7. Do Not Forget to Have Fun
7
DO NOT FORGET TO HAVE FUN
Teaching a master class in the art of negotiation would be a walk in the park after Hanna arranged for a private painting class in Monet’s Garden.
Keeping with the artistic theme after their day in the Louvre, where she booked a private viewing of Mona Lisa, Hanna knew that their trip to Monet’s Garden needed to be just as impressive.
She had to call in multiple favors, promise additional ones, and sweet talk her way past assistants just to get a phone call with the foundation’s director.
It was only after mentioning that Mai Kato–a well known patron of the arts and chairwoman of a high-profile art museum in the United States–was on her tour that the director offered a private tour and painting lesson before the house and gardens opened to the public.
When she received the email a few weeks ago from the director welcoming them to the gardens and providing instructions for their arrival, Hanna felt a rush of dizzy glee at the satisfaction of securing the once in a lifetime opportunity for the group.
Alone in her room at Sarah’s house, Hanna leapt to her feet and unleashed her joy in a spontaneous dance.
Now, cradling a to-go mug of tea in Madeline’s van, Hanna struggled to contain her excitement at the surprise.
A patroness of the arts and a fan of Monet’s work in particular, one item on Lillian’s list of must-dos on the trip was visiting the famous water lily pond.
Still in the first days of the tour, Hanna was trying to find common ground with Lillian to get the starchy woman to warm up to her, the need to have everyone like her agitated like a splinter under her skin.
Hanna could not wait to see Lillian’s face when she saw the easels set up along the walkway of the pond.
“You’re fidgeting,” Noah remarked in a flat voice from the seat behind her.
Despite offering Noah the front seat so that he would have more legroom, he insisted on sitting in the back, directly behind her.
Probably so that he could keep an eye on her and make sure she was not being sneaky.
“What’s wrong?”
Hanna turned as much as she could in the seat, keeping her voice soft to not disturb the rest of the group who were nodding to sleep in the back two rows.
“Jumping to conclusions again? Why does something have to be wrong? Maybe I just had too much coffee this morning.”
Noah looked at her skeptically.
“You don’t fidget. ”
“Maybe you do not know me as well as you think you do.”
Leaning forward so that his elbows rested on his knees, Noah brought his face close enough that his breath stirred her hair.
“No, but I do know that you always look calm and collected, even when everything is in chaos around you. The only giveaway is a slight flush across your nose and cheeks. Just like there is now.”
Hanna’s face flushed deeper, watching as Noah tracked the movement with his ice-blue eyes.
She felt his gaze like a caress, the phantom touch tingling.
She worked hard to mask any signs of distress or worry when on tour, the last thing Hanna wanted was her guests to pick up on her emotions and panic that something was wrong.
“If something is wrong,” he continued, “tell me and I can help fix it. I know how much Mai and Lillian are looking forward to this trip.”
Her flush at his close perusal blazed into indignation.
Why did he continue to doubt her ability to lead this group and incorrectly assume that her excited shifting in her seat was a sign of agitation?
“I know they are excited.” Hanna smiled over the bite of her words.
“Which is why I planned a surprise for them. You mistook my excitement for fidgeting. Maybe instead of assuming something is wrong, you could trust me to take care of things and loop in the group when necessary.”
“I wasn’t–”
“Noah, are you pestering Hanna?” Hazel drawled sleepily, glancing between the pair with a twinkle in her eye.
“Not at all,” Hanna responded.
“He was just asking about our itinerary for the day. I let him know that I have everything taken care of.” She flicked a sharp look in his direction.
“Besides, I would not want to ruin the surprise.”
Laughing at the exchange between Hanna and Noah, Hazel said, “She’s keeping you on your toes. My grandson has never been a fan of surprises, but if anyone could convince him, it's you, Hanna.”
“Did Hanna say she planned a surprise?” Daphne called out from the third row.
Hazel nodded, eager anticipation brightening her features. “Thank heavens we are close to Monet’s house. I don’t know if I could wait to find out what it is.”
