The Summer Swap

Chapter 10

Cecilia

Cecilia sat in the shade as Lily brought food out onto the porch. Inviting Lily to stay had proved to be one of her better ideas. Lily changed the way the cottage felt. It was as if her energy and presence had somehow swept the memories into a dark corner, helped by the discovery that Cameron hadn’t been using the place as a love nest.

They’d been here together for a little more than a week and every day Lily brought home something new for the cottage. On the first day it had been a pretty jug that she’d found in a thrift store. She filled it with fresh flowers from the market and placed it on the kitchen counter. The froth of white blooms in the cheerful blue jug brightened Cecilia’s day every time she walked past it. Since then, Lily had brought home a fresh set of cushions and a soft throw in a shade of sea green.

“You won’t let me pay rent, so this is my contribution,” she’d said when Cecilia had expressed concern. “I’m trying to cheer the place up. Make it somewhere you’re happy to be.”

Cecilia was touched by the sentiment, particularly as she knew how stretched Lily’s budget was.

“You’re extremely creative.”

“I love decorating,” Lily had said. “And money was always tight growing up, so I learned to do it on a shoestring. I made a patchwork quilt for my bed out of scraps of fabric that the school was throwing away.”

As well as her obvious talent for interior design, Lily was calm, kind and, it turned out, an excellent cook.

Tonight, she’d pan-fried salmon fillets and served them with a lemon and dill sauce and a simple salad of watercress. There was a basket of fresh bread and a dish of creamy butter sprinkled with sea salt.

“This food is too pretty to eat. It’s a work of art.” Cecilia decided it wouldn’t have been out of place in a top restaurant.

Lily flushed at the compliment. “It’s just salmon.”

“Maybe, but salmon never looked so good. You have a good eye.”

“For fish?”

Cecilia smiled. “For the way things look. Everything, from flowers to food. Is tonight the night you finally show me your paintings?”

“Definitely not. I’m enjoying our friendship and I don’t want to ruin it.”

Cecilia rarely ate bread, but the smell was too good to resist. She helped herself to a chunk and broke it in half. “Why would it ruin a friendship?”

“Because you will either lie and say you love my work, or you’ll say you hate it. Either way, it would make me feel awkward.”

“Perhaps I’ll say I love it because I do.”

“If you hadn’t spent your life with Cameron Lapthorne then maybe I’d have the courage to let you have a peep at one or two things I’ve been fiddling with, but it’s a bit like asking Mozart to listen to my piano composition. Tough audience. There’s more sauce if you’d like it.” Lily pushed the small jug toward Cecilia. “I paint for myself really. It gives me pleasure.”

Cecilia tasted the salmon. “It takes great courage to put creative work on public display. It feels very personal. This is delicious, by the way.”

“People judge. If they don’t think you’re good enough, then it’s crushing. I’m trying to protect myself. Probably cowardly, but also necessary.”

She’d had no one to encourage her, Cecilia thought. And confidence could be as fragile as spun sugar.

“Would it help if I told you that Cameron suffered from terrible imposter syndrome at times?” It was something she’d never revealed to anyone before, but it felt right to share it now. She sensed it might help Lily to hear it, and she felt Cameron would have approved. He’d always supported young artists.

“What?” Lily put her fork down. “No. I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true, although I’m sharing this in confidence, obviously. He suffered terribly, particularly at the beginning, when his career took off.” There had been a reason for that, of course, but she wasn’t going to share that with Lily. “The point I’m making, is that many people suffer from imposter syndrome. The thing that matters most is that you don’t let it stop you doing things. Are you proud of your work?”

Lily spooned sauce onto her salmon. “I enjoy doing it. I sometimes like what I produce. Not always. I feel like less of an imposter when I’m painting than I did when I was a medical student, so I suppose that’s something.”

“Maybe after we’ve eaten you could show me just one of your paintings.” Cecilia focused on her food. “Now tell me about your day.”

Lily took a sip from her glass of iced water. “I spent most of it trying to scrub tomato sauce from white cabinets. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have known a family of six could make so much mess. This bread is from the new French patisserie near the marina, by the way. They’d just pulled it from the oven when I was cycling past, and the smell was incredible. I couldn’t resist.”

“I can see why.” Cecilia spread the bread with creamy butter. She noticed that Lily was eating more than she had been at the beginning of the week. “How does tomato end up on cabinets? That’s a story I need to hear.”

