Chapter 5
Penelope
Sunlight was starting to filter through the kitchen window while I waited for my morning tea to steep. Absently, I dunked the tea bag a few times, my mind wandering to the day ahead.
I was working with the freshmen and sophomores on sketching on paper with charcoal pencil, and we’d be moving into shading. It would mean a lot of gray fingerprints all over my classroom before the day was done.
Glancing down at my outfit, I wondered if I should change. I’d put on an off-white blouse and tan slacks. Not that the students would touch me, but I had a feeling I’d wind up with charcoal smudges everywhere anyway—most of them my own doing.
If I was being honest, I wasn’t a neat artist.
I went to the bedroom to change, opting for a black shirt and dark gray pants. Problem solved.
Sean was still in the shower, and I wondered if he’d want to bring lunch to work. I decided to pack him some of the cranberry walnut chicken salad I’d meal prepped the night before. Hopefully he’d eat it instead of going out for fast food with his buddies.
I sipped my tea as I packed our lunches. Sean came out not long after, his short hair damp and his mustache trimmed. He grabbed his half-empty mug, dumped out the cold coffee, and poured a fresh cup from the coffee maker.
“I packed a lunch for you if you want it.” I held up the bag. “Just please bring the container back.”
He grunted. I wasn’t sure if that meant yes or no, so I set it on the counter. When he took his coffee to the table and sat, I grabbed my tea and joined him.
He took a drink of his coffee, and I sipped my tea.
It was weird, but I couldn’t think of anything to talk about.
I almost launched into an explanation of what was in his lunch, but didn’t.
He wouldn’t be interested in the ingredients of a cranberry walnut chicken salad.
The only other thing that popped into my head was the Friday-night football game, but I stopped myself before I blurted out anything about the win. He didn’t know I’d been there.
“So,” we both said at the same time.
“Sorry,” I said. “Go ahead.”
He sighed. “No, what were you going to say?”
I hadn’t been about to say anything. I’d just instinctively tried to fill the silence. Although his sigh probably meant he didn’t really want to hear what I had to say, I jumped into the next topic that came to mind.
“You know that painter, Edwin Morris? I took his class last summer. You came to the picnic with me at the end.”
“Is he the one whose wife looks like a skeleton?”
“She doesn’t look like a skeleton.”
“Yes, she does. She has those cheekbones and weirdly large eyes.”
I sighed. “Okay, so she has a face that’s…memorable. Anyway, Edwin Morris died.”
Sean’s brow furrowed, like he had no idea why I’d brought that up. “Oh. What happened?”
“I don’t know. There was an article in the newspaper, but it didn’t say. Grandma Colleen figures it was a heart attack.”
“Probably. Was he old?”
“Not really. He was in his sixties.”
“Old enough, I guess.”
Wrapping my hands around my mug, I sighed again. “Yeah, I suppose.”
Silence crept between us again and I found myself gazing at the painting on the dining room wall.
It wasn’t a Morris, it was one of mine, but I’d painted it while taking his class.
We’d gone to Salishan Cellars, a lovely winery in the neighboring town of Echo Creek, and painted one of the vineyards.
Instead of capturing the whole landscape, I’d focused on a small section of vine with plump grapes glistening with early morning dew.
“Are you upset about this or something?” Sean asked.
“Oh, um…” I sat up in my chair and blinked a few times. “Actually, yes. He was a little bit like a mentor. I learned a lot from him. And I’ve always loved his work.”
He made a noncommittal noise.
“Anyway, there’s a celebration of life at his gallery on Saturday. I was thinking about going.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. To pay my respects. It’s open to the public.” I hesitated to ask the question on my mind because I had a feeling he was going to say no. But I didn’t want to go alone. “Would you come with me?”
Getting up from the table, he groaned. “On Saturday? It’s my day off.”
“Right, which means you could come with me. We won’t stay long.”
“Fine, but in and out. Funerals creep me out.”
“It’s not so much a funeral as a—”
“I gotta get to work.” He put his mug in the sink and picked up his lunch bag.
I didn’t reply. Just watched while he put on his shoes and grabbed his coat. He left with a mumbled goodbye.
“Bye,” I said to the closed door. “Have a good day.”
Suddenly overwhelmed, the feeling washed over me like a cloudburst on a previously sunny day. Gripping my tea, I closed my eyes, wishing I could open them and find myself somewhere else. Not on the cusp of a life-shattering choice.
But I couldn’t keep grasping at something that wasn’t there. I didn’t have a boyfriend; I had a roommate who gave me emotional whiplash. Did he even care about me anymore? It seemed like he had, once.
The implications of that train of thought were so overpowering, I had to push it all aside. A decision point was coming, and I’d face it. But not two minutes before I had to leave for work. I had a bunch of teenagers to educate.
I gathered up my things and drove to school.
I liked getting there early so I had plenty of time, not just to prep for the day, but to relax a little before the students descended on the building.
My mouth turned up in a smile as I parked next to Theo’s truck.
He was the same way—always got there early.
Absent the hustle and bustle of students, the building was eerily quiet. I needed to put my lunch in the fridge, so I veered toward the teachers’ lounge. Maybe I’d make myself another cup of tea.
A low hum of voices greeted me when I went in. Several of my colleagues had gathered at the tables, sitting and chatting with their coffee.
“Pen Diggity,” Theo said behind me as I put my lunch in the refrigerator.
“Ooh, nineties hip-hop reference.” I closed the fridge door. “I like it.”
He held out his fist. I bumped it with mine and we spread our fingers, making our familiar explosion sound.
We took a seat at the open table. His hair was a little disheveled and he had dark circles under his eyes. I could tell by the way he held his head that his neck was stiff, and I wondered if he’d spent his weekend nursing a migraine.