“I love surprises!” Daphne practically bounced in her seat. For someone who recently had a knee replacement, she was surprisingly nimble, probably owed to her years as a professional tennis player and physical therapy. “The last time someone surprised me was when Damon Sutherland invited me over for dinner and…”
After hearing Daphne’s story, the group–minus one furiously blushing Noah–laughed so hard that they started crying. Madeline cheered on Daphne in French, calling her an honorary Frenchwoman. Not one to be outdone, Hazel launched into her own escapade with a man she met at dance class.
Noah practically pitched himself out of the slow moving vehicle as they pulled in front of Monet’s house.
“Please, mémé, I do not need to hear that.” He pointed to Hanna’s bag. “You would not happen to have something to wipe my memory in that endless purse, do you?”
Laughter danced through Hanna at his put-out expression. Hanna did not blame Noah. She would not want to hear about her family member’s sexual exploits either, but his exaggerated pout seemed more like an attempt to soften the tension between them.
“Hush, you!” Hazel smacked Noah’s arm as she stepped out of the van. “This is a girls’ trip and we are going to talk about whatever we like. You can stay at the hotel if you do not like it.”
Daphne came out next. “Maybe he’s just grumpy because he has been single for too long. Hazel, how long did you say it was since his last girlfriend?”
“Two years.”
“Please stop talking about me like I am not standing right here.” Noah put on his sunglasses, hiding his eyes but not the adorable way his ears were turning red.
The women ignored him.
“Two years is too long.” Mai rolled over to join them. “You are young, smart, and handsome. Your heart is too big to keep to yourself. The only downside is your surly attitude.”
“Getting laid would fix that,” Lillian chimed in.
A professional interrogation had nothing on these silver-haired septuagenarians. Once they latched onto the topic of Noah’s dating life, they were not letting it go. Noah was flustered as the group continued to pepper him with questions about why he was single. Hanna watched with amusement from a safe distance away. It was fun watching the drama, not being in it.
“Hanna.” Hazel’s sharp eyes caught on her like a heat seeking missile. “You agree with us, right? There is no reason two young, attractive people like you and Noah should be single.”
Crap. Hazel wove a magnificent web and Hanna was caught in her trap.
“Well…” She looked for a way to stall. There was no way she wanted to have this conversation with a grandmother set on matchmaking. “Oh, look, the docent is ready for us.”
A well-dressed student in their early twenties opened the green door on the front walkway, descending the matching steps to greet the group.
“ Bonjour , my name is Lou and I am delighted to show you around Monet’s home and gardens today.”
Hanna returned the greeting in French and introduced the rest of the group. When Lou was introduced to Mai, their eyes lit and they began rapidly asking her questions about the museum she worked for. The two became fast friends, and Hanna held back a smile at the way Lou insisted on helping Mai with her wheelchair, leading the group past the green shutters and pink stone walls of the building.
“Now will you tell me what this surprise is?” Noah slowed his steps to match Hanna’s, bringing them shoulder to shoulder. Lou was ahead of them with the others, talking about Monet’s background and history leading up to the purchase of the home.
“You really are impatient.” Hanna shook her head before looking up at Noah. “Not a big fan of surprises, are you?”
“I like to be prepared.”
Lou took them from room to room, their lilting voice enthusiastically answering Lillian and Mai’s numerous questions. A few paces behind them, Hanna and Noah followed at a leisurely pace.
“Do you like surprises?” Noah leaned over to ask her.
They were more alike than either of them originally expected.
Hanna shook her head in response. “Giving surprises is fun, but I have never been fond of them myself.”
For her, surprises were a vast unknown where any possibility lurked in the shadows. Whether it was the first time her parents announced the “surprise” that they were moving to another country, or the countless moves after, the surprise when each of her siblings went away for college and left her behind, or the countless other unexpected events in her life, they rarely ended well.
“Just like you, I like being prepared.”
