I couldn't help feeling we had grown closer
because of this project and I hated to do anything that
might threaten our relationship. Little betrayals,
indiscretions, and lies eventually tore down a
foundation of love and friendship, I thought. I had
enough evidence of that, and now, because of how
things were going between us, I regretted permitting
Cary to take off the lock on Kenneth's storage room so
that we could invade his private and secret cache of
paintings, even if they were paintings of my mother
and stirred more mystery.
I continued to clean and organize the studio, but
my attention kept returning to the drawing table. What
harm would one peek do? I thought. Surely, if
Kenneth really wanted me not to look, he would have
said something. I listened for him, heard nothing, and
returned to the drawing table. Slowly, I lifted the sheet
and gazed at the first drawing.
There was far more detail in my face than I had
anticipated. This was more than a sketch, but the face
I saw on the paper looked more like my mother's face
than it did mine. At least, I thought it did, and that
&nb
sp; caused me to drop the sheet quickly when I heard
Kenneth's footsteps. He entered just as I moved away. His eyes shifted from the table to me and then back to
the table.
"Well," he said, crossing the studio, "you've got
this place looking proper again. Makes me feel guilty
every time I mess it up," he said with a smile. He
paused at the table and lifted the sheet. "What do you