“How was your weekend?” he asked. “Oh, wait. I made you tea.”
He got up and I noticed the subtle rigidity to his movements. Poor guy. I hoped it hadn’t been too bad. He handed me a cup of tea and sat with his travel mug of coffee.
“I probably left the tea bag in there too long. Sorry.”
“Oh, that’s okay. Thanks for making it for me.”
“You bet. So, weekend?”
I took a sip. Hot and not too strong or bitter. And most definitely appreciated.
“It was fine. Pretty quiet. Just visited Grandma Colleen yesterday.”
“How’s she doing?”
“She’s well. Feisty. She hid Maury Haven’s reading glasses again.”
He chuckled. “Those two are so funny.”
“Aren’t they? She said the last time he retaliated, he replaced her sugar with salt. She put some in her tea but drank it anyway.”
“Solid prank. Solid response. I like it.”
“How was your weekend?”
He lifted one shoulder and took a sip of his coffee. “Didn’t do much.”
A lock of his hair flopped down over his forehead. Without thinking about it, I reached over and brushed it back. He flinched a little, his reaction almost imperceptible, and a flash of surprise crossed his features.
I pulled my hand away and was about to apologize, but just as quickly, his expression returned to normal.
He ran a hand through his hair. “I should have gotten it cut.”
My cheeks warmed, and I had the sudden desire to crack a joke to cut the tension. “I hear mullets are making a comeback. Maybe you should go for one.”
“No. No mullets.”
“Are you sure? That’d be a good look on you.”
He eyed me like I was crazy.
I kind of wanted to reach around and run my fingers through the back of his hair. Make another joke about how he was already halfway to growing one. But my stomach tingled a little and the flush in my cheeks grew.
“Anyway,” I said, my mind racing with the sudden need to change the subject. “Something else did happen over the weekend. I found out Edwin Morris died. He was a local painter.”
“Oh, really?” He leaned closer and his forehead creased with concern. “Is he the one whose class you took?”
“Yeah.” I was surprised he remembered. “I loved his work, and I learned so much from his class.”
“He passed away? Man, that sucks. Do you know what happened?”
“No. There was an article in the paper, but it didn’t say.”
Theo hesitated for a moment, his eyes full of concern. Finally, he reached over and put a hand over mine. “Pen, I’m sorry.”
The warmth of his hand made my head fuzzy, and the tingles spread from my stomach all the way to my fingers and toes. “Thanks.”
Pressing his lips together, he nodded and squeezed my hand before letting go.
I glanced away and swallowed hard. The mix of butterflies, flushed cheeks, and the sensation of his hand on mine were all getting a little overwhelming.
Which was so weird. It was just Theo.
He cleared his throat. Not a regular throat-clear. It was a signal. When my eyes lifted to meet his, he flicked his gaze to the table next to us, then raised his eyebrows. I cast a quick glance at the table. Everyone had gotten up and gone, but one of our coworkers, Sharon, had left her phone.
No one else would have seen his subtle nod, nor the one I gave him in reply.
My eyes flicked around the room, but Sharon wasn’t there. Trying to look as innocent as possible, I deftly reached over and took the phone. Theo immediately scooted his chair next to mine. “Is it unlocked?”
“Yep.”
He picked it up and tapped to open the camera, then held it low, at the most unflattering angle possible. We leaned in so we were both in the frame and pressed our chins down. Theo took several of the ugliest pictures of us imaginable, looking right up our nostrils.
I stifled a giggle behind my hand as we looked at our handiwork. “Those are awful.”
“Yeah, so bad.” A few swipes and taps later, he’d changed Sharon’s background to the terrible photo of us.
He handed the phone back to me, and I slid it onto the table.
“That’s going to scare the poo out of her when she opens her phone,” I said.
“She should know better than to walk away without it.”
“True, she really did bring this on herself.” I checked the clock on the wall. “I should get to my classroom.”
“Yeah, same.” He stood and picked up his travel mug. “The chaos will soon begin.”
I got up. “Indeed.”
“Good job, by the way.”
“Good job with what?”
He grinned. “Not coming to school with paint on your face.”
Rolling my eyes, I smacked his arm. He just kept grinning.
And that was when I realized Theo Haven had dimples under his stubble.
How had I never noticed them before?
The rush of butterflies in my stomach threatened to make me start babbling. I got so awkward when I was nervous.
But why was Theo making me nervous? What was wrong with me?
We left the teachers’ lounge and walked through the commons and up the wide staircase leading to the second floor. The feel of his hand on mine still lingered for some reason, and I found myself wanting to tuck it against my chest, as if I could preserve the sensation.
On the way up, we passed Sharon going down. She was probably heading to retrieve her phone.
Theo turned and waggled his eyebrows. Suppressing a giggle, I followed him to his classroom, but we didn’t go in. Crossing his arms, he leaned against the doorway. I tapped my chin, as if lost in thought about something very important.
A moment later, Sharon let out a startled scream.
Theo’s mouth turned up in a triumphant grin. Without a word, we fist-bumped. He gave me a quick wink, then unlocked his classroom and disappeared inside.
I scurried down the hallway, feeling decidedly less brave about our little prank without Theo there. Sharon had a good sense of humor, so I knew she wouldn’t be mad or anything. But still. Theo was the one who gave me the courage to do silly things like play harmless pranks on our coworkers.
The flutters were still fluttering and tingles still tingling as I went into my classroom. I picked up a book from my desk and fanned myself. I needed to get myself together before my students started showing up.
But all I could think about as I started prepping for my day were Theo Haven’s dimples.