thinking. Surely he could have disengaged himself from his world for a few hours. Guess not.
He glanced around the room at all the paintings. Lark had her signature at the bottom of many of them. Everett studied a wedding scene, which appeared to be set in the Ozark Mountains. A bride and her groom kissed in front of a quaint chapel with all the wedding party gazing on in delight. He was amazed at how much joy and laughter filled her paintings.
Then he took note of a still life of fruit. Incredible! It looked so visually accurate, it seemed as if he could reach in and remove one of the apples. Lark had an amazing talent. It made him think of his sister, Greta. He shook his head and moved on.
Lark had some prints of the masters on display as well as her own. He recognized the Mona Lisa. The woman certainly had an interesting expression. In fact, it reminded him just a bit of Larkspur’s winsome smile.
The living room was also full of family photos. He walked over to the fireplace and picked up a framed photo off the mantle. In the picture Lark seemed to be in her late teens, and she stood between an older couple. Had to be her parents. She had her mother’s eyes and her father’s light, olive skin. Lark appeared cheery then, as well. Maybe even more so. Her parents held her in a close hug as if she were a treasure. Anyone could tell they loved each other very much. He wondered if Lark’s parents lived in Eureka Springs and if she visited with them a lot.
Everett looked at his watch. He thought it was a shame on one of his rare evenings out he’d be forced to share his date with a crowd of people, some of whom would be strangers. The minute they’d see the dazzling Lark, they’d be slinking over for introductions. And then Zeta would want to have her chunk of Lark’s time.
Funny how life changes. Only a few days ago, he would have cooked up ways to avoid Lark and, well, all of humanity in general. But something felt different inside him. Something had willingly shifted, yet he also felt the uneasy kind of mental jostling that tends to drive a numbers-junkie toward the edge. But then maybe he’d forgotten that the view outside his precise perimeters was far more interesting. Without thinking, his hand went to his heart. He just hoped Lark came with a survival guide.
Everett puttered around a bookshelf, noting the dust on the shelves and the rows of children’s books. He pulled a few books out until he found one Lark had illustrated. In a Giddy Pickle. Intriguing title. He studied the cover and then the drawings inside. There could be no doubt; she had a God-given talent.
Lark stepped out from her bedroom and sort of swished toward him in a long dress.
Everett’s hand went right back to his heart. “Oh, wow.”
Once in front of him, Lark grasped the sides of her dress and swirled around in a circle.
She is a vision as they say. A beautiful apparition in blue. He wasn’t even sure he could describe the radiance of the color of her dress, so he just stared for a moment as he tried to think of what to say. “Your gown. It looks like the wings of a butterfly. You know the iridescent. . .dust stuff?” Oh brother. Maybe I should have just used an old standby. “You look beautiful,” Everett said with all the sincerity he could surrender. It must have been the right words because a lovely smile started on Lark’s lips and then lit up her whole face.
“And you look very handsome in your tux,” Lark said.
“Thank you. I rarely use it.” He held up Lark’s book in his hands. “This is brilliant.”
“Thanks.” She bit her lower lip and said no more.
“Do you have a coat?”
“Yes. It would be nice to wear it for a change.” Lark opened the hall closet, and she handed him a black, velvet cape. Once he’d wrapped the softness around her shoulders, he wanted to hold her close, but he kept telling himself timing was everything. He stepped away to safer ground and cleared his throat again. At this rate, his throat would be sore in ten minutes.
There would be a hug and maybe a kiss or two if all went well. He hoped it would. Not just for the kiss, but because