“Really, I never would have guessed.” Noah bumped her arm with his.
She liked this side of him, a little bit playful.
When he stepped away again, Noah’s expression turned somber. “This experience, and the other’s you planned for us, I know you are good at your job. Amazing, really. When I asked about you fidgeting in the car, it was not meant to insult you, I was worried about you. You never ask for help, not with luggage or anything, and I just want you to know that I am here if you need help. You don’t have to do everything on your own.”
In her experience, people on vacation wanted an escape from their regular day, including chores and other mundane tasks that, when paying someone else to accomplish, preferred not to lift a hand. Not Noah, though. He helped her with the luggage and was always the first out of the car to open the doors for Hanna and the others. Maybe he was genuinely concerned for her and wanted to help. Hanna had said she would stop assuming the worst in what he said.
“Thank you. I am glad you are starting to appreciate my work, but I do not need help. I’ve got this covered. Since you’ve been so nice, I will let you in on the secret.”
Beckoning Noah closer, Hanna whispered in his ear. The edge of her palm brushed against his stubble, the scratchy sensation delightfully pleasant. She wanted to linger, to see how it would feel to run her fingers up and down the rough surface. Instead, Hanna drew back, watching Noah’s expression for what he thought of the surprise painting lesson.
Looking over at the group following Lou out into the garden, Noah brought his gaze back to Hanna.
“They are going to love it.”
“And you?”
His response mattered more than she wanted to admit.
“If you planned it, I’m willing to give anything a chance.”
As they stepped onto the path, the other’s delighted laughter filled the air as they spotted the setup. Warmth spread through her chest and pulled her lips into a smile at the sight of their happy faces. There was no greater joy than seeing her guests happy. Lit by the bright glow of the morning sun, their wide smiles and eyes glistened, the white canvases stark against the colorful garden behind them.
Enjoying the expressions of gratitude and thanks at the opportunity to paint in one of the most famous locations for painters in the world, Lou launched into an explanation of how they would be emulating Monet’s impressionist-style by creating a painting from whatever inspired them in the garden.
“Why are there only five easels?” Hazel turned to ask Lou.
Knowing that the docent would not have the answer, Hanna stepped up to reply. “This activity is just for your group. I will still be nearby if you need anything, but this time is for you to enjoy as a group.”
“That’s no fun,” Hazel said with a small pout. “I wanted you as our tour guide because I enjoy spending time with you. Come paint with us. You are part of this group. Madeline, too, if she wants to join.”
Hanna was touched by the gesture, the thoughtfulness of being included in their group chipping away at the shield protecting her heart. She did not want to get close to people again just to have them forget about her later, but it was so tempting to lean into this feeling of being wanted.
“It is really okay, I do not want to intrude–”
“I insist,” Hazel interrupted, turning back towards Lou. “Are you able to get another easel and stool for Hanna? And Madeline?”
At the question, Hanna sent a quick text to her friend, inviting her to the painting lesson. Madeline replied with a polite declination and a sleepy emoji. Knowing that she was not a morning person, Hanna suspected Madeline was taking a quick nap in the car while the group was occupied. While Lou was retrieving the extra supplies, Hanna helped Mai get comfortable at the easel designed to accommodate her wheelchair, the others settling onto stools around them. Conveniently, when Lou returned, the only place for them to set up the additional easel and stool was the empty space beside Noah. From the sly looks and poorly concealed giggles coming from her left, Hanna knew it was no coincidence.
These women were on a mission, determined to stick Hanna and Noah together at every opportunity.
In the patient voice of a teacher, Lou explained how impressionist artists created their work, encouraging them to take time to find a view that spoke to their soul, one they wanted to capture on canvas, before they left the group. As the sun rose higher on the horizon, rays of light caught on the rippling water, the sound of brushstrokes and birds chattering the soundtrack to their morning.
Keeping a close eye on the group, Hanna saw Lillian and Hazel’s faces scrunched in concentration, Mai’s serene, and Daphne’s full of humor as they worked on their art. On her own canvas, Hanna was attempting to paint the waterlily pond. After all, when in Rome, or Monet’s Garden as it were.
