Larkspur Dreams - By Anita Higman Page 0,25
better keep his eyes on the road.
“Yes. I’ve been painting with oils for a long time now. That’s my true passion. I nearly have enough pieces for a show. But I just need more time before I let someone see them. I mean someone from a gallery, that is. Change is always a little scary.” Lark smiled but without her usual enthusiasm.
“That doesn’t really sound like you.” Did he know her well enough to say those kinds of things? “The oil paintings I saw in your office and living room are extraordinary.” Just as you are, he wanted to add, but thought it might sound too cheesy. “I’m not an artist, but I think you should share your gift with the world.”
Lark looked at him as if he’d said something shocking. “I can’t believe what you just said. It’s the same thing my best friend told me.” She folded her hands in her lap. “I guess I should listen. It’s true, I would be free to follow my own vision rather than follow someone’s text. Although illustrating has been good work.” She fingered her pearl bracelet.
Everett wondered if the pearls were a gift from her biker friend.
“I’d love to know all about your mom and dad,” Lark said.
Everett could tell she wasn’t just making obligatory date conversation, but he would have given up his whole CD collection if Lark hadn’t asked that one question. He generally didn’t go out with a woman more than once or twice, so it rarely came up.
“You don’t have to talk about it.” Lark licked her lips. “I understand.”
Everett doubted Lark could identify with his situation, but he felt it was good of her to let it go. He mulled over Lark’s question again while he listened quietly to the music. He had to admit, her question had been a sincere one, and he suddenly felt compelled to give her an answer. “My parents and sister died some years ago. Car accident. Icy roads.” He switched the music off.
Silence filled the car. Everett knew why people shouldn’t talk about such topics. What could be accomplished by dredging up misery? The pain needed to stay buried.
Lark reached out and touched his arm. “That’s how I lost my parents, too.”
“Really? What? I mean, did I hear you right?” Everett asked. Oh brother. He’d lost all his smooth conversation skills.
“My dad sold insurance here. He never made a fortune, but people loved him. And my mom and I were best friends. We always laughed a lot and sang songs together. Until a drunk driver snatched them away from me. The two great loves of my life gone instantly.”
Everett swallowed hard. He’d had no idea. “I’m very sorry, Lark.” Maybe she really did understand. At least about the loss.
“I miss them.” Lark stared out the window.
Perhaps she expected his sad story in return. But if timing were everything, this wasn’t it. In fact, he couldn’t be certain the time would ever be right.
She smiled. “But I know where my parents are. So I try to do as they would do: grieve a little and live at lot.” Lark laughed. “Believe me, that is so my mother.” She shook her head and smiled as if she were remembering them again.
Everett tried not to grimace. How could she be so glib about it? Or had she simply made peace with the circumstances? He breathed a sigh of relief when the hotel came into view.
“I’ve been to The Majestic a few times over the years,” Lark said. “The hotel was built in 1887, but I think it’s still so lovely. Just like the whole area. Did you know we’re called Little Switzerland of America, and that we’re—” She chuckled. “Sorry, I get carried away.”
Everett pulled under the porte cochere. “No, I just think you love living here.”
“I grew up in the Ozark Valley. It’s truly my home.” Lark touched the window as she gazed beyond the hotel.
He wondered how it felt to have such passion for a place.
A parking attendant suddenly appeared out of nowhere and rushed over to open Lark’s door. When Everett got to her side, he offered his arm, feeling good he hadn’t become a total thug over the years.
Lark circled her arm through his. “Thank you.”
They strolled to the entrance as two doormen opened the massive, beveled-glass doors. Elegance seemed to usher them in as they stepped into the foyer. Expensive tapestries lined the walls, and silk rugs adorned marble floors. Everett felt himself nodding his approval.
Lark gazed