by Sey, Susan
Bianca gazed at Matty and said, “If we can come up with even three or four canvases to hang alongside the work Diego was doing at your age, I think it’ll be an enormous draw. And, not coincidentally, it’ll be exactly the money maker Addy says we need right now.” Addy watched, horror-struck and mute, as Bianca reached out a single reverent finger, and drew it down the edge of Matty’s cheek bone. “Nobody will be able to deny the likeness.”
“Nobody’s even trying,” Jax pointed out, and if Addy had been capable of speech, she’d have cheered. She herself had been an utterly unnecessary accessory to her own parents, one more bit of baggage they dragged from one job site to the next, and dutifully made arrangements for. Like an elderly cat, or a hideous heirloom. She’d always thought being unnecessary to her own family the worst thing that could happen to a kid. Now she wondered if the opposite weren’t just as bad. If not worse.
“But I’m sorry to say that it’ll make this—” Bianca moved that finger to the paper on the tablecloth between them, to Matty’s hopes for a summer field trip with his team. “—very difficult.”
He lifted his eyes to hers, and they were full of grim realization. “You’re saying no.”
“I’m not saying no.” Bianca arched a brow. “But you know our position just now. If we’re going to keep our lifestyle—” She paused, cast a significant glance around the bright, airy space that was Hill Top House’s formal dining room. “—intact, we’ll all need to make some sacrifices, you included. I know it isn’t fair, but that’s simply life right now, and this is something only you can do for us. You’ll need to focus, darling. Perhaps apply yourself a bit more?”
“I could apply myself,” Georgie murmured. Addy frowned and turned to her, wondering what on earth that meant but Matty shoved his chair back with an abrupt jerk.
“Like I haven’t been trying?” He dropped those bony elbows to his knees and sneered at his boots. “Like I’ve been withholding a masterpiece just to piss you off?”
“I’ll admit, I’ve started to consider the possibility.” Bianca leaned back and inspected her youngest son with narrowed eyes. “If you put even half the effort into your oils, for example, as you do into those ridiculous superheroes of yours—”
“Maybe it’s time,” Georgie said to nobody. Addy didn’t even look at her this time. The smile Matty sent his mother was too fierce, and the pain and anger simmering underneath caught in her throat like tears.
“Yeah but there’s the thing,” Matty said. “I like superheroes. I don’t like art.” He gave the word exactly his mother’s customary undertone of reverence but with a layer of disdain smeared over the top.
“Don’t you dare!” Bianca shot to her feet. “Don’t you dare smirk. You have the kind of world-class talent most artists will work their entire lives just to glimpse. And why? Because you were born with it. Because you’re a Davis, and it came with your blood. Because you’re lucky, almost impossibly so, and I’ll be damned if I’ll allow you to toss it over because it doesn’t interest you.” She spun away, as if she couldn’t bear to look at him. “Don’t be a child, Matisse.”
“Maybe, maybe,” Georgie said, apparently still engrossed in the conversation she was having with herself. “Hmm.” Addy ignored her and watched Matty.
Matty said nothing. Nobody did. Bianca’s temper was fast and furious but never long-lived and she’d already been raging longer than usual. A weepy collapse and a remorseful return to reason was due any second now. Or so Addy devoutly hoped.
“It’s just…” Bianca broke off and pressed trembling fingers to her closed eyes. “I know talent when I see it, that’s all.” She released a long breath and her shoulders wilted. “And when it slaps me in the face, I have a hard time not taking it seriously. I saw it in Diego, and I see it now in my baby. My Matisse.” She came back to the table, drew her chair to face Matty’s and sat. She was close enough to touch him, though she didn’t. “I’ve been seeing it since you drew your first caped crusader.”
“I’m not Diego, Mom.” He muttered it, refused to look up and Addy wanted to fling her arms around him. “I look like him but I’m not—”
“—him. Oh, darling, you’re not. I know that.” She came out of her chair, went to her knees and took Matty’s clenched fists in her hands. “Matty, you’re better.”
“I’m what?” His head shot up, his eyes wild and terrified.
