Chapter 6
SIX
The artist created the painting hoping to capture the essence of Lake Michigan, and it would’ve served as a beautiful memento for any art lover.
Leah wouldn’t categorise herself as one.
She appreciated the skill and creativity of artists and stared in wonder when visiting galleries and museums throughout her life, but she didn’t have the in-depth knowledge others had.
However, it wasn’t the desire to remember the trip that encouraged her to buy the painting—it was the resemblance to something. But what?
She stared at the painting for twenty minutes before deciding to fork out the small fortune to purchase it.
Grace encouraged her with a wry smile, which Leah found strange.
Leah also bought a new notebook from a local bookstore—she already had four, but her large, scroll-like handwriting meant she filled pages at an accelerated rate.
Grace purchased a new toy to keep Ezra entertained: a stuffed block of cheese with small legs and little blue eyes.
Grace’s dad and brother had decided to take the twins fishing.
Kathy, the evil step-monster, took herself for an unearned spa day with Ryan’s wife, inviting Ariana—who politely declined.
Ariana had some work to do and stayed behind.
It was definitely an excuse, but Leah couldn’t figure out whether it was to avoid time with her or simply to avoid Kathy.
Leah perused the small section of homemade skincare items and essential oils.
“Smell this,” she said, practically rubbing the soap under Grace’s nose. It had a coconut base, which made Leah froth at the mouth. She loved coconut.
She looked at the aromatherapy benefits of each item she admired.
The woman who owned the store kindly advised which ingredients promoted relaxation.
Leah loved a soothing atmosphere at home; nothing was more appealing to her than an evening spent in a wonderfully fragrant bubble bath, with soft music, candles, and enough pampering to resemble a spa experience.
She used to do that with Ariana—every Sunday—that was their night.
“Do you want to talk to me about yesterday?” Grace probed.
“What about it?” Leah reached for the herbal tea; the bright orange box promised energy-boosting powers.
“You know what I’m talking about . . .the fudge feeding, the longing gaze, the tension I could’ve jumped up and down on like a bouncy castle,” Grace’s eyes widened to emphasise her point.
“There was no longing gaze or tension, you just walked in at an inopportune time.”
Leah added the stress-relief herbal tea to her little wicker basket—the conversation suggested she might need it.
“Ariana already told me there was a longing gaze,” Grace countered.
“She did?” Leah spun her head to the left, the surprise on her face obvious.
“No, but now I know there was,” Grace smirked.
“I hate it when you do that!” Leah sulked.
“Your face is about as transparent as that window. You really should learn to hide your emotions better,” Grace laughed.
“Look, there was no longing gaze, some tension maybe, but that’s expected when you’re cooped up in a lake house with your ex,” Leah shrugged.
“You’re telling me it’s a coincidence that you stay behind, Ariana stays behind, and I come back to find you both eye-fucking in the kitchen?”
“Grace!” Leah pulled her by the arm away from the older lady who was desperately trying not to show the distaste on her face after overhearing their whole conversation.
“Nobody was eye-fucking anyone,” Leah whispered.
“It felt like I walked in on the first five minutes of a porno.”
“There was absolutely nothing porno-related!” Leah was adamant.
“The sexy lake house owner and the delivery woman casually dropping off a box of fudge to the wrong address—it would be a hit,” Grace taunted.
“How much porn do you watch?” Leah questioned, trying to keep her voice low as the store grew busier by the minute.
“You try growing another human inside your stomach that messes with your hormone levels daily, then throw in a husband that works away. I had to satisfy my needs,” Grace smirked. “Besides, a ripped man with a penis bulge bigger than the Eiffel Tower is much more appealing than Jonathan’s dad bod.”
“Erm, for you maybe. I’d rather eat a jar of pickles.”
For context, Leah hated pickles. The slimy, shrivelled vegetables soaked in vinegar made her body shiver. If you Google ‘pickles are . . .’ the search engine throws up some interesting suggestions—
Gross
Nasty
Destroying my life (interesting)
The latter wasn’t Leah, but she could understand it. Dramatic, but relatable.
“Stop trying to change the subject,” Grace challenged.
“The subject isn’t up for discussion.”
“It is! You’re my best friend, and that’s my sister. I need to know!”
“There’s nothing to know, Grace!” Leah snapped back.
