“Nothing’s wrong, boys,” she says. “I’m just a bit tired.”
“Been working hard?” Lee asks, and my mother nods.
“Actually, yes. I’ve been working with the art department at Starton University. We’re planning an event next month that should offer an incredible chance for some of the students to show off their artwork and to start learning about showcasing their work.”
“A noble endeavor,” I comment, but then my eyes slide from my mother’s gaze to her desk, where she has an open letter. She sees where I’m looking and quickly places a book on top of the letter so I can’t read it, but the damage has been done.
“You’re sick?” Lee says, his throat catching. “When were you going to tell us?”
Chapter Four
/> Natasha
Despite my annoyance at what happened with the gem, I manage to sleep soundly, make a wonderful breakfast for my daughter, and get her in the car on time. As I drive her to school, we make small talk about her friends and her homework. She chats easily, telling me all about her day, and I don’t have to feign interest in what she’s talking about. Rebecca is a cool kid and I’m more than a little proud to call her my daughter.
We hit a little bit of traffic and we’re at a standstill when Rebecca asks if she can have a notebook and pen. She loves drawing, so it’s no hardship to direct her to my bag. I usually carry a few items for her to use for crafts or crafting. Today, though, when Rebecca reaches for my bag, she doesn’t pull out a notebook.
She pulls out one of the portraits I took last night.
“What’s this? He’s handsome,” she says, running her fingers over the picture.
“Oh, shit,” I say. Rebecca’s eyes shoot up to me and I fake a smile. “Sorry, honey. I just forgot I left those in here,” I say. I’m not sure how I could have forgotten. Maybe because I wanted to.
I feel bad about taking the pictures and I’m not even really sure why.
Was it spite that urged me to grab them?
Maybe.
Yeah, it was definitely spite.
It’s just that Emily shouldn’t have tricked me. She had no right to. I’m not the moral police, by any means, but why had she tried to pay me to steal something that she already owned? When I realized what was happening, I felt tricked and betrayed on so many levels that nothing was making much sense anymore. I guess I had just felt really bothered by realizing that I was the last person to know who she was.
Still, taking the pictures had been shallow.
Those are obviously her sons.
She’s told me about them before. Usually, I don’t talk with my clients about anything personal, yet somehow, at our meetings, I found myself opening up to Emily in ways I never did with others. She has three sons and I have a daughter, so we have quite a bit in common as far as parenting. We’re both widows, which gives us another something in common.
But that is where the similarities ended.
Emily is rich.
I’m not.
Emily works hard.
I’m a thief.
Emily has triplets.
I have a single child.
Emily’s sons are boys.
Mine is a girl.
Emily is brave.