Big Lies in a Small Town - Diane Chamberlain Page 0,101
Something about going against her father’s will, and—”
“I love it, Rebecca,” I interrupted her. “I love what I’m doing with the mural. Restoring it. It’s challenging, and when you see what you’ve done, and you see a bit of the picture go back to the way Anna—the artist—intended … It’s so rewarding.”
“How will you be able to work with your ankle like this?” Rebecca pointed toward the walking boot.
“I don’t know, but I’ll find a way,” I said. “Seriously, I will. My ankle is going to heal one way or another. Maybe it’ll take a week longer if I don’t keep it elevated every minute, but I don’t care. It’ll heal eventually. I cannot lose this job!”
Rebecca hesitated, looking at the papers on her desk. “I believe you,” she said. “I guess you just need to convince Lisa you can keep at it.” She looked up at me. “And how about an AA meeting tonight?”
“Fine,” I said, shoulders slumping. I felt overwhelmed. I needed sleep tonight more than I needed a meeting, but I would agree to anything at that moment to be able to get back to work and keep Lisa happy. “Can I go now?” I asked, wincing as I got to my feet.
She nodded. Gave me a half smile. “No more bars, all right?”
“No more bars,” I agreed, and I half hopped, half walked out of the room.
I’d taken an Uber to Rebecca’s office and now I called another to drive me to the gallery. I wouldn’t be walking anywhere for a while. When I arrived at the gallery, Oliver, Adam, and Wyatt were in the foyer, crouched on the floor as they examined a cracked tile near the folding table, and it was clear to me that Adam and Wyatt knew what had happened. The smell of the white wall paint that was being used throughout the gallery seared my nostrils.
“Here she is!” Adam looked up from the floor. “How’re you doin’? Oliver said you spent the night in the ER.”
“I’m fine,” I said, as I hobbled over to the mural. Damn, my ankle hurt! I could barely read the labels on my paint bottles for the pain.
“Looks like you haven’t slept in a week,” Wyatt said.
Great, I thought.
“How’re you going to climb the ladder with that boot on?” Adam asked.
“Leave her alone, guys.” Oliver got to his feet with the broken tile in his hands. “Let’s focus on replacing this tile, all right?” He handed the pieces to Wyatt, then walked over to me and spoke to me in a whisper. “How’re you doing?”
I nodded. “All right,” I said, whispering back. “Lisa’s angry with me, though. She called my PO. Even talked about firing me.”
“That’s crazy,” he said. “None of it was your fault. And we’ll find a way for you to keep working. I’ll talk to her.”
“No, don’t,” I said, my hand on his arm. I loved having an excuse to touch him. “Might make things worse.”
He hesitated, then nodded. He gestured toward the mural. “Why don’t you focus on everything that’s at chair level for a while,” he said. “It might be awkward, but maybe you can keep your ankle elevated that way. There’s a stool in my other office … my real office down the hall … It should be the right height for you to rest your foot on. What do you think?”
I looked at the mural. The lumberjack’s perfect arm I’d created—or at least, the perfect arm Anna Dale had created and I’d re-created—gave me enormous pleasure, so much so that it nearly erased the misery of the night before. Lisa would consider replacing me? I couldn’t imagine losing this. This work. This joy. And if I lost my work on the mural, I’d also lose my freedom.
“Good idea,” I said to Oliver. “Thanks.”
Oliver disappeared into the interior of the building and returned a moment later with a short stool I recognized from his makeshift office. He set it down for me, then gave me a quick, gentle hug I wished would last longer.
“I would have missed you if Lisa let you go,” he said, and that tiny image of him grew a little bigger in the empty space of my heart.
Chapter 44
ANNA
March 14, 1940
Although there were still some very nippy days, spring definitely began early in Edenton. Quite suddenly, the little town felt like a different place. The waterfront was alive with fishing boats that glittered with herring, and the air near the wharf reeked quite nauseatingly of fish.