“It’s always easier to protect yourself but when you build walls around yourself you don’t only keep the bad out, you keep the good out too. I guess that’s why I find your mother so inspiring,” Finn said. “She knows what she wants and goes for it. She doesn’t let fear get in the way. I want to be like her when I grow up.”
Liza had thought the same thing about her mother, but she knew better now.
Kathleen had let fear get in the way.
She stood up and cleared the plates. “Don’t grow up. I think you’re fine the way you are.”
“Says the woman who tried to kill me with a look when I almost rammed her into a ditch.”
“You recognized me?”
“Of course. You’re pretty unforgettable, Liza.” He’d tilted his chair back. Sunglasses concealed his eyes but she didn’t need to see the way he was looking at her. She could feel it.
Her skin heated as if someone had singed her skin with a blow torch. It had been so long since anyone had flirted with her she wasn’t sure she recognized it. She certainly didn’t know what to do about it.
No man had told her she was unforgettable. It was like pouring water on a thirsty plant.
Flustered, she carried the plates into the kitchen and focused on dessert and coffee.
The light was fading and the tiny lights that her mother had wound around the trees glowed like stars. Liza had always considered the fairy lights to be a surprisingly romantic touch from someone she’d never considered romantic. Her parents had never been tactile or demonstrative. She’d never seen them hug. And yet her father had been devoted to her mother, and Liza understood now that the deep love had been returned.
“So how are you enjoying your new life?” The way he was looking at her played havoc with her senses. She knew she was on the edge of something deliciously dangerous. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to step forward or back.
“Not exactly a new life. A break from the old one.” She felt breathless. Could he hear that in her voice?
“Are you saying you’re going to give up painting when you get home?”
She thought about how much she’d enjoyed the past week. She’d woken each morning eager to return to the canvas she’d left with reluctance the night before.
In London it would be different. She wouldn’t have the summerhouse, or the sound of the sea, or the space and time to indulge herself. But still...
“I’m not going to give it up.” Even the thought of going back was enough to dampen her mood, and not only because of the painting. She’d miss wearing flip-flops to the beach, eating simple food that didn’t require her to spend time in the kitchen, summer dresses and a good book. Most of all she’d miss the simplicity. She had things to think about—she knew that. Things to address. She’d been putting it off, but she was running out of time.
She paused as she heard the sound of a car pulling up.
Finn put his glass down, alert. “Are you expecting someone?”
“No.” Liza stood up. “Stay there. I’ll see who it is.”
“I can—”
“No, it’s fine.” She put out her hand to stop him. “Better not show yourself.”
Who could it be? If it was Angie then she was going to have some explaining to do.
Telling herself that she had no reason to feel guilty, Liza walked through the garden to the front of the house.
Two young women stood there.
“We’re looking for Finn Cool.”
Liza adopted a vacant expression. “Excuse me?”
“Finn Cool.” One of the girls grinned. “You’re probably too old to have heard of him.”
Cheek! “Is he famous?”
“Seriously? He’s only, like, the best musician ever.” The girl pushed her blond hair away from her face, her armful of bangles jangling.
“Oh. Well, I think I’d know if I was living next to a musical legend.”
“He was spotted in a pub up the road from here a few weeks ago.”
“Which one?”
“The Smuggler’s Arms.”
“He’d probably heard about their famous fish and chips. You should try it as you’re in the area. People travel a long way to eat there. And try the chocolate pudding for dessert.”
One of the girls turned to the other. “Are you sure you got the right pub? If he lived around here, she’d know.”
“Try farther up the coast.” Liza waved her arm vaguely. “And be careful driving up the lane. The roads are narrow.”
“I know. We got lost twice. Thanks anyway. You should check out some of his music.”
“I’ll do that.” It was a good job they hadn’t arrived a few hours earlier and caught her dancing around the kitchen.
Liza waited until the sound of the car engine had faded in the distance and returned to the back of the garden.
The table was empty and at first she thought Finn might be hiding, and then she saw the door of the summerhouse open.
She picked up her glass of wine and walked down the garden.
The air was thick and heavy with the heat but she could see ominous clouds gathering on the horizon. They were forecasting a storm.
“I’m not surprised you were hiding. They were scary.” She stepped through the door of the summerhouse to find Finn studying her painting. She felt a flash of insecurity. “Is that what you have to deal with all the time?”
He didn’t turn. “No, most of the time it’s much worse.”
“How awful. What’s the going rate for a bodyguard?”
“Mostly it’s a voluntary position but it does come with buckets of gratitude. Here, hold this—” He turned and handed her his glass of wine so that he had his hands free. “This is incredible.”
“I know. I used to almost live down here when I was a child, but my mother barely uses it. I cleaned it up after I saw you that day and I’ve been using it as a studio ever since.”
“I’m not talking about the summerhouse. I’m talking about this painting. Is this going to be mine?”
“I wasn’t sure you were serious.”
“Oh I’m serious. I don’t believe you’ve done all these since the weekend.” Without apology he started looking through the canvases she had stacked against the wall.
“Some are old. I’d forgotten they were here.” And she was a little embarrassed that he was looking at them.