“According to the mother, who stayed just long enough to apologize for the mess, they were making homemade pizza.” Lily picked up her fork. “Judging from the amount I scrubbed off the walls, not much of it made it onto the pizza. I suspect they ate wood-fired dough. It has put me off ever having kids. I’m thinking I might settle for a dog instead.”

“Dogs can be as messy as kids. And they chew more.”

“Okay, then, maybe I’ll have a rabbit.” Lily finished her salmon.

Cecilia laughed. “Your partner might not go for that.”

“No partner.” Lily put her fork down. “Just me.”

“For now.”

“Probably forever.”

“You’ve been hurt?” She felt a flash of sympathy because she knew exactly how that felt.

Love could be sweet, but it could also sting.

“Yes, but it was nobody’s fault but mine. No drama there. No one to blame.” Lily nibbled some bread. “I fell in love with someone who didn’t share my feelings. I basically messed up my choice of job, and my choice of man. I’m winning at life.”

The flippant tone didn’t fool Cecilia. You didn’t have to be a psychologist to see that Lily had been through a tough time.

“You’re here,” she pointed out. “This was one of your choices. And that seems to be working out.”

Lily sat back. “That’s true. Now it’s your turn to tell me about your day.”

Her day?

She’d spent far too long thinking about the past, but she wasn’t going to admit that when Lily was trying so hard to make the cottage more welcoming for Cecilia.

“My day was productive. I cleared the second bedroom and the attic.”

“Oh, well done. Not the master?”

“No.” Cecilia spooned more sauce onto her plate. “Not yet.” And she felt like a coward for not doing it.

Lily leaned forward. “I could help with that if you’d like me to. When my grandpa died, I helped my gran clear out his things. She found it so upsetting. It might help to have someone do it with you.”

“You’re very kind.” If there was one thing she dreaded more than going into that room, it would be having someone with her to witness her distress.

Lily was looking at her. “Or I could do it for you if you prefer. I could pile the personal stuff into a box, and you could go through it separately on your own, when you feel up to it.”

She’d never met anyone as intuitive as Lily.

“I don’t know what’s in that room, but I don’t want to keep any of it. Not a single thing.” She said it with far more emotion than she’d intended, perhaps because Lily had already been so open with her, and she braced herself for the inevitable questions.

But Lily simply nodded. “In that case, why not let me clear it out? And why don’t I freshen the whole room while I’m at it? I could change the bedding. The cover in there is old-fashioned. Maybe a fresh coat of paint on the walls. We could give everything a modern, beachy feel.”

“There isn’t much point. I won’t be sleeping in there. I’m happy in the second bedroom.” On the other hand, why was she refusing? Lily was offering to do a job she’d been dreading. Why not let her help? “I suppose if you have time to clear it all out, then that would be good.”

“Great. It can be a job for this weekend. That reminds me.” Lily stood up. “I have something to show you. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw it yesterday. This is why I needed you to lend me your car today. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“You’ve bought something else? Lily, you must let me pay you.”

“It didn’t cost anything because it was damaged. I found it outside a house that was being renovated with a note saying to help myself. So I did as I was told and helped myself. Close your eyes.”

Cecilia dutifully closed her eyes, wondering what Lily had brought home this time. She heard the sound of something scraping along the floor and then a loud clonk as Lily put something heavy down on the deck.

“Okay.” She sounded breathless. “You can look.”

Cecilia opened her eyes and saw an old, battered bookcase, complete with splinters and chipped paint.

Lily blew strands of hair out of her eyes and sent her a triumphant look. “Isn’t it fantastic?”

“I—”

“I happened to notice that you have a lot of books stacked on the floor in the second bedroom. I thought they needed a home, and this should fit perfectly in the little nook by the window.”

Cecilia wasn’t sure what to say.

Lily waited expectantly. “You’re thinking it’s hideous.”

“I’m thinking it looks—distressed.”

Lily grinned. “Well, that makes three of us, doesn’t it? We can all be distressed here together. But not for long. At least, not for this bookshelf. Ta-da—” Like a magician, she produced a tin of paint. “It’s called Seafoam Green. Just a hint of the ocean. I bet the marketing people had fun with that. More appealing than calling it Lizard Green, I suppose. Anyway, it’s going to look great.”

Cecilia decided it was worth giving houseroom to the hideous bookcase just to see Lily looking so animated. “Does it have woodworm?”

