Page 51 of Insidious Threats
“Miss what?”
A moment later they reached the end of the walkway and stepped out onto a small octagonal deck that jutted over the river. Built-in benches dotted the perimeter of the platform, but Sasha and Ellie walked past them, right up to the edge of the railing.
“This,” Sasha said.
They stood in silence, transfixed by the sight of the sun slipping into the river. The entire sky was banded by streaks of dark purple and golden yellow-orange as the light reflected off the water. On the opposite bank, a pale evening mist settled over the deep blue hills.
“It’s like a painting,” Ellie murmured.
It was. “It probably is. Lots of them,” Sasha told her.
Ellie gave her a confused look.
“It’s the name of the art colony—Light on the River. I’m sure dozens of artists have tried to capture this moment.”
“Right. Of course.” She turned in a slow circle. “It must be nearby. But I don’t see any buildings.”
They were still on the very outskirts of the hamlet proper, but Sasha also pivoted, looking for signs of life.
“Let’s ask him.” She pointed back toward the riverbank, about forty yards from a station wagon. A man in a puffy winter coat and a jaunty hat was packing up an easel and painting supplies.
They jogged up the walkway and cut through the frozen grass to intercept the artist before he reached his car.
“Hi, there,” Sasha called as they approached. Her warm breath made a small cloud in the cold air.
He turned quickly toward the sound of her voice and blinked when he spotted them.
“Evening. Didn’t know anybody else was out here.”
“I’m surprised that display doesn’t draw a crowd every night,” Sasha told him.
“She does put on a show,” he agreed.
“She?” Ellie asked.
“The sun. I suppose you could say the Creator puts on the show, depending on your beliefs.”
Sasha pointed her chin at his easel. “Looks like you’re a creator, too.”
“I dabble.”
“May we see?” Ellie asked.
“You ladies want to stand out here in the cold and look at a painting by some grizzled old grump?”
“Ellie here comes from an artistic family,” Sasha told him.
“Oh?”
“My father paints. I’d love to see your work.” She gave him a warm smile.
He softened and turned his canvas toward them. “I’m doing a series. This is the third one.”
To Sasha’s surprise, he hadn’t painted the brilliant sunset over the river. Instead, his subject was the hills beyond the river. He’d captured the mist creeping up from the water and the shadows stretching down from above.
Ellie considered the painting for a long moment, her expression intent and thoughtful. “I like the way you create movement in the rolling mists and the spreading shadow.”
A pleased grin lit his craggy face. “You have a good eye. What’s your dad’s name? Maybe I know him.”
