Page 9 of Family Affair
The overhead fan had been left on and it spun in lazy circles under the vaulted ceiling of the spacious living room. White, mostly unadorned walls and dark furniture completed the understated air of elegance.
Dan gestured around the room. "Feel free to explore. What would you like to drink?”
“A cup of coffee, please.”
“Coffee?” He looked pained. “Who drinks coffee at night?” Shaking his head, he headed toward the kitchen.
As the smell of coffee wafted into the living room, Coco set down the binder containing photos of her works and explored.
Soon she was disappointed to realize there was very little to find in the perfectly furnished living area to give her a better insight into Dan’s character. He obviously lived well, but she already knew that.
There was a huge oil-on-canvas propped on the mantel, richly framed, depicting presumably a Georgia waterfront. She came closer to inspect the craftsmanship and wasn’t too impressed with the artist’s skill. The work was authentic, but that was all the landscape had to recommend it.
Next to it sat a large photograph of a couple whom Coco identified as Dan's parents. They weren’t movie-star famous, but Dan’s father and his business, Sheffield Investments, were featured in the local news from time to time.
She wandered back. On the side table by the sofa she spotted some wooden figurines, shockingly nude, and another large framed photo. Idly, she picked it up.
It was an old color photograph of five boys, taken before digital technology went mainstream, and the muted colors appeared smudged and faded. The group stood on a rock ledge. The landscape, what she could see of it, was barren and rocky, the skies overhead gray.
Coco brought the picture closer to her face, examining it, her gaze skipping from one little figure to the next. She judged the two older boys to be about fourteen, maybe fifteen, awkward and gawky in their budding masculinity. The two looked very much alike, and their facial structure, their coloring, and even their cocky postures reminded Coco strongly of Dan.
Must be the Sheffield brothers, she thought absently.
The older boys flanked the three that were noticeably younger, with the smallest one squatting in the center with his hands in pockets. She figured he must be Dan, for she knew him to be the baby brother of four.
Coco cocked her head to one side. The one with lighter hair would be Ross Sheffield, the only one of the brothers who inherited their mother’s light coloring along with her sharp and flawless bone structure.
The remaining young boy was Alex, then, the second youngest after Dan and the heir apparent to the family investment business. His age seemed right relative to the others.
Satisfied with her deductive reasoning, Coco switched her attention back to the two teenagers. One of them was probably Cade, the oldest. Which one? And who was the fifth boy? A cousin, maybe?
For some reason her eyes kept returning to the boy on the left. He stood a little apart from the others, a typical teenager with sullen expression and a downturned pouting mouth. His hair hung around his face in long choppy strands. Dark, well defined brows scowled over his piercing eyes. And these eyes… they were at odds with his youthful face. The knowledge and the disillusionment lurked in their dark depths.
Coco found she couldn’t look away from the enigma of him. She stared, riveted by his image, by his ancient eyes, so vivid and piercing andknowing. Was it the trick of light that cast those beautiful shadows? Or the slight lack of focus to the image? Maybe if the photo quality were better, she’d understand what it was that made him look so unusual, so intense.
Suddenly, the picture came alive in her hands, and the boy looked back. His dark eyes gripped her and bored deep, all the way to her very soul, and she was powerless to break the stare. The fine hairs on her arms stood up as if a draft of frigid air rushed through covering her in goosebumps. His gaze packed a heavy punch, the impact almost tangible in its intensity. She could feel his presence, almost there, almost on the same plane of existence. The magic was about to happen, and he was going to reach out across time, across the impossibility of the two-dimensional picture coming to life and…
"Sorry, I sorely lack in the snack department. Do you like strawberry jam?"
Coco jerked so bad that the picture flew out of her grip. She flailed her hands like a madwoman trying to catch the photo before it hit the floor.
“Wow. Good catch." Dan’s brows hit his hairline in amusement as she grabbed the picture and pressed it to her chest. "Startled you, did I.”
“I’m so sorry. Strawberry jam?”
“Yes. A toast is all I have as I don’t normally eat at home. But I make mean coffee.” Dan extended a steaming cup toward her.
Still strangely disconcerted, Coco accepted the hot cup without sloshing the burning liquid all over herself. Her coffee had milk in it, and it pleased her that Dan remembered.
"I do like strawberry jam. And don't worry about the food, just coffee would do fine."
"This is the first time you came, and I can't even feed you.” He hung his head in mock shame.
Since her visit was a spur-of-the moment decision, Coco didn't want Dan to feel bad about it. In an attempt to switch topics, she turned the photo toward him. "I like this old picture of you and your brothers. I bet it brings back memories."
"Yes."
"How old are you here? About nine?”