“So, you didn’t purposefully arrange the fudge rendezvous in the kitchen?”
“Absolutely not, I had no idea she even stayed behind.”
“Okay . . .” Grace considered her response. “I think I believe you.”
“Well, thank you. I will be able to sleep tonight now.”
Grace bopped Leah on the end of the nose with the stuffed cheese block toy that Ezra had launched onto the floor. He found the interaction funny, the cutest laughter erupting from his tiny frame. Leah purchased five items from the kind bohemian lady in her floaty orange dress.
She handed Leah two crystals.
“Every crystal carries its own unique energy. I feel these two will be perfect for you,” she smiled sincerely.
Citrine and Rose Quartz.
The crisp autumn air surrounded Leah, one gust of wind after another caused the lengths of her hair to twist in a tornado-like fashion. She borrowed a hat from Grace, a retro blue pompom beanie that looked similar to one she had in pre-school, but it kept Leah’s ears from succumbing to the cold.
The sound of the waves lapping at the shore provided a tranquil backdrop, like the kind of background music you could record and play over the top of a meditation.
In recent years, Leah had begun to appreciate the art of meditation.
She hadn’t liked it at all when she first tried it; she had some preconceived notions about the type of person someone needed to be in order to meditate successfully. Leah was not that person.
How hard could it possibly be? All she had to do was sit there, close her eyes, and focus on the voice of the softly spoken lady guiding her, but it felt unnatural.
How could anyone be bad at meditating?
Well, Leah was, initially.
The experience would be ruined two minutes into a ten-minute meditation when her mind came barging in with negative thoughts, and the anxiety she was trying to rid herself of in the first place reared its ugly head.
Eventually, she adjusted her expectations, and two minutes turned into five, then ten, then twenty.
Now, it was firmly a part of her morning routine.
She chose to stroll along the beach at sunset. It was the first thing on the list of activities the lake house suggested—popular and cheap. In true Leah Green fashion, she missed the sunset.
Technically, it was Ezra’s fault; as Grace’s replacement husband, it was her duty to watch him while Grace was otherwise preoccupied. Grace was well and truly taking advantage—her shower lasted longer than Leah’s Monday afternoon meetings, which she privately nicknamed ‘doomsday download.’
By the time she made it out for an evening stroll, the sun had almost set, and darkness was starting to fall.
She heard the rustle of a coat, the faint swish of arms and legs making their way toward her.
It was almost impossible to hear footsteps in the sand, but someone was approaching.
She froze, ready to crouch and attack if necessary.
Her nails were sharp enough to act as claws if used aggressively.
She felt her legs tense. She had the kick of an adult horse, honed through years of being chosen as the goalkeeper in soccer.
She didn’t have the coordination to play in the field, but the use of her right leg to punt the ball up the pitch could now be categorized as a defensive weapon.
It worked for equine and it worked for her.
“Leah,” a voice called out.
She felt instant relief when she turned to find Ariana’s face come into focus. The moonlight cast a soft shadow across her flawless face. Years’ worth of facials and five-step skincare routines proved beneficial.
“Jesus, you scared me,” Leah sighed, her shoulders slumping back to that of a human and less of a porcupine primed to attack.
“Sorry, I didn’t want to yell.” Ariana said quietly.
The eighty-page guide provided by the owners clearly stated that there was to be no loud noises after dark, and not adhering to the good neighbour policy would result in being asked to leave the premises. It was the only part of the eighty-page manual in bold writing, highlighting the seriousness.
“You can’t creep up on someone in the dark!”
“Somehow, I think you’d be okay,” Ariana chuckled.
“Against you, maybe. Not a six-foot-five man with a goatee, steel-toe cap boots, a hammer attached to his belt, and a foreign accent that sounds slightly Canadian, but also Russian.”
“Erm, that’s oddly specific.”
“I have dreams about him sometimes, it’s stuck with me.”
Leah hated that guy. He called himself Damian, and he chased her through the imaginary streets in her dream until she hit a dead end, then she woke up. She never got to kick him in the balls, which seemed unfair considering she controlled the dream.
Leah wasn’t one for confrontation, certainly not in the business world.
That’s where Ariana balanced her out. She was good at leading people, having difficult conversations, and she had a track record of producing a very successful, very high-performing team, but Ariana also had the physical strength of a wet noodle.