Next to her, Noah leaned in his seat to peek around Hanna’s canvas.
“Hey!” She tried to maneuver her body to block his view. “Focus on your own painting.”
“I just want to make sure I’m doing it right.”
“Lou said there is no right way to create a painting, art comes from your heart.”
“Really? Is that why you look like you could set your canvas on fire with how hard you are glaring at it?”
“I am not glaring!” She absolutely was. “I am focusing.”
“I thought it did not have to be perfect.”
She snorted. This is why Hanna preferred to stay away from drawing. Everyone said it did not need to be perfect, but when they saw the lopsided blobs that were Hanna’s attempts at flowers, their lips tightened like they were holding in laughter. There were many things Hanna was not good at, and she knew it was unrealistic to be good at everything, at least if no one else saw it she could pretend to have an adequate painting.
Turning back in her chair, Hanna tried to ignore Noah and focus on the canvas in front of her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Noah do the same. They continued painting in silence, the gentle sounds of the water lapping in the pond and the breeze rustling the trees creating a serene atmosphere.
Noah sighed. Glancing at him, Hanna saw him dipping his brush onto the palette before raising it to the canvas with a precision that looked painful. The others were smiling and laughing as their brushstrokes captured the beauty before them while Noah looked like he was under penalty of death if his paint moved outside whatever imaginary line he saw on the page.
A pang of hurt for him resonated through Hanna’s heart. Painting might not be her favorite activity, but at least she found joy being outside. She did not want Noah to be miserable. Thinking of ways to draw him into a lighter mood, Hanna grabbed her easel and turned it so that her painting was facing Noah.
“You do not have to keep painting if you hate it.”
“I do not hate it.” He smiled at her skeptical look. “Okay, it is definitely not my favorite activity, but I do not hate it. I just did not think it would be this hard. Or that I would be so bad at it.”
“Want to know a secret?” Hanna leaned forward and Noah followed suit, meeting in the middle.
“Always,” his whispered confession carried on the wind into her ears, tickling the skin of her neck and sending a shiver down her spine.
“That’s why I tried to politely decline participating. I hate the idea of showing my guests that there is something I am not good at. They expect excellence from me, perfection even. The last thing I want is them wondering that if I am not the best at everything, then how can I be the best at anything?”
Noah nodded. “It’s exhausting, always trying to be perfect. Sometimes, I feel like there are dozens of people waiting for me to make a mistake, ready to take my place. People see mistakes as a weakness, when in reality they are the only way we grow and improve. ”
He understood her in a way few others had. Confidence was currency in Hanna’s line of work, with people more than willing to find another tour company the moment she made a mistake. It sounded like Noah experienced the same feeling, a constant pressure to excel at everything, building a solid wall so that no one could find your soft spots.
There by Monet’s lily pond, Hanna realized that she and Noah were finally seeing eye to eye. Their previous truce was replaced by understanding, accomplished by revealing small parts of themselves for inspection and being validated instead of found wanting. A tendril of warmth curled beneath her chest, a feeling Hanna did not want to give word to taking root. With their faces an arm’s length apart, Hanna could see the faint freckles on Noah’s cheekbones, drawn out by the sun’s rays, and the darker shades of blue that cracked through the lighter shade of his irises. Falling into those endless pools, Hanna saw someone who felt just as deeply as she did, but who learned to hide it to protect themselves. If she looked long enough, what else would she find in their depths?
A duck landing on the surface of the pond, quacking in delight and splattering water as it flapped its wings, broke the stillness. Hanna straightened with a sharp inhale, trying to convince herself that her heart was only racing because she moved too fast.
“Your painting cannot be that terrible.” She took a drink of water to clear her dry throat. “Not compared to mine at least.”
Noah looked at her painting and gave her a lopsided smile. “You think that is bad?” He turned his easel to face hers. “Take a look at this.”