“Better.” Bianca gave a delighted laugh and squeezed his hands. “I know I’m hard on you but it’s only because what you’re producing now is miles ahead of where Diego was at your age.” She rocked back, a breathless joy lighting her face, making her beauty incandescent. Addy stared, concern giving way to outright dismay. Grief was making her delusional. Matty was a child. He wasn’t Diego, for heaven’s sake.
“What he had?” Bianca went on. “What was in him? It’s in you, too. But more.”
No. Addy’s heart flat-out rejected it. But she knew better than to contradict her mother-in-law when she was like this. She just had to hope Matty had the strength to endure this little scene and trust that she and Jax would never let this happen to him.
“Mom, no. I’m not—” He stopped, his breath whistling like he was having an asthma attack though he’d never had an asthmatic moment in his life, so far as Addy knew.
“You are. I can see it there, just under the surface. It’s so close, but you’re blocking it. You’re afraid.” She put her forehead against his, closed her eyes and breathed him in. “You’re a good boy, Matty. You’re just afraid.”
“Mom, no,” he said again. He reared back, shot huge petrified eyes toward Addy, then Jax. “I’m not him. You want me to be him but I’m not. I’m just—”
“A child.” Bianca pushed up to sit on the edge of her chair again, her eyes shining. “A frightened child. But we can work through fear, Matisse. With proper motivation, we can turn that fear into something spectacular. Something that’ll rock the art world on its axis.” She beamed. “And a showing is just the motivation you need.”
Chapter 12
MATTY GAZED AT his mother for a long, taut moment. Addy didn’t breathe, didn’t blink. Finally he said, “Mom, are you insane? You can’t do this!”
“Why not?”
He leaned in urgently, elbows on his frantically bouncing knees. “Because I can’t paint.”
“Of course you can, darling.” Bianca waved this away, her remorse shifting to confidence in a blink. Addy, dizzy from the speed of it, gave her head a little shake. “He can,” Bianca told her, obviously mistaking her bafflement for resistance. “And he will.” She shifted back to Matty. “We have nearly three months until Devil Days. Three properly motivated months. We’ll have to work like hell, of course. All of us. But we can do it.”
Lord help them all, she looked happy about it. Eyes shining, hands clasped, she looked positively delighted.
“Wait, do what?” Georgie asked, checking into the conversation for the first time in minutes.
“Feed Matty to the tourists,” Jax said grimly.
“Introduce Matty’s work to Diego’s fans,” Bianca correctly easily. “To the people who loved him.” She beamed at Matty. “Just like they’re going to love you.”
Matty gazed back, evidently beyond words. It was, Addy figured, the best opening she was going to get.
“Bianca.” She cleared her throat. “I completely agree that Matty’s extraordinary.” She tried for a smile, because it was the truth. She loved that kid. “He’s amazing. But he’s thirteen. Talent aside, it’s a squirrelly age. Hormones, lacrosse sticks, comic books—”
“Graphic novels,” Matty growled.
“—and whatnot.” She shrugged vaguely to fill in the teenager blanks. “He’s supposed to be difficult just now. And on the off chance that, because of that, we have to postpone his triumphant debut for a year or two—”
“We won’t,” Bianca said firmly.
“Understood.” Addy amped up her smile and twisted slippery fingers together
in her lap. “But just in case, don’t you think we should develop some alternative solutions to this cash flow crisis?”
“Like your Davis Place idea?”
“Exactly,” Addy said, relieved.
“It’s a lovely idea, darling. And I have every confidence you can make it work.” Bianca’s smile was diamond-hard. “But if I’m understanding you correctly, we need an influx of cash now, not next year or whenever Davis Place will be open for business.”
“Well, a lot depends on the contractors but—”
“—but Matty’s debut will bring us the influx we need much, much sooner. And even if it didn’t, I would still be absolutely committed to it. If you want to pursue the Davis Place project, I have no objection. We can discuss my teaching duties once the showing is behind us.”
