Page 102 of The Seaside Homecoming
Mira shook her head, giggling. “It’s too big! His whole face is big. But I like it.”
“Excellent. And his coloring?”
“His what?”
“His skin and hair—are they likeAmma’s?”
When Mira shrugged, Sonali answered in her stead, “He is darker.”
Mr. Filonov sketched for some time in silence, now and again consulting the miniature or pausing to study the faces before him.
Finally, he held out his sketch to Mira. “Is only a beginning, but tell me... does it look at all like youramma?”
“Yes!” Mira replied. “Except her eyes, her eyes were more...”
“More what...?” he prompted.
“Happy.” She turned to her father. “Were they not, Papa?”
“I suppose they were. After all, when you saw her eyes, she was looking at you. And who could not be happy then?”
Mr. Filonov made a few adjustments. “Very good. All for now. Next comes easel, brush, and paint.”
There were fewer people around Sea View’s dining table that night—intentionally so.
Meals with Mr. Craven and his sisters were unpleasant affairs that strained Mamma’s nerves and Emily’s self-control. When they had initially discussed the idea of serving dinner to these guests every night, Mamma had told Sarah the decision was hers. Sarah, who had always been the most determined to make the guest house a success, now questioned that decision.
She waited at the sideboard, prepared to help Mr. Gwilt serve, while Jessie stood ready to clear away.
At the table sat Mrs. Harding, Mr. Craven, Miss Craven, and Simon Hornbeam.
When they began serving the first course, Mrs. Harding glanced up at Sarah in question.
“Are we not to have the pleasure of your family’s company tonight?”
Mr. Craven smirked. “Something we said?”
“My mother is not feeling”—equal to another meal with you—“very well. She is having dinner in her room with Georgiana.”
“And the beautiful Emily?” he asked.
“She and her husband are dining at Westmount tonight.”
“Afraid you must make do with my company,” Mr. Hornbeam said with an easy grin. “And of course Miss Sarah’s, Jessie’s, and Mr. Gwilt’s. At least it’s roast beef and Yorkshire puddings tonight. You are in for a treat.”
Miss Craven managed a polite smile, perhaps realizing too late the man could not see the gesture.
Her brother, meanwhile, poured liquid from a pocket flask into his water glass and downed it in a single swallow.
Mrs. Harding sipped her soup, then eyed Mr. Hornbeam with interest, her scrutiny rather bold, free of concern of being thought rude.
“Mr. Hornbeam, is it?”
He turned toward her voice. “That’s right.”
“And you have been a guest here for some time?”
“Since last summer. My grown son was due to meet me here but went to Brighton instead. I find Sidmouth suits me. Sea View and the Summers family suit me as well.”
