Lots of them.
Jack sat in the corner of the couch bringing Belle down by his side. His arm curved around her shoulders and he tucked her body into his.
The others settled too. Mom and Yasmin dragging chairs across the room and, Belle noticed belatedly, one of the chairs from in front of Jack’s desk somewhere between her falling asleep and waking up had been angled toward the couch.
Belle had no time to question this. Joy sat on the opposite end of the couch to Jack and Belle and Jack spoke.
“Lila tells us you drink tequila,” Jack said to Mom and Mom looked at him.
“I drink everything,” she replied honestly.
“I recommend you take something to calm your nerves,” Jack suggested. “At Lila’s advice, Mum has brought tequila.”
“Oo, I love tequila, especially at two o’clock in the afternoon. I’ll get the glasses,” Yasmin offered, jumped up and walked to a standing chest, the top of which she opened and there unfolded a veritable bar, including decanters filled with different coloured liquors and shiny, expensive-looking glasses of all shapes and sizes.
“Cool,” Belle whispered and felt Jack’s fingers give her shoulder a squeeze.
She decided not to look at him.
He would probably be smiling at her which would make her scalp tingle or her belly dip and Belle was pretty sure she’d had her quota of both of those for one day (in spades).
As Yasmin was pouring tequilas all around, though she poured something else for Joy, Jack declined and Belle, obviously, couldn’t partake, Elaine came in. She was rolling tray filled with sandwiches, bowls of potato chips, another bowl of salad, small glass pitchers filled with dressing, a large glass pitcher filled with iced water, a teapot, a coffee pot and a tray of cakes.
Belle was slowly but uncomfortably getting used to being waited on hand and foot. It made her feel weird especially when she went back to her room after breakfast to find her bed made, her dirty clothes carried away (only to be returned, cleaned and, if needed, pressed) and, quite often, fresh towels in her bathroom.
She had thought of talking to Jack about it.
Then she thought better of it and kept her peace.
They all dug into the food and drank their beverages and things calmed down considerably as partaking of food and beverages was wont to achieve.
Once Joy’s plate was clean, Jack ordered, “Mum, tell the story.” He paused, Joy opened her mouth to speak and Jack went on, “No embellishments.”
“The embellishments are the best part!” Yasmin protested.
“No embellishments,” Jack asserted.
“I don’t think I can do it without the embellishments,” Joy told Jack.
“Yes you can,” Jack told Joy.
“It’ll be boring,” Yasmin told Jack.
“Precisely,” Jack told Yasmin.
“Will someone please tell us something?” Lila demanded. “The weather is turning and I want to get to the hayloft to take some snapshots of The Point during a thunderstorm, if we get one, which it looks like we will.”
Everyone looked to the windows and saw that the sun was struggling against the thickening cloud cover. The clouds were no longer white but a threatening dark grey.
Belle loved sun and she loved snow and she loved rain but she especially loved thunderstorms.
She always had.
Belle so loved them, Lila always did one landscape in each series she painted during a thunderstorm or a fierce downpour. These she never sold but gave to Belle and most of them hung at the cottage while some of them Gram and Mom carted around from place to place because Belle’s cottage wasn’t that big.
They were even more famous than her other works because their existence was known but they weren’t sold, never viewed and, therefore, had acquired a mystique.
No one knew she painted them for Belle and no one knew Belle had most of them. Therefore no one knew they were, by far and away (in Belle’s mind), her grandmother’s best work.