“It’s enough.”
“Lucky me. I’d hate to be on your bad side.”
“Me too,” Christy said, a silk glove over a steel gauntlet.
“I heard that,” Leah said. “You’re strong enough to stand up to him, aren’t you?”
“Not really.”
“I think you are.”
“Mmm.”
“Well, you make him happy. And he’s gained weight, which is good.”
“Clean living,” I joked, and both girls looked at me. “Okay,” I said slowly. “I’ll shut up now.”
“Mmm, yes, dear.”
“He really is,” Leah said with a smile in her voice. “Happy. You are too, aren’t you?”
“Of course,” Christy said without thinking. Then, “What do you mean?”
“Just that I remember the first time I met you…”
“Back when you came to stay with him?” She phrased it as a question, but she probably remembered every detail like it was yesterday. She met my gaze and silently asked me not to give her away.
“Yes,” Leah said. Then she laughed. “I didn’t have a clue. I mean, I was so wrapped up in my own problems that I never even thought how it would affect you.”
“Why would you?” Christy asked.
“Because you loved him, even then.”
“No, it was only a crush,” she lied.
Leah snorted but was too polite to disagree openly. They fell silent. Christy started a fourth braid, thin like the others.
“You know,” Leah said at last, “she still loves him.”
“Who? Gina?”
“Who else?”
“I suppose.”
“But she wants him to be happy. You too. She told me. I mean, explicitly. She wanted me to tell you.”
Christy didn’t know what to say.
“Kara and my mom too,” Leah added. “Even my dad noticed how happy he is. They were a little surprised, though, especially when I told them we’d be staying here, at the Retreat, with you all.”
“Why?”
“They all thought he’d end up with Gina or me, so they were a little worried that you might not want to have anything to do with us.”
“That’s crazy,” Christy said, although it was automatic.
Leah was a good interviewer—she knew when to bide her time and let her subject work through her feelings.
“Fine, I suppose you’re right,” Christy said. “I don’t want him to see Gina. I won’t try to stop him, but…” She shrugged. “It’s different with you. I can’t explain it. It just is.”
“Is it because of us?” Leah asked. “You and me? Because there are plenty of women who look like me but aren’t me.”
Christy snorted softly to show what she thought of that.
“Thank you,” Leah said quietly. “I feel the same. That’s why I wanted to spend the night.”
Christy nodded.
“I mean, this afternoon was fun,” Leah continued, “but it wasn’t the same. I… wanted more.” She thought of something and smiled. “I’m not sure of what, though. More of Paul or more of you?”
“Where does one end and the other begin?” I said, and it was so appropriate that neither of them told me to be quiet.
“I think you’re right,” Leah said after a moment. “Maybe that’s it, what I couldn’t figure out.” She lapsed into silence and then said, “My mother’s right.”
Christy raised an eyebrow, but I spoke for both of us, “Oh?”
“Maybe I do interview people.”
I chuckled.
“I just don’t do a good job of it,” she lamented. “I mean, I had this whole list of questions, yet I haven’t asked one of them.”
“You’ve asked the important ones,” I said.
“You really think so?”
“Mmm.”
Christy finished the last thin braid. She drew all four of them together in the back and used a single band to hold them. She began a larger braid with Leah’s remaining hair. She kept it loose and finished quickly. Then she secured the end, twisted it up, and tucked it inside the loop of the smaller braids.
Leah’s dark, silken hair gathered in a wavy mass at the nape of her neck, and the braids at the side added an elegant touch. Her bangs hung to her eyebrows and curled under, while tendrils of longer hair framed her face.
“Paul, dear, will you bring me some bobby pins,” Christy said. “They’re on the dresser. My little hand mirror, too, please.” She explained to Leah, “Your hair’s too heavy to stay by itself.” Then she noticed that I still hadn’t moved. “Paul…?”
Leah gave me a self-conscious glance.
I shook myself.
“What? Is it that bad?”
Christy arched an eyebrow, a clear order to say something nice. I didn’t need to think very hard to come up with something.
“Heavenly.”
Leah misunderstood, and Christy’s eyebrow demanded something more descriptive.
“You look heavenly,” I said. “Stunning. Absolutely beautiful.”
“Seriously? I’m not wearing any makeup or anything.”
“You don’t need it,” Christy said. “Your skin’s flawless. And your bone structure is amazing.”
“Venus herself would be jealous,” I added.
“Now I know you’re lying,” Leah laughed, a bit nervously.
Christy nodded to me, and I hopped up. I handed her several bobby pins, and she used them to hold Leah’s lustrous hair in place.
“There. Now you can look without my hands in the way.”
I handed her the mirror.
“Oh, wow.” Leah studied herself from several angles.
“Do you mind if I draw you?” Christy asked.
“Oh, no,” Leah said, “I couldn’t.”
Christy didn’t argue directly. “Paul, dear…?”
“Coming right up.” I fetched her sketchbook from the nightstand on her side. “Pencil or charcoal?”
Christy tilted her head to the side. “Pencil, I think.”
I handed it to her.
“No, seriously,” Leah protested, “I couldn’t.”
“Nonsense,” I said. “The mirror doesn’t do you justice.”
“How can it not? I mean… it’s a mirror.”
“Trust me. Lie here.” I plumped a pillow and had her pose like Titian’s Venus of Urbino.
Christy began sketching, while Leah tried to relax. She knew she was beautiful and normally tried to downplay it, but posing for an artist was completely outside her comfort zone.
“Get used to it,” I told her. “Just imagine it’s a screen test or something. For the Nightly News.”
“I wouldn’t be nude, though. That’s the stuff of nightmares.”
“I dunno,” I joked, “‘Nudes at Eleven’ would probably have pretty good ratings.”
She snorted. “I want them to take me seriously.”
“They will! Okay, maybe not the guys who tune in just to jerk off—”
“All of them,” she laughed.
“Probably some women too.”
“I’m so sure!”
“Stop moving,” Christy commanded. “And you, stop making her laugh.”
“Yes, dear.”
“Wow, she’s serious,” Leah said.
“She is. She also has more talent in her little finger than I have in my whole body.”
“For real?”
“Yep. She created a piece last year that…”
We talked about art for nearly thirty minutes. Then Christy shook off her trance, and the room seemed to contract. She studied what she’d drawn.
“I still need to finish the background and shading, but…”
“May I see?” Leah asked.
“I normally don’t share until it’s finished. Well, except with Paul. But I suppose I’ll make an exception.” She turned the sketchbook and handed it to her.
Leah stared, mouth agape.
Christy had drawn her from the chest up. She was looking to the side, her chin out, proud and confident. Her dark, silken hair accentuated her long neck and smooth shoulders. Intelligence lived in the set of her eyes, and her full, pouting lips hinted at a thirst for truth. Christy had seen through Leah’s outer glamour and captured her inner beauty, her strength and determination.
“Oh, wow,” Leah said at last, almost reverently.