I might be rusty,” he admitted, mixing more taupe to the yellow on his palate. “But it’s like riding a bike: just get back on and go.” He examined the color and then added some white. “You know, once, I did a mural for a lady who owned a beach shop. She came in and started sobbing. I nearly had a heart attack. Luckily, her tears were out of happiness. I’ve never been so relieved in all my life,” he said with a chuckle.
“Haha. Have you painted a lot?”
“Ah, not too much. I prefer drawings to murals really. I don’t let anyone see them until I’m finished. There’s something about the seclusion—just my eyes and my pencil on the page—until I’m ready to show someone. Sometimes I don’t show anyone at all. It feels more personal to me. Sometimes I showed Alice.”
