Page 45 of Family Bonds: Alana & Brennan
“That’s wonderful. Family means so much to me.”
“Me too,” he said. “Mine was small and it’s not what I wanted. Or what I thought I’d have at this point.”
She sent him a shy smile. “You’re young yet to change that.”
“I am. It’s finding someone who feels the same.”
She nodded but didn’t say more. She’d already talked about her family memories and it’d be awkward for them both if she added it to the conversation again.
“Can I ask what happened to your father? Or where he is?”
They pulled into the studio parking lot. He didn’t want to ignore her, but it wasn’t just an easy one-sentence answer.
“He died when I was three,” he said. “My mother never tried again.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
They got out and went inside, him carrying the bag with their food and wine.
Brittany brought them to a small back room that had two easels set up angled so they couldn’t see the other’s work, a table in the middle that held their palettes and colors, with room for him to put the food out for them to enjoy. Even two wine glasses provided.
“I’ve got the display set that you requested. I can rearrange if you’d like,” Brittany said.
“It’s perfect,” Alana said. “Goes with the time of year.”
“I thought so too,” he said, looking at the artificial Christmas tree on the floor in front of a black backdrop. The tree was lit up, as if it was nighttime, decorated with glass bulbs and handcrafted wooden pieces. There were a few gifts under it.
Brittany brought over a rack filled with tubes of paint. “You can use these. Just put a dab on your palette. The color is on the outside of the tube for you. If you need anything else, please let me know. I’ll be out front.”
“I think we’re good,” he said.
He unloaded the food, taking out cheese, fruit and some meats to put on a plate.
“Let me help,” she said. “What’s in this?” She’d pulled out one of the two containers that were sealed.
“Lobster mac and cheese bites. You said you liked them too. I ordered and picked them up. That and bacon-wrapped scallops.”
Alana opened the container. “Wow. You thought of everything. They are on toothpicks.”
“No reason to touch it and ruin our artwork.”
He had toothpicks for the cheese and meats too. She’d told him she loved any fish and seafood when he’d asked her yesterday to get an idea of what to order.
“And an easy cleanup.”
Once he set up the food, he opened the wine and poured a glass for each of them, then he put on the smock provided and picked up brushes.
“I’m so excited to do this. Can you talk while you paint or will it distract you?”
“I’m not good and talking will help distract me from what ends up on the canvas. I hoped to use it as an excuse for how bad it’ll turn out.”
“I’m sure it will be fine. I know exactly what I’m going to paint.”
“The tree and gifts,” he said, laughing at her.
“I could never get the whole thing done in an hour. I’m focusing on one thing in front of me and painting that.”
“And that’s the difference between someone who took art classes and someone who didn’t.”
