The Sky Beneath My Feet - By Lisa Samson Page 0,51

me like I’m a great disappointment. Whatever sympathy I might have had for desert fathers dries up in the heat of that painted glare.

“If the boys miss him,” I say, “they can feast their eyes on that.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Roy wincing. Holly touches my back as if to steady me. But Deedee, whom you might expect to take offense at this jibe, seems delighted. She comes around the island and gives me a hug. “You’ve got spirit, you know that?”

The thing is, silly as it is, knowing the kind of prices Deedee’s artwork is supposed to fetch, I’ve always had this daydream of her presenting me with something. I have never collected art, but I do appreciate it. I don’t go to museums because there’s never enough time to do them justice, not because I’m a philistine. Moral of the story: be careful what you wish for.

Roy wasn’t kidding about Rick ending up in the mural, I guess.

“This is really generous of you, Deedee. Thank you. I mean it.”

“It’s only a study, like I said, and I’m not sure I’m happy with the expression yet. But I’m getting there, Elizabeth. I have the germ.”

Meaning, she has the idea, not some kind of virus.

Jed arrives. Eli and Damon come down. Instead of acting the part of graceless teen, Eli brightens when he sees the size of the audience, deciding to turn on the charm. He recognizes the subject of the painting immediately and thanks Deedee profusely. You’d think he had spent the last few days in agony, wishing he had a portrait of his father in the get-up of some medieval saint to hang over the mantel. The messenger bag from Holly is just what he needed too. He goes straight into the living room with it, emptying the contents of his backpack right into the new case.

Even I get the special treatment. He shucks off his old shoes and puts on the black Nikes right in the kitchen. “They feel like they were made for my feet.”

“I’m the one who picked them,” Jed says. “Mom wanted to get you Reeboks.”

“You said he wanted Crocs!”

We all laugh, and I realize the non-party hasn’t gone off the rails. Even the cake is tasty, good enough that I finish a whole slice.

The crazy has been contained and everyone seems happy. Holly winks, reading my mind. Sometimes the volcano smokes and doesn’t erupt.

“Am I interrupting?”

Rick’s voice. I turn toward the sound. He stands in the threshold, holding a plastic bag in two hands, several days’ worth of stubble on his cheeks. He nods to everyone, edging into the kitchen, holding the bag out to Eli. Our son reaches inside, removing an open-faced cardboard display box with something shiny and brown inside. Eli’s eyes light up with astonishment, a real reaction that gives the lie to his earlier act. He has to use scissors to cut the ties holding whatever Rick’s given him into the box.

As he wrestles with the package, I study my husband, a familiar-looking stranger. He returns my look, then notices something on the counter. His eyes dart to the painting, then back to me. He does a double take.

“Dad,” Eli says, “this is amazing.”

“I’m . . .” Rick can’t take his eyes off that painting. “I’m glad you like it.”

And Eli does like it. He wrenches the final tie free and holds his present up for everyone to see. He might as well be clutching a trophy.

“That’s nice,” Deedee says. Then, turning to Roy: “What is it?”

“A Brooks saddle,” Eli says. “It’s the one with the copper rivets.” He turns it over in his hand. “And copper rails!”

“It’s a seat for his bike,” Jed explains to a still-baffled Deedee.

Rick tears his eyes away from the painting. Dazed. He moves closer to me, close enough that we could touch if either one of us were so inclined.

“You see that, right?” he says.

“What, the painting? Deedee did it.”

He exhales in relief. “I thought I was going nuts,” he says, then shuffles away to Eli’s side.

The party breaks up when Eli goes outside with Damon to replace the old seat on his bike with this gleaming new one. Jed is telling the rest of us more than we’d ever want to know about bicycle saddles. Suffice it to say, this is the best of the best. Rick must have gotten it when he took Eli’s tire in to be repaired. I had assumed he would ignore his son’s