Page 13 of Ten Years Later
As he helped Miss Sharon set up stations, he said, “I met a sweet girl here yesterday. Emily. Is she working today?”
“Yes. She’ll be here after school, 4:30 or so.”
Keaton kept one eye on the door as the time progressed. Sharon led the lesson while Keaton and a few parents roamed the small clumps of children.
Today’s class covered tulips. He dove into his role, losing track of time, showing the kids how to draw a squished circle, followed by curved lines, then the bottom and the petals. He demonstrated how to shade and add a stem, leaves, and a pot.
“You’re great at this,” Sharon commented. “It’s hard to find people who can break it down into teachable sections.”
With a smile, he glanced up, noting Emily had already arrived. With her green apron on, she moved into the supply closet where she began restocking shelves.
Quietly, Keaton excused himself from the kids now painting the tulips they’d drawn.
At the open door to the supply closet, he watched Emily pull Sharon’s purse from an open cabinet. She rifled through it, finding money and tucking it into the pocket of her apron.
She put the purse back, standing, noticing Keaton. Her face paled. “Um, hi.”
“Hi.” He played it cool. “Didn’t see you come in.”
“Yeah, been here a bit.” She grinned, showing braces with purple bands. “Thoughts?”
“I’m digging the purple.”
“Thanks! Mom wanted me to do that Invisalign crap but I guilted her into this.” Her brows bounced in a snarky, cocky way that made Keaton laugh under his breath. She continued restocking. “You work here now, huh?”
“Part time pretty much every afternoon.”
“Cool.”
Silently, he watched her move around the room. She moved like him, a bit clunky. She didn’t inherit Cora’s grace.
He noticed her art kit placed along the wall. “May I?”
“Sure.”
Keaton opened it, finding a sketch pad on top. He thumbed through, delighted she favored charcoal—his favorite medium as well. He noted the rich black, the pale and wispy greys, the dark pressure points that gentled, bringing a lighter, more powdery consistency. She drew with loose expressiveness, favoring wildlife—birds, turtles, crabs…
“You are very talented,” he said. “Do you get that from your dad or your mom?”
“Beats me. I’m adopted.”
Sharon stepped into the supply closet. “Hi, Emily.”
“Hi.”
“Keaton, I’d love for you to show that group in the front how to shade the petals.”
With a wave to Emily, Keaton went back to work.
By seven that night, the kids departed with tulip pictures in hand, Sharon sat at the front counter doing paperwork, and Keaton worked with Emily to clean and shut down the store.
The door opened and Mia Ferguson walked in. She exchanged a few pleasantries with Sharon as Emily gathered her things. Keaton walked with her to the front of the store.
“Hi, we met yesterday,” he said to Mia.
“I remember,” she replied.
“Emily is a very talented artist. If you’re ever interested in lessons beyond the ones Miss Sharon gives, I’m happy to offer.”
