Nathan's Child - By Anne McAllister Page 0,32
that if her show in New York was a success they might be able to take her work elsewhere. Carin had privately thought Stacia was aiming a little high.
It didn’t surprise her that Gabriela del Castillo was Nathan’s agent. It did surprise her that Sra del Castillo was humoring him about his staying on Pelican Cay. But maybe she would crack her whip after she’d been here a couple of days. Carin envisioned her as an elderly, ramrod-straight Spanish matron with snapping black eyes and an astute business mind.
“He showed her my photos,” Lacey said. “She liked them. She says I’m a chip off the old block. Maybe she’ll show my photos someday.”
“Maybe,” Carin said. “How long is she staying?”
“Dunno. They were going to The Grouper. He said he was going to take her out for a little local color.”
Carin grinned. “Well, I hope she enjoys it.”
It was hard to imagine a seventyish widow enjoying the steel band at The Grouper, but maybe Nathan was trying to broaden her horizons a little. “Is she staying at the Mirabelle?”
The Sand Dollar was a hip, yuppie spot on Pelican Cay while the quietly elegant Mirabelle, tucked away by a cove at the south end of the island, was the poshest small inn on the island. It was one of several that Hugh’s brother, Lachlan, had bought in the past year. The Mirabelle was where all the VIPs stayed when they came to Pelican Cay.
Lacey shook her head. “She’s staying at Dad’s.”
Carin was surprised to hear that. But then, maybe Sra del Castillo was a family friend. Perhaps she and her husband had been friends of Nathan’s father. Douglas had to be about seventy now. And from what Carin remembered of him, he had his finger in many pies. She wouldn’t be surprised if Sombra y Sol was one of them.
“Well, I’m sure she’ll find it comfortable and quiet,” she said. “She must be tired if she just arrived today.”
Lacey shrugged. “I guess.”
Carin yawned. “I’m tired, too. Time for bed. What time is your father picking you up tomorrow?” she asked as she shut off the light in the kitchen and shooed Zeno out onto the front porch.
“He’s not,” Lacey said as she climbed the stairs. “I’m going fishing with Lorenzo and Thomas.”
Carin stopped, one hand on the newel post. “What? Since when?”
Lacey looked back at her. “Dad called Thomas and asked. He and Gaby have work to do. They said I’d be bored. And Thomas said it was okay.”
“And he didn’t think to check with me?”
Lacey lifted her shoulders. “He said he didn’t want to bother you, on account of your painting and all.”
“So he imposed on Thomas?”
Lacey looked offended. “Thomas is glad I’m coming. He says I’m a ‘civilizing influence’ on Lorenzo.” She turned again and went up the steps.
Carin, following, shook her head. “I wonder. Well, I guess…if Thomas agreed. But I still think your father should have discussed it with me.”
“He says you never want to talk to him.”
It was true, of course, but galling that he had mentioned it to Lacey.
Still she went off to bed, heartened and blessing Gabriela del Castillo for her arrival. It wouldn’t be long now and Nathan would be gone. Carin felt better than she’d felt since Nathan had appeared back on Pelican Cay.
The morning went well. The painting went well.
Knowing that Lacey was with Thomas and Lorenzo and not with Nathan somehow freed up a little of her creativity. Knowing that Gabriela del Castillo was at this very moment most likely leaning on Nathan to get back to work freed up some more.
Carin actually got some work done after Lacey left in the morning.
It was the first time in a long long while that she’d been able to focus, to think, to feel as if she were “in a zone” as far as her work went. She even whistled while she worked, contemplating the departure of Nathan as she did so.
She would have worked straight on through the afternoon, but Elaine expected her to bring lunch. She had done it every day, using it as an excuse to check on things, to see how Elaine was doing, to answer any questions the young woman might have.
Ordinarily, too, it was a nice break because she was getting so little done that being allowed out of the studio for twenty minutes or so was a treat.
Today she grumbled as she assembled Elaine’s lunch and bundled it into the basket of her bicycle. It wasn’t