Page 105 of Drawing Home
Bea found herself dressing with extra care. She wanted to look nice, but not too “done.” Still, no matter how hard she tried, she would never fit in with the town’s impossibly casual aesthetic; she would make it to her grave without ever having worn yoga pants or a sweatshirt. But she felt compelled to put forward a softer look. She chose a pair of navy slacks from Carolina Herrera’s resort collection. They were embellished with birds. She paired the pants with a white, lightweight knit top and a gauzy wrap. It was as casual as she could get.
She told herself she was just trying to make her life simpler, to finally get into country living mode after all these weeks. That it had nothing to do with her visitor that afternoon.
“Hello there, Bea,” said Angus, easing a large box into the foyer. “Where would you like these?”
Back at the other house. Oh, she was trying to be less negative. Really, she was. “Do you want me to see if Kyle is around to help?” she said. “You shouldn’t be lifting all of this.”
As soon as she made the offer, she remembered, yet again, that Kyle was no longer at her disposal. She had driven him off, perhaps prematurely. It was her way. And it was regrettable.
“I’m just going to leave them right here until Emma gets back,” Angus said.
Great. Now the front hall was a cluttered mess. “That’s fine,” said Bea.
“Is Penny here? I haven’t seen her in a few days.”
“Emma dropped her at the bookstore while she’s doing her errands in town,” Bea told him regretfully, not wanting him to leave. She didn’t know what to make of the urgent feeling of wanting his company, but she listened to it. “I brewed some peach tea and it should be chilled by now. I bought it from that organic place on the corner of Bay Street. Come have some.”
“I don’t want to impose…”
“Angus,” she said. “Please stop being polite with me. I’d like to think that we’re friends.”
He smiled, and something deep inside of her began to thaw. She could feel it, like a loosening muscle. And it struck her, faced with all the boxes, that Angus was about to become homeless.
“May I ask where you plan to move once you vacate your current house?”
“I’m working on a few options. Until I find something permanent, I’ll be staying in one of the rooms upstairs at the whaling museum.”
In the kitchen, she noted that he sat in the exact same spot at the island that he’d chosen the day Emma got served with the court papers. The thought made her shudder. If he ever found out about her role in that…
Shaking the thought away, she pulled two glasses from the cabinet and sliced a lemon, a lime, and an orange. When she set the pitcher of tea and the sliced fruit in front of him he said, “That’s a lot of citrus.”
“I got in the habit from the tea at the Golden Pear,” she said. “The way they do it is quite lovely.”
“I agree,” he said.
They sat in congenial silence for a few moments. She felt an unusual pressing need for him to think kindly of her. She didn’t understand it, but it prompted her to say, “Angus, you should consider moving in here. Kyle has left—there’s plenty of room. And I’m sure it would make Emma happy.”
He shook his head. “I think you moving out would make Emma happy.”
“Yes, well, I have news for you. One person does not mind having me around: Penny. I’ve proven to be great fodder for her art.”
“Fodder?” he said.
“Yes. Are you aware of her graphic novel?” The look on his face told her he’d had no idea. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
She took the stairs to her room. Last night, she’d pored over Penny’s drawings and selected a few pages for Penny to submit for her contest. But she was not ready to hand it all back over to her. Instead, she had placed it side by side with Henry’s book, certain there was something she was missing. It nagged at her all night. At four in the morning, she began flipping through them both, and she’d kept at it until the sun came up.
She went back down the stairs. Her body ached but her mind, her spirit, felt lighter. Oh, to share this puzzle with someone else! What a relief.
She moved the tea pitcher out of the way and wiped condensation from the marble surface before setting down both manuscripts. “Penny has been working on this since she moved in,” Bea said, sliding her work over to him. “Be careful, the pages are loose.”
“Queen Bea,”he said, raising an eyebrow.
“She has quite a sensibility,” Bea said.
“I know she’s constantly reading these graphic books, but I didn’t realize she’d set out to write one of her own.”
“I think Henry encouraged her. They were working on them last summer. In fact, he finished one himself. I found it at the library. And I want to show you something in it.” She flipped to the back of the book where Henry had written their conversation about the house becoming a museum. “See? I didn’t make this up. I’m not the villain here.”Except in Penny’s novel, of course.
