Page 37 of This Loving Feeling (Mirror Lake)

CHAPTER 9

“I wish I could change my reputation,” Effie said from her perch on the red velvet settee that was tucked into an alcove on the second level of the massive old theater. Sam sat just feet away, poised with a paintbrush, eyeing her grandmother as she sat up straight in a blue tailored dress and string of pearls, surrounded by elaborate plaster carvings painted in softly washed shades of red, terra cotta, and green.

She was glad to be painting Effie’s portrait on Monday after school instead of thinking about her disturbingly handsome houseguest and how he’d sung so beautifully to calm his frightened little nephew. Not to mention what he’d said about their breakup—that he’d felt he had nothing to offer her. That was so far from the truth she almost cried.

Plus she was beginning to wonder if he was ... lonely. Like maybe his life wasn’t all it was cut out to be, either. Could it be he actually regretted letting her go all those years ago?

Sam turned her full attention on her subject. “You’re the sweetest granny alive. Why would you ever want to change?”

“See?” Effie pointed an accusatory finger at her granddaughter. “I’ve had it with sweet and nice. It gets you nowhere, I tell you. Nowhere.”

“Do you want to talk about this?” Sam couldn’t have Effie being distressed. First off, she was fidgeting worse than a toddler in church. Which was not conducive to painting her portrait, the one she’d been begging for years to sit for. This was supposed to be a happy time, a bonding time, where they could have girl talk and relive happy memories.

“I’m fine. Why are you painting me anyway? Do you think I’m about to die?”

Sam rolled her eyes. “No, I donotthink you’re about to die.”But I just might kill you if you don’t slap a smile on your face and sit still.“You’ve done a ton of work for this theater. I just think you should be recognized for that. Besides, I love doing portraits and I want to do yours. Is that so wrong?”

“I’m old and wrinkled. And I do not want my portrait hanging next to Lillian Donaldson’s. She saved this big old elephant in the eighties and hasn’t let anyone forget it since.”

“You’re different than Lillian, Gran.” Lillian was the wife of the CEO of the hospital, Dr.Donaldson, who had hired Ben a few years back. The same Donaldsons who owned the lake house where she was staying this summer. “You’ve never gone around tooting your own horn. I promise we’ll get you your own space to hang, okay?”

“Probably near the concession stand,” she grumbled. “God knows I’ve spent enough time working it over the years.”

“True. Remember how you used to bring us home popcorn?” No other popcorn could come close to that freshly popped, buttery, salty goodness. “I’m not going to let them hang you near the concession stand.”

“Hang me in front of the ladies’ washroom. Everyone goes there and chats. That’s a good place to be.”

“Okay, deal. Washroom it is. What’s got you so ... troubled?” The wordagitatedcame to mind but Sam knew using that word would just make her madder.

Effie took a breath and sat up straighter. “Nothing. It’s all right. Just that I’m tired of being Pushover Granny. Sometimes things need to be done for everyone’s good and I’ve never been one to rock the boat, you know? But I really think I’m going to start.”

“Are you upset at us?” Us, meaning Sam and her brothers Brad, Ben, and Tom.

“Of course not.” Effie rubbed her hands together nervously in her lap.

“Your girlfriends? Anyone at Assisted Living being mean to you?” She couldn’t imagine it. Her grandmother never held grudges and in general got along with everybody.

“Samantha, I’ve never interfered with your life, have I?”

That was a loaded question. She scanned her grandmother’s clear blue eyes and detected ... worry. “Well, I think you did your share of disciplining me back when I needed it.” She didn’t want to go there, to talk about her last year of high school and what a sad disaster it had become. That was in the past, she’d gotten over it, and her life was so much better now.

“And I never would interfere, would I, unless it was for the best, right?”

She set the brush down for good. “Is there something you need to tell me?”

“No,” she said too quickly, and flicked her eyes back and forth, which was very suspicious. “I just wondered how you’re doing now that Spike’s back in town.”

“Lukas,” Sam said.

“Oh, so now he’s Lukas, is he?” A smile broke through the crotchetiness.

Why did Sam ever think painting her portrait was a good idea? And this was only the first day.

“Alethea tells me he’s got his eye on you.”

“I doubt that but I certainly don’t have an eye on him, if that’s what you’re getting at. Harris and I are practically engaged.”

“Practicallyengaged. What does that mean? I was an OB nurse for forty years and I never saw anyonepracticallypregnant.” She lifted her shoulders and hands in a shrug. “I don’t understand couples who date for years and years without a thought of marriage.”

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