“I don’t think so, but by the time I’ve finished the only thing living in this will be your books.”

How could she say no?

“If you think we should keep it, then we should do that. I suppose it would be a kindness to give it a home. It needs some love.”

And so did Lily.

Cecilia felt a ripple of frustration. Did Lily’s parents not see how creative she was? It shone through in everything, from the way she dressed to the food she prepared. It was almost as if they didn’t know their own daughter.

But she probably shouldn’t be judging. She was all too aware of her own deficiencies as a mother. Parenting was never straightforward. And it was easier to see both the big picture and the mistakes when the child in question wasn’t your own.

She was increasingly intrigued by Lily. There was no doubt that she had an eye for shape and shade, and for design. Cecilia was interested to see her paintings but so far hadn’t been able to persuade Lily to share her work.

“You don’t believe me when I say it’s going to be beautiful. Wait until I’ve finished with it. I can’t believe what some people throw away.” Lily put the tin of paint on the table and sat down again. “I was thinking that if being in the cottage is difficult for you, then maybe we could change it.”

“Change it?”

“Why not? Instead of tweaking things, let’s be bolder. For example the walls where you removed the paintings look—”

“Truly awful?”

Lily smiled. “I was going to say ‘bare.’ And while we’re thinking about the living room, we should consider moving the sofa so that it faces the view. And how would you feel about me painting the walls?”

“Did you have a color in mind?” The idea of redecorating the cottage hadn’t crossed her mind. There didn’t seem to be much point. But now she thought about it, moving the sofa was a good idea. Why on earth hadn’t they done so before?

“I was thinking bright red for one of the walls and luminous purple for the other two. Maybe add a gold stripe or two.” Lily looked at her, deadpan, and then laughed. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist. You should see your face.”

“You’re a wicked girl. And now tell me what color you really have in mind.”

“I thought I’d dilute the seafoam so that it’s more of a pale wash. You might fall in love with the place all over again.”

Was that what this was about?

“That isn’t going to happen.” Cecilia kept her voice gentle. “I don’t want you to go to so much trouble if that’s your objective.”

“It will be fun. And even if it doesn’t change the way you feel about the place, it will probably make it easier to sell if everything is freshly painted.”

“I suppose there is some truth in that.” Cecilia stood up and cleared the plates. “Stay there. You’ve had a busy day. I’ll make us coffee.”

“I’ll help.” Lily followed her into the kitchen. “The Girl on the Shore intrigues me.”

Cecilia stacked the dishwasher. “In what way?”

“It’s different from his later paintings. It’s more whimsical. Dreamy. His later works are bolder. I’m glad you left that one on the wall.”

She was probably a fool for doing so. She still didn’t know why Cameron hadn’t destroyed it as they’d agreed.

But Lily wouldn’t understand the significance of that particular painting, so the fact that she’d seen it didn’t matter. Still, Cecilia wasn’t keen to discuss it in any detail.

“The coffee is brewing so now would be a good time for you to show me your own paintings.” She saw the flicker of uncertainty cross Lily’s face. “I promise to say nothing. Nothing at all. I’ll just look.”

“But then I’ll be stressed trying to work out what you’re thinking. You were married to Cameron Lapthorne. You were surrounded by artistic genius. That’s pretty daunting for the rest of us normal mortals.” Lily looked anxious and then straightened her shoulders. “But if you’re sure that’s what you want. Probably best for me to hear the truth now, then I can give up dreams of being an artist before I waste as much time on it as I did medical school. Otherwise by the time I figure out what I’m going to do, my ability to do it will be long gone.”

Cecilia looked at her sweet, unlined face, the nose smattered with freckles, the dark hair that curled and tumbled. Today Lily was wearing a pair of denim shorts with a T-shirt in vibrant shades of turquoise and aqua that brought out the blue of her eyes.

“That T-shirt looks good on you. The design is unusual.”

Lily glanced down. “This is one of my more successful tie-dye experiments. There were a few disasters along the way, although I managed to salvage a few and turn them into hair scrunchies.”

Cecilia was fast learning that there were no limits to Lily’s creativity. “I want to see your work. Show me.”

She grabbed Lily’s arm and urged her through the living room to the studio at the back of the cottage. It was the first time she’d been in there since returning and she braced herself to be slapped in the face by the full force of memories.

Lily stopped dead at the door. “I’m really not sure this is a good idea.”

