Page 69 of Never Too Late
‘Oh, wow.’ Timothée’s eyes flicked to me but quickly settled back on Sash. ‘That’s so cool. I love Paris. Always have.’
‘Me too,’ Sash replied, her colour settling a little more now.
‘And this guy captures it like no one else. I always end up buying at least one painting even when I tell myself I have enough art.’
‘Can one ever have enough art?’ Sash asked.
He regarded her for a moment. ‘That is a very good point. Probably not. Thanks for reminding me.’
‘You’re welcome.’ She flashed the wide smile she’d always been a little self-conscious of. It was something she’d inherited from me. I hoped in time she’d see it as beautiful as it truly was. Tomas had once told me that my smile was the reason he’d first fallen in love with me.
A tall, very slim, ridiculously chic woman appeared at Timothée’s shoulder, from the body language, I assumed an assistant rather than a girlfriend. He sensed her and turned.
‘Hey.’
She gave us all a brief, very tight smile. It was hard to tell her age, or her expression. Nothing really moved on her face. It was oddly captivating and I unnecessarily adjusted my bracelet in order to drag my eyes away.
‘I’m going to go and take a look at the exhibition. See if there’s anything good left to buy,’ he said, giving Tomas a gentle slap on the upper arm as he did so.
‘Probably not.’
Timothée laughed and raised a hand as we smiled our goodbyes. He began to turn then looked back at us and leant in towards me.
‘OK, so we all need to be so careful about what and who we say stuff to these days in case it gets taken the wrong way or out of context but,’ his gaze flicked to Sasha and lingered for a few moments, ‘can I just say that your daughter has a beautiful smile.’
‘Thank you. I think so too,’ I said, turning towards my beautiful daughter, who looked like she might float up to the ceiling like a helium balloon let loose by a toddler.
‘Thank you,’ she repeated and then casually turned back to us, careful not to look gauche in staring after him.
For a moment, we stood in silence. Not awkward like before. An unspoken agreement between Tomas and me told us to remain silent.
‘Oh my Goddddd!’ Sash squeaked out in a high-C whisper. ‘That was…’ She was practically vibrating on the spot.
‘Cool?’ I offered.
‘Soooo cool!’ Sash continued. ‘No one is ever going to believe I met him!’
I could see the cogs in Tomas’s mind whirring.
‘How long have you known him?’
‘Quite a few years now. He bought a painting from my first-ever exhibition. How Gabby got him to attend, I have no idea. I know better than to question the expertise and talent of my sister. As I said, I am just thankful. I’d probably still be painting in a shed at the end of her garden if she hadn’t – how do you say – put a rocket up my arse.’
Champagne sprayed out of my mouth and as I clamped my lips together, it quickly changed direction and exited via my nose instead. Automatically, I shifted towards Tomas, his large bulk hiding my faux pas from the rest of the room. My daughter, however, was already well into the process of disowning me.
‘Mum!’
Had I even done my job right if I didn’t mortify my offspring from time to time?
Tomas, laughing himself now, handed me a perfectly pressed linen handkerchief and I mopped up as gracefully as I could, although that ship had long sailed and was likely shipwrecked by now.
‘My fault.’ Tomas placed his hand on his chest, that sexy grin completely transforming his features.
I shook my head, still finding it more amusing than my daughter. We locked eyes and he gave a tiny wink. The little shit! How many times had he pulled the same trick back then? Waiting until Gabby or I had a mouthful to say something funny, or outrageous, just to get us to cough and splutter our drinks. Of course, back then, it wasn’t champagne dripping off our chins. The two of them may have come from a wealthy family but they never acted in the superior manner of their mother. Perhaps they were more like their father. It had been hard to tell as I’d only met him that once and he’d barely spoken, or had had a chance to speak.
Gabby once told me that he preferred a quiet life and therefore found it easier to give his wife free rein than argue. He’d offer his opinion but more often than not, it had been either overruled or disregarded entirely. It had maddened Gabby but I’d seen that day how perhaps Tomas took after his father more than any of us had realised. I wondered how much of that aspect had changed over the years.
‘Definitely your fault!’ I couldn’t stop the smile.
