Page 9 of 3rd Tango
“Hello,” Charlie says.
Marie smiles and I sense a willowy easiness in her that immediately puts me at ease. Artsy people. We have that gift. The dimple in her left cheek doesn’t hurt.
She shifts her gaze to me. For a few seconds, she studies me with narrowed eyes and I nod, pointing at one of the watercolors. “I love this.”
“Thank you. It’s the George Washington bridge.”
“Is that the Little Red Lighthouse?”
Wide-eyed surprise lights her face. “You know it? How wonderful.”
As a kid, my mother would read me a children’s book about the Little Red Lighthouse along Manhattan’s Hudson River. To this day, it’s my favorite.
Marie’s gaze ping-pong’s between Charlie and me. Something is up and my guess is she’s trying to figure out if she knows us.
“We both do.” Charlie eyes the painting. “It’s lovely. What’s the price?”
Okay. Lovely might be pushing it.
“Thank you. I paint them myself. That particular one is a hundred-and-twenty.”
I nearly choke. Reconnoitering notwithstanding, if my sister pays over a hundred dollars, I’ll kill her.
“Ooh,” Charlie says. “That’s out of my range.”
Marie nods then glances back at me. “I’m sorry I’m staring, but I’ve seen you before. In my neighborhood.” She points at Charlie. “You drive that nice car. You visit the people across the street.”
And, we’re busted. Nothing left to do now but roll with it. Pretend like it’s no big deal. Charlie will probably kill me, but we’re on a mission here. “They’re our parents,” I say. “I’m Meg Schock. This is my sister, Charlie. I’m an artist also. Our mother mentioned she saw your flyer about the art fair. We thought we’d check it out.”
Marie huffs. “Your mother spies on us.”
“Yes,” Charlie agrees, raising her eyebrows at me then turning her attention to Marie. “Sorry about that. We heard about the run-in with Gayle. Mom doesn’t mean any harm. She’s…protective…of the neighborhood. Likes to keep an eye on things.”
Marie’s gaze bounces between us again and I do my best to look thoroughly repentant on behalf of our mother.
“Well,” Marie let’s out a huff, “I suppose I can’t blame her for wanting to keep the town safe. You have to tell her to stop, though. It’s…rude. And we’re not interested in any trouble. We’re private people is all.”
Charlie holds up her hands. “We’re on it. I promise.”
I shift sideways, taking in the assortment of artwork.
Watercolors.
Landscapes.
I waggle my finger at the canvases. “Have you been to all these places?”
“Oh, yes.” Marie’s exuberance returns, the conversation about mom obviously smothered by my interest in the paintings. “I like lighthouses. My boyfriend says they’re ugly, but I feel at home near them.”
Gayle, I’m assuming. “Who doesn’t? They’re so rich in history.”
“Exactly!” She shoots me a grin. “Michigan has terrific ones.”
I store that in my memory bank. “I’ve never been, but with the Great Lakes, I’d imagine you could spend days discovering different lighthouses.”
She points at a painting of a white one at the end of a long pier. “This is in St. Joseph. I lived there for a summer. It’s my absolute favorite.”
“What does your boyfriend do while you’re visiting and painting them?” Charlie asks.