Cecilia wasn’t sure it was a good idea, either, although for different reasons.

She stepped past Lily and was pleasantly surprised to see the room almost empty. There were no traces of Cameron here. The sun beamed down through the tall windows, throwing light across the old, scuffed floorboards. Tall cupboards lined one entire wall. She knew they would contain paintings, but also paints, pastels, charcoal, old rags—everything. She remembered painting here in the early days, before she’d become part of the Cameron Lapthorne machine. There was an easel tucked into one corner and an old chair, paint spattered and with a spoke missing.

“I’ll show you the last one I did. The one I like.” Lily opened one of the cupboards and pulled open a drawer. “I know I shouldn’t have left it here, but I didn’t want to fold it and put it in my backpack.”

“I should hope not. Show me.” She stood over Lily’s shoulder and studied the painting on top. It was a watercolor of the Cape seashore, light and delicate, the colors soft and luminous.

Cecilia felt something stir inside her. A trickle of excitement. “Show me another.”

“If you hate that one then there’s probably no point in—”

“Let’s lay them out on the table.” Cecilia took the seashore landscape and placed it on the long table that ran along the length of the wall opposite. “I can’t see it like this. We need a frame.” She opened a different cupboard and stared at the frames. She and Cameron had kept a few for their own use. She pulled one out and dismissed it. Too small. She selected another, and then took a mount. “Let’s try this. Just to see how it looks.”

“It’s a beautiful frame, but it’s wasted on my—”

“Hush. I need to concentrate.” Cecilia flipped over the frame, inserted the mount and positioned Lily’s painting. “This is temporary, obviously.”

“Obviously.” Lily sounded faint.

Having secured the painting, Cecilia propped it against the wall and took several paces back so that she could study it properly.

She felt a thrill of excitement. Tears stung her eyes. It had been so long since she truly felt anything that she’d started to wonder if she’d be numb forever, but she felt something now. Something powerful and energetic that she hadn’t felt in a while.

She put her hand to her mouth.

“You’re trying to find something polite to say,” Lily muttered. “Sorry. I knew I shouldn’t have shown you. I’m just an amateur. I splodge paint on paper. That’s it.” Lily reached for the painting, but Cecilia caught her arm.

“Leave it. Don’t touch it.” She found it hard to speak, but she knew she had to. “Lily, it’s stunning.”

“Yes, it’s a great frame. It could make a stick man look good.”

“Not the frame. The painting.” Her mind was racing. Who should she talk to about this?

It was so long since she’d been here she was no longer part of the community. Did Seth’s family still own the gallery on Main Street? Probably not. Seth would be in his seventies. He was probably enjoying retirement somewhere.

She had no connections locally, and that was her own fault. But she knew, without vanity, that she could show up at any gallery and that they would pay her attention. But she’d need more than one painting. “Show me everything you have.”

“Honestly, I don’t think—”

“Lily! Show me.”

“You’re very bossy all of a sudden.” Grumbling, face pink, Lily lifted the rest of the paintings from the drawer. “A couple of these are pastels. I was experimenting. I won’t show you the oil. That was a disaster. If it had been fabric, it would have been turned into a scrunchie.”

“Give me the oil, too. Give me everything. I want to see all your ‘disasters.’” Cecilia spread them out, one by one. Her hands shook. “Who have you shown these to?”

“No one. Who would I show them to? Also, why?”

“And before that? Who saw your work?”

“Er—my mother. She always said, ‘very nice, honey,’ because that’s what mothers are supposed to say. Admiring what your child produces is sort of in the parental job description, isn’t it? I sketched a bit during lectures at college to relieve the boredom, but as I was supposed to be studying organic chemistry at the time the professor wasn’t impressed.”

“What about school? Your teachers didn’t say anything?”

“Not really.”

“Criminal.” Cecilia scanned the paintings and selected three. “We’re going to frame these three.” She almost confessed that she was going to show them to someone, but she stopped herself. If she was wrong, if she’d lost her touch, then Lily never needed to know. “Have you visited the gallery on Main Street?”

“There are several galleries on Main Street. You have to be more specific.”

“It used to be called Atlantic Art.” She’d spent hours there, soaking in the atmosphere, feeling part of something.

“It’s still there. I gaze at the windows all the time. They have wonderful paintings. And sculpture.”

The way Lily was looking at her made her wonder if the whole of her past was showing in her face.