Swirls of multi-hued paint mixed together on the canvas. What could generously be described as water looked more like a black hole surrounded by green planets.
“It certainly is…unique.” Hanna would never laugh at someone else’s attempt at art, not when her own was abysmal. “The purpose of art is to put your own flair on it.”
“I thought impressionism was all about creating a realistic portrayal of what you see.”
“Well,” she said and smirked, “who can say that what you put here is not what you are seeing?”
Noah threw back his head to laugh at her sarcastic quip. “Where was this version of you hiding before? I like it.”
“Not quite the prim and proper robot you thought I was before, am I?” Hanna teased.
“Eh.” He rocked his hand side to side. “The jury is still out. You are still polished on the outside, not that I mind.”
Feeling mischievous, Hanna reached for her paintbrush. “Yeah? How’s this for polished?”
With a flick of her wrist, Hanna sent paint flying at Noah, droplets speckling his face alongside the freckles. A few dots of blue landed on the exposed portions of his shirt, the rest falling harmlessly on the apron meant to protect his clothes.
Blinking in surprise, Noah wiped a hand across his face, smearing lines of blue along his skin before looking at his paint covered fingers and clothes. He was silent for a moment and Hanna worried that she went too far. All she wanted was for Noah to have some fun.
Instead of getting angry, Noah’s eyes flashed with delight, a wicked grin curving his lips. “Oh, you will pay for that.”
Noah lunged, hand reaching for Hanna’s face to smear matching paint along her cheeks. She shrieked at the feel of the cool paint contrasting with the warm brush of Noah’s fingers. Twisting out of his reach, Hanna stood from her chair, paintbrush dangling from her fingers.
She danced around the chair as Noah pivoted on his heels to grab her again. Weaving between their two easels, Hanna sought to put distance between them, flicking the paintbrush in Noah’s direction in an attempt to slow him down. Undeterred by the paint launched his way, Noah swiped his fingers through her abandoned palette, quickly swallowing the ground between them with his long legs.
Their laughter as they chased each other around the pond and pathways spilled through the air, infusing the day with happiness. Hanna could not remember a time when she laughed this hard or felt so free to enjoy a moment. Her brain emptied of all thoughts beyond how to avoid Noah while simultaneously getting more paint on him. She was not thinking about the mess, how long it would take to clean the paint from her hair, or who might see them acting like two kids with their first crush.
Noah’s shoulders stretched the fabric covering his torso as he spread his arms wide, wiggling his fingers in a harmlessly threatening gesture. Trapped on the narrow stretch of path with trees behind her and Noah in front, Hanna breathed heavily. There was nowhere else to run. Knowing she was all-but-caught, Noah moved forward, his measured steps drawing out the suspense. Black swallowed the blue of his eyes, his chest moving rapidly with his breath. Hanna was helpless under his gaze, pinned in place.
She took one step back, the hard bark of the tree biting into her back and shoulders. Arms raised with her paintbrush in one hand, Hanna held her body steady as Noah reached her. He raised one hand and brushed his index finger down the slope of her nose. Hanna forgot how to breathe. Even if she remembered, it would be a mistake to draw air into her lungs because it would push her chest closer to Noah’s.
Eye’s flashing with heat at the expression on her face, Noah reached forward again. His hand hovered in the air, angling for her jaw as he looked into her eyes for permission. Swallowing thickly, Hanna nodded.
Her skin prickled with awareness as she waited to feel the brush of his finger against her. Closing her eyes, Hanna held still, sensing the warmth of his hand moving closer.
“Ms. Poole?” Lou called her name, notes of amusement and chastisement mingling in their tone. “Your group is more than welcome to continue exploring the gardens, but the museum is opening to the public soon and I need to clean up the area.”
“Oh, Lou,” Hazel chided as Hanna ducked underneath Noah’s arm to hide her guilty expression. “We need to have a chat about timing. They were just getting to the good part. Now we might have to start all over again.”