Page 10 of Built to Last
Oh, so we’re doing this?Now I understand why she bothered to come over here. I can’t believe Malcolm’s serious enough about another woman to call her his girlfriend already. It’s only been a few months. I’ve not even considered going on a date since the break-up.
“Not at the moment.”
She smiles with false sympathy, like I’m some pathetic creature unable to get over her son.Ibroke up withhimfor crying out loud, although I’m sure that’s not the story he told. His ego would never allow it.
“Well, that’s alright, I’m sure you’ll find someone you’re better suited to eventually. At least you’ll have plenty of time to focus on your little hobby until then.” My jaw clenches. Thelittle hobbyshe’s referring to is my career as an artist. What used to be a pretty successful one until she and her son shredded my self-esteem.
“My art isn’t a hobby, it’s my job.”
“Have you sold a painting this week? This month?” Silently fuming, I shake my head. I could tell her about the set project but she’d assume I only got the gig because Aria took pity on me. “Then it’s a hobby, dear.” Parting shot fired, she swans off to order at the counter, not giving me a second look.
Screw this.I’m not sitting around here all day, desperately refreshing my email waiting to hear what some guy I just met thinks of my work. I might not be ready to dive right back into painting in my usual style but I can at least go through my supplies and see if there’s anything I need to pick up before the set project gets going. Shooting a final glare at Marie’s back, I pack my stuff, toss money for my coffee on the table, and leave.
Chapter Six
Phillip
It’s stillearly in the day so I’m not sure if Rose will have sent over her designs yet, but I settle down on my sofa with a coffee and my laptop just in case. If not, it will have to wait until after Sunday lunch at my parent’s and those can go on pretty long once we all get talking. I’d rather get back to Rose now and firm up our plans to shop for materials tomorrow while I’m at it. Plus, I’m curious to see what she’s come up with. Fortunately, her email is there waiting for me when I login.
My breath catches when I open the first attachment. It’s a glorious riot of pastels, truly beautiful, but the more I look at it, the more my gut churns with unease. There is no way we can put this together on such a short deadline and I’m left praying the second option she’s included is more practical.
The tightness in my chest immediately loosens when I open the second attachment. This is the one. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Rose had pulled this option straight from a fairytale. As requested by Aria, the design is spread over four panels. Two in the back, tall enough for even me to walk behind unseen, followed by two smaller panels in front that come up to around waist height. This design will be much simpler to cut since it’s only the edges of the panels that will need to take on the shapeof branches and treetops. Further inspection shows that the two shorter front sections can slot together to make one longer section across the front when needed. Aria already explained she wants the set on wheels with brakes—I assume to make it easier to get in and out of the schools they’ll be visiting, but it looks like they’ll be moving the pieces during the performance too.
What will make this set truly impressive is how it will be painted and, if her designs are anything to go by, Rose is more than up to the task. Shades of brown and green are layered together in a way that makes the trees look alive, like I would be able to feel the rough bark beneath my hand if I ran my fingers over the trunks. Through some kind of artistic magic to do with perspective and other things I only know a little about, Rose has managed to make it look like the flat images extend backwards, creating the illusion of being deep in a forest. Adding to the sense of whimsy are the little orbs of warm light dancing amongst the branches. Upon closer inspection I realise they’re small golden fairies perching on the tree limbs. It fascinates me that Rose is capable of making it look like they glow through clever use of colour and a boatload of talent.
I hurry to draft up my reply but pause before sending it. Rose never answered the text I sent her when we exchanged numbers on Monday and I’m worried I might have offended her. Again. I bring up the message on my phone for the hundredth time.
Me:
This is Phillip. Hopefully I won’t give you a reason to tell me off again but if I do, now you won’t even have to be in the same room as me to do it.
At the time I thought the message with my email address included underneath was a good idea. A little good-natured ribbing over a situation we’d both found embarrassing, but nowI’m not so sure. Calling Rose could minimise the chances of another misunderstanding but it’s a Sunday so she’s probably got plans. When did I stop being able to talk to women? Maybe Blake’s right and I really do need to start putting myself out there again if this is what being out of practice looks like. I read through the email one last time then press send before I can overthink it any further.
I’m the last one to arrive for lunch and Mum pulls me into a quick, floral-scented hug before ushering me through my childhood home to my usual seat at the dining table.
“Uncle Phillip!” Toby leaps up from his chair and tackles me with a hug of his own.
“Hey buddy,” I reply, grinning at his enthusiasm. He’s only six but in a few short years he’ll be old enough to think he’s too cool for his uncle so I make sure to treasure these moments while I can. Eric and I exchange hellos over Toby’s head. My brother looks tired. He’s dressed well, as always, in smart jeans and a soft-looking jumper that probably cost more than my whole wardrobe put together, but there’s a tightness to his shoulders and dark circles under his eyes. Making a mental note to check in with my big brother soon, I disentangle myself from Toby’s embrace and take a seat.
“Martin, you had better not still be out in the garage by the time I place this shepherd’s pie on the table!” my mother calls out in warning as she places a large dish of mixed vegetables on one of the heatproof mats in the centre of the table. When people meet them they’re often surprised by how Mum orders Dad around given she’s only 5ft 3” to his 6ft 4” but that’s just what works for them. Dad often jokes he’s so easily distractedthat he'd never get anything done without Mum to keep him organised.
“What’s he working on now?” Eric asks.
“He muttered something about a new bird-feeding platform for the garden before disappearing out there earlier,” Mum replies with an even mix of exasperation and fondness.
“I’m here, I’m here,” Dad announces, lumbering into the room, eyes darting to the table and sighing in relief when he sees the shepherd’s pie isn’t there yet. Last time he missed Mum serving up she refused to let him have any dessert and it was her rhubarb crumble, his favourite. I’m pretty sure she caved on that after the rest of us left, but still. It obviously made an impression.
“Just in time,” Mum says, a teasing glint in her eye. Once the main dish is brought over we all serve ourselves, Eric making up a plate for Toby as well. The first bite hits my taste buds and I hold back a moan of pleasure. Mum gave me her recipe, but I’m pretty sure she left out a secret ingredient because my shepherd’s pie never tastes as good as hers.
“How’s work, dear? Was it this week you were starting that set project?”
“Yeah, it’s going well. I’ve not had much to do this week aside from meeting the artist who’s designed the set, but we’re getting started properly tomorrow. You should see her work, she’s amazing. Rose stepped in last-minute since it’s her friend’s company we’re working for. She sent over her designs this morning and they’re fantastic. Seriously, the amount of detail is amazing.”
Realising I’m gushing, I quickly shovel another forkful into my mouth. Eric smirks at me across the table and Mum has a thoughtful look on her face.
“She sounds like a lovely young woman.”Oh no.That’s not her thinking face, it’s hermatchmakingface. Time to backpedal like my life depends on it.
“We don’t really know each other but she seems nice enough.” When I’m not pissing her off.