“Maybe I’ll pay a visit.” She thought about Seth. She’d thought about him a lot since his card had arrived. “I used to know people, although I doubt they’re still there.”

“You’re reconnecting with the locals. That’s nice, but I don’t see what it has to do with my paintings.”

“Nothing at all.” She didn’t want to make Lily nervous or raise her hopes, particularly if nothing came of it. Maybe Seth wouldn’t be there. Maybe whoever owned the place now wouldn’t agree with her assessment of Lily’s work. “I’m glad you showed me these. They’re good, Lily. Better than good.” She saw a brief flicker of hope and excitement in Lily’s eyes and then it was gone.

“You’re just saying that because you’re afraid that if you’re honest I will bring back woodworm-infested bookshelves into your home.”

She had so little faith in herself. So little belief. But maybe that was what happened when you’d been trapped in the wrong pen.

“You may not be a doctor, Lily, but you’re definitely an artist. And don’t accuse me of being kind. I’m never kind. You have real talent. Raw, but full of promise.”

“You are kind. You’re letting me stay here.”

“And in return you are transforming the place and keeping me fed.” Cecilia took the paintings one by one and stacked them carefully. “I think you’re looking at artist in narrow terms. There are many different ways of satisfying that creative urge. For example, these days I mostly focus on my garden—” Cecilia frowned and turned her head. “Did you hear something? A car?”

“Didn’t hear anything. No one comes out this far.”

But someone had.

They heard the thump of a car door, the crunch of footsteps and the sound of a voice at the front door.

“Hello? Is anyone around?” The voice was deep and male, and Cecilia put down the last of the paintings. She immediately felt on edge and defensive. The last thing she wanted was visitors.

“I must have forgotten to close the front door.”

“Nanna?”

This time Cecilia recognized the voice. “That’s—it sounds like my grandson. It can’t be, surely. It isn’t possible. No one knows where I am. Todd?” She raised her voice. “Is that you?”

“Todd?” Lily’s face lost some of its color and she flattened herself to the wall of the studio as if she was trying to disappear. “You said no one knew you even owned this place.”

“They don’t. I don’t know how he could possibly have found me.” She felt a rush of frustration. Had he brought someone with him?

She patted Lily on the arm and walked out into the living area.

She was ready to be annoyed with him but then he strolled through the door, loose-limbed and handsome, strands of hair falling over his forehead. He gave her that warm Todd smile and irritation melted away.

She found it impossible to be angry with him. “Todd, what are you doing here?”

“I was trying to solve the mystery of the disappearing grandmother. I don’t suppose you’ve seen her, have you? She’s about this tall—” he lifted his hand to a point just below the height of his shoulders “—and fierce. Has a tendency to vanish without warning.”

“How did you find me?”

“I tried the FBI but they were busy, so I had to settle for exploiting technology. I tracked your phone.” He studied her, the laughter in his eyes replaced by concern. “Last time I saw you, you were upset. Then you disappeared. I was worried.”

“I told everyone I was fine.”

“Which is why I left you alone until now. But worrying about you was starting to keep me awake and I need my beauty sleep. I thought I’d come and check on you myself.”

“You—tracked my phone?”

“Yes. Not something I’ve ever done before, and I only did it this time because I was worried. And now I can see you’re alive and well and looking—” he narrowed his eyes “—actually looking a lot better than you have in a while—I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want.”

How did anyone resist him? You could hardly be angry with someone for caring too much, could you?

“We were about to have coffee on the porch. Would you join us?”

“Coffee would work. A cold beer would work better. I don’t suppose you happen to have one stowed in that fridge? This place is great. Did you book it online?” He glanced toward the kitchen and then back at her, his gaze sharpening. “Wait a minute. You said ‘we.’ You’re not alone?”

His eyes drifted to a point past her shoulder, and she saw his expression change from shock to pleasure. “Lily?”

Cecilia felt a flicker of surprise.

“You two know each other? Well, of course you do, as Lily is Hannah’s friend. I don’t know why that didn’t occur to me. She’s staying with me.”

And judging from the expression on Lily’s face she wasn’t too pleased to see Todd.

She masked her dismay swiftly, but not before Cecilia had glimpsed something close to panic in her eyes.

She remembered what Lily had said about loving someone who didn’t love her back.

Was it a leap to assume that person was Todd?

If so, she might not be the only one who wasn’t entirely pleased to see him here.