“But—”
“But nothing. This showing is going forward. I have an obligation, Addy. This is my son, and he has a rare gift. What kind of mother would I be if I allowed him to squander it on comic books and lacrosse? He’s uniquely positioned to both preserve the family tradition and further the legend. I agree he’s young. I wish it could be otherwise but fate has chosen to offer him his chance sooner rather than later.” She shifted those dark eyes to her son. “Which means that play time is over, Matisse. You need to get your head around this, and quickly.”
“Actually, I don’t.” Matty shook his head on a half-laugh that sounded more like a suppressed sob to Addy, and stood up. “I really don’t. You’re the grown ups.” He jerked a shoulder that encompassed the dining room table and everybody at it. “You figure it out. I’m out of here.”
He spun on one heel and stalked savagely out of the dining room. He disappeared through the arched entrance to the great room, and moments later, the back door crashed shut. Addy’s lungs inflated suddenly and she realized she’d been holding her breath.
She shot to her feet but for the second time in a week, Jax snagged her elbow, and suddenly her butt was planted on the arm of his chair.
“Let him go, Addy.”
“Are you kidding me?” She stared at him, stunned, her throat aching. “Thirteen-year-olds don’t make dramatic exits to be left alone, Jax. They do it for the attention. And not the kind of attention you get from an art show, for heaven’s sake!”
“Are you questioning my parenting, Addison?” Bianca’s voice was icy and cracked like a whip in the stillness.
“Somebody has to,” Jax said pleasantly. “Because, yikes, you are deep in crazy town on this. If Addy doesn’t want to question your parenting, I will.”
“Great,” Addy said. “You do that. I’m going after Matty.” She tried to push to her feet but found — to her astonishment — Jax’s hand on her thigh, keeping her firmly planted. He caught her furious gaze and lowered his voice. “I’ve got this, Addy. Trust me?”
She gazed at him for a long moment, then realized she did trust him. No matter how much she resented him, no matter how much he pissed her off, Jax fixed stuff. He took care. And he loved his brother, no question. She gave him a reluctant nod, and he took his hand back.
“Okay, so let’s assume for the moment that Matty’s out back, punching trees and otherwise reconciling himself to his fate in a very manly fashion.” Something about the way he said it suggested to Addy that Jax wasn’t reconciled to anything where Matty was concerned, and the burn of her anger toward him abated a few degrees more. “Why don’t we amuse ourselves while he’s doing that listening to Addy’s grand plan for Davis Place?”
“I wouldn’t mind hearing more about this myself,” Bianca allowed, magnanimous in her triumph. Georgie simply lounged across her chair and blinked lazily into the archway through which Matty had disappeared.
“Addy?” Jax prompted.
“Right.” She blew out a breath and reeled her aching heart in from the backyard where Matty was presumably punching those trees. “Okay, sure. I have the numbers if you want to see them but the basic idea is to make Davis Place over into a bed and breakfast for amateur artists.”
Bianca shuddered. “It’s such a mausoleum.”
“Hell of a view, though,” Jax said, and leaned back in his chair.
“Exactly.” Addy grinned down at him, and realized — with a thrill of alarm — that she was still sitting on the arm of his chair for heaven’s sake. She rose hastily and went back to her own chair. “I stood there in that ugly old house today, looking through those ridiculous little windows while the Devil River did its kamikaze thing into the lake and I thought to myself only here, you know? Only here, in this place, in this town, in this house, could you get a view like that.” She made a frame of her hands. “A view that makes even people like me want to paint.”
The back door banged open abruptly and Addy heard Matty stomp back into the house. She shot forward in her seat but then he stomped back out and the door banged shut again. She glanced at Jax, who shook his head at her. Not yet. She sighed.
“The view up there is quite something,” Bianca said as if nothing had happened. “Diego used to paint up there for hours when he was Matty’s age. For days. I have dozens upon dozens of those canvases in storage somewhere. I thought about hanging a few of them here but I—” She broke off, pulled in a breath and smiled crookedly. “Well, I haven’t looked at them in years.”
