on the sea of grass in the lower right-hand corner of the mural. I was getting closer and closer to Anna Dale’s signature, which I would save for last. It was going to feel so good to work on those rounded gold-hued letters in the handwriting that was now as familiar to me as my own.
Shortly after midnight, I pulled out my earbuds to listen. Everything was still. The hammering had stopped in the back rooms. I heard truck doors slam outside and knew Adam and Wyatt had left the gallery through the rear door. In another minute, Oliver walked into the foyer.
“Time to go home,” he said to me.
“I’m going to keep working.”
He looked from me to the mural. “It’s late. You’re exhausted. Come on. You can come back early in the morning.” He nodded toward the front door of the foyer. “I’ll drive you back to Lisa’s.”
“I need the time,” I said.
“You’ll only start screwing it up if you keep at it tonight.”
I looked at the grass of the Mill Village. It was nothing more than a blur of green to my exhausted eyes. He was right.
“Okay,” I said.
He waited while I cleaned my brushes. Then we walked out to his van side by side.
“Had a long talk with my son today,” he said, once we were on the road.
“About Smith Mountain Lake versus Disney World?”
He hesitated. “More about ‘Dad versus John, his stepdad,’” he said, turning onto Broad Street. “It was pretty deep. He told me he feels guilty because he realized he loves John.”
I reached over to touch his arm. I felt a tenderness toward him as well as sympathy for Nathan. “What did you say?” I asked.
“I told him he never has to feel guilty about loving someone.”
I smiled to myself. “Great answer,” I said. “Was it hard to hear, though? That he loves John?”
“Yes and no.” He glanced at me as he made the turn onto Lisa’s street. “For obvious reasons. I wish I could be his only father figure, but I want my kid to be happy. The more good people he has in his life, the better.”
“Oh, Oliver.” I suddenly thought I was going to cry. God, I was tired! “He’s so lucky to have you as his dad,” I said. “You’re so … tolerant and forgiving.”
He gave me a rueful smile, barely visible in the dark. “Well, I don’t know about that,” he said. “I told him next year it’s Smith Mountain Lake with his old man, or I’ll disinherit him.”
I smiled as he pulled the van into Lisa’s driveway.
“Get a good night’s sleep,” he said, putting the van in park. “I’ll see you bright and early in the morning.”
“Okay.” I leaned across the console to kiss him on the cheek. I felt his hand on my bare shoulder. Felt his fingers trail down my arm until they tightened—it was not my imagination—around my elbow. There was something more than friendship in that touch, and when I drew away, I didn’t reach for the door handle, hoping against hope that he’d kiss me and feeling too uncertain to take the lead myself. But he only smiled, touching my cheek with the back of his fingers. I wondered if he knew he was driving me crazy or if I was reading him all wrong and he wasn’t the least bit interested in me that way. Either way, by the time I got out of the van, I was almost dizzy with hunger for him.
Starting up the long sidewalk to the front door, I stopped to look at the only lighted window in the house: Lisa’s second-story bedroom. She was usually in bed early, and I knew it was worry keeping her up.
“Hey, Morgan?” Oliver called from his van window. “You all right?”
I hadn’t realized he’d been waiting for me to get safely inside. I smiled, the warmth of his touch on my cheek still with me. I waved him on. Then I walked up the steps and into the house, heading for my dark sunroom and a very short night’s sleep.
Chapter 61
August 4, 2018
Oliver sat at his folding table, slipping the various wall texts into their plastic frames, when I arrived at the gallery in the morning. I’d slept right through my alarm, but still managed to get there by seven thirty, eating a blueberry muffin along the way. I took out my earbuds to exchange a “hello” with him. I found it a little hard to hold his gaze this morning,