“But the fact that he found so much to paint there just goes to my point,” Addy said. “That place, that particular view, has a unique power. A transcendence that speaks to everybody from your artistic geniuses to your drop-out mathletes. It also has an enormous, empty house standing on it, unkempt but solid. We’re talking six rooms on the upper story — all with natural light and killer views — and the space to accommodate a commercial kitchen below. So I asked myself, what would people pay for the chance to spend a weekend with the view that inspired Diego Davis? What would they pay, I further asked myself, for the chance to paint that view under the tutelage of Bianca Davis herself?”
Jax said, “Serious art students aren’t going to train at a bed and breakfast, Addison. Doesn’t matter who’s running it.”
“I’m not talking about serious art students,” Addy returned. “There are schools and programs for them. I’m thinking of an older demographic, middle-aged to retirement. People at the stage of life where you start to regret missed opportunities, and to wonder about the road not taken. People who’ve been sensible their whole lives but are hungry for a taste of transcendence, and can finally afford to buy themselves a little.”
“A little transcendence?” He gazed at her, his eyes dark and shuttered. “Or a little Diego? What exactly are you proposing to sell here?”
“Opportunity.” Addy held that gaze and didn’t flinch. Why would she? She’d been enduring Jax’s disapproval for years. “The chance to stand where Diego stood, to paint what he painted and be critiqued by his teacher. He was a great artist, Jax. Probably the greatest of his generation. It comes with a mystique, and it’s an asset we haven’t done nearly enough to monetize.”
Jax’s face went hard. “I know the family’s hard up for cash, Addy, but I draw the line at selling artsy fairy dust to unfulfilled senior citizens with more money than sense.”
“Heaven’s sakes, Jax, listen to yourself.” Bianca laughed. “She’s not proposing we sell junk bonds to the vulnerable elderly. She’s talking about offering well-to-do art lovers the chance to paint. And what’s wrong with that? Just because a talent isn’t world-class doesn’t make it worthless. Beauty enriches us all. If people feel a call to create — or even just try to create — why shouldn’t they?”
“Thank you!” Addy punched a finger toward Bianca, then turned back to Jax. “That’s what we’re selling. Not a guaranteed masterpiece, just permission to try for one. So many people never even try, Jax. They’re sensible and prudent and they save and invest and send their kids to college but that thing inside them that responds to beauty, that goes breathless at a stunning view? The part that loves, unreasonably and without caution? It goes hung
ry their whole lives. All I’m offering them is the chance to finally feed it, to pursue the dream. To dream at all.” She caught herself and paused. A little too passionate for a business proposal, she realized, and dialed herself back. “People are just so afraid,” she said, more lightly. “When they’re finally ready to take a chance, to dream for real? To admit what they’ve always wanted and finally, finally reach for it? We can be there for them. We can help, and that’s not just a money-grab. That’s a worthy endeavor, and I’d be proud to be part of it. The question is, will you?” She looked around the table. “Will any of you?”
“Of course,” Bianca said warmly. “Goodness, that you even have to ask!”
“I’ll do my bit,” Georgie said cryptically and Addy wondered what exactly her bit might be, but was distracted by the evil grin that slid across her perfect face as she turned toward her brother. “But what about you, Jax?”
“What about me?”
That grin grew. “Are you finally ready to take the chance? To reach for the dream?”
He didn’t answer, only shifted his gaze to Addy and let several beats of considering silence pile up.
“Well?” Addy asked finally. “Are you in or not?”
Her heart beat uncomfortably and she realized suddenly that she wanted him to believe in this. To believe in her. She wanted him on her side, and desperately. But why? Why was his approval so excruciatingly important? He opened his mouth and her heart crawled into her throat in anticipation of rejection.
Then the back yard exploded. Or something did. Something huge enough and close enough that the floor literally rumbled underneath her.
“What the hell?” Georgie yelped, clawing herself upright. “What was that?”
There weren’t a lot of answers to that particular question, Addy knew. Hill Top House was the sole occupant of an exclusive and very expensive chunk of bluff-top real estate overlooking the lake. If something enormous had just exploded nearby there were only a few possibilities: The carriage house. Joe’s old kiln. A vehicle.