managed to deposit the kittens on the floor. She began filling the vase, automatically placing the flowers to the best effect. She had never been able to explain to her mother that beauty was not something to be hoarded. It was to be savored every moment, until your whole life was filled with it. If a vase broke, then you bought another one that was even prettier.
"Why, that's lovely, Katie. Just lovely. You have the touch." Lorna Melrose plunked two cups of peppermint tea down on the torn oilcloth that covered the table. "Sit down, sit down. You're always in such a rush. That's better." She bustled around the table. "Do you remember how you loved the flower vendors as a child? We used to walk along the street, and I'd tell you stories about the roses and mums and gladiolas."
Kate grinned. "The one I liked the best was about the white rose, and all the quests it went on trying to find colors so that it would be as beautiful as the red rose. Oh, Mother, you tell the most wonderful stories! When are you going to start writing some of them down?"
"I'm thinking about it, I really am. All the pictures in my mind, years and years of them. I've just never had the time to put them down on paper." Lorna sent the cracked sugar bowl sailing down the table toward her daughter. "What a life we had, your father and I! But we pulled through it together, didn't we?"
Kate didn't answer. She took a spoonful of sugar and dumped it into her cup. Her father had been a dour man, difficult to please. But her mother had never stopped trying, fluttering around him anxiously and beaming whenever he actually nodded his approval.
"What about that easel I bought for you?" Kate said at last. "You have the time now for your pictures and stories."
"With your sister Justine and the three children coming for dinner tonight? I haven't any time at all! But why don't you join us, Katie?"
"Maybe another time. Just do some sketches, why don't you? Just something to get started."
"Of course, dear. You know I've always wanted to paint. It was my big dream."
"Yes," Kate said softly. "That's what you always told me." She stood up and moved restlessly around the room. Her father had never wanted his wife to study art. He'd said it was a waste of time. He had said the same thing to Kate when she announced her dream of art school. Unlike her mother, she hadn't listened. She had defied him and followed her dream.
Now she frowned at the spot on the wall where her brother Benjamin had tried to glue a chair when he was nine.
"Mother, why don't you let me redo this house for you? It could be absolutely stunning. This place has good lines."
"And wouldn't I be proud! My house decorated by the best designer in California. Yes, dear, someday when we both have the time." Lorna settled into a chair for a moment, two kittens attacking each other in her lap. Kate eyed the one with black boots and a black tail.
"Aren't there more of them than the last time I was here?" she murmured.
"Goodness, do you really think so?" Lorna peered down at the floor and wiggled her slippers. They were pounced on by a tiger-striped kitten.
Kate took another turn around the room. These days she felt an overpowering restlessness whether she sat or stood.
"What's the matter, Katie?" Mrs. Melrose prodded. "You're different somehow today. Is it a man?"
"Good grief, Mother! Why on earth would you say something like that?"
"Lucky guess. What's his name?"
"That's ridiculous. There
is
no man," Kate lied desperately.
"Someday you'll understand, my dear. A woman just isn't complete without that one certain man."
"Mother!"
"Just as a man isn't complete until he finds the woman meant for
him
. Look at your father and me. He may be gone, the dear man, but what we had is still here. It's still alive in all of us."
Kate stopped pacing. She clenched her hands, wanting to protest. But she had long since learned that her mother would never, ever allow anyone to speak against her husband. His memory
"Why, that's lovely, Katie. Just lovely. You have the touch." Lorna Melrose plunked two cups of peppermint tea down on the torn oilcloth that covered the table. "Sit down, sit down. You're always in such a rush. That's better." She bustled around the table. "Do you remember how you loved the flower vendors as a child? We used to walk along the street, and I'd tell you stories about the roses and mums and gladiolas."
Kate grinned. "The one I liked the best was about the white rose, and all the quests it went on trying to find colors so that it would be as beautiful as the red rose. Oh, Mother, you tell the most wonderful stories! When are you going to start writing some of them down?"
"I'm thinking about it, I really am. All the pictures in my mind, years and years of them. I've just never had the time to put them down on paper." Lorna sent the cracked sugar bowl sailing down the table toward her daughter. "What a life we had, your father and I! But we pulled through it together, didn't we?"
Kate didn't answer. She took a spoonful of sugar and dumped it into her cup. Her father had been a dour man, difficult to please. But her mother had never stopped trying, fluttering around him anxiously and beaming whenever he actually nodded his approval.
"What about that easel I bought for you?" Kate said at last. "You have the time now for your pictures and stories."
"With your sister Justine and the three children coming for dinner tonight? I haven't any time at all! But why don't you join us, Katie?"
"Maybe another time. Just do some sketches, why don't you? Just something to get started."
"Of course, dear. You know I've always wanted to paint. It was my big dream."
"Yes," Kate said softly. "That's what you always told me." She stood up and moved restlessly around the room. Her father had never wanted his wife to study art. He'd said it was a waste of time. He had said the same thing to Kate when she announced her dream of art school. Unlike her mother, she hadn't listened. She had defied him and followed her dream.
Now she frowned at the spot on the wall where her brother Benjamin had tried to glue a chair when he was nine.
"Mother, why don't you let me redo this house for you? It could be absolutely stunning. This place has good lines."
"And wouldn't I be proud! My house decorated by the best designer in California. Yes, dear, someday when we both have the time." Lorna settled into a chair for a moment, two kittens attacking each other in her lap. Kate eyed the one with black boots and a black tail.
"Aren't there more of them than the last time I was here?" she murmured.
"Goodness, do you really think so?" Lorna peered down at the floor and wiggled her slippers. They were pounced on by a tiger-striped kitten.
Kate took another turn around the room. These days she felt an overpowering restlessness whether she sat or stood.
"What's the matter, Katie?" Mrs. Melrose prodded. "You're different somehow today. Is it a man?"
"Good grief, Mother! Why on earth would you say something like that?"
"Lucky guess. What's his name?"
"That's ridiculous. There
is
no man," Kate lied desperately.
"Someday you'll understand, my dear. A woman just isn't complete without that one certain man."
"Mother!"
"Just as a man isn't complete until he finds the woman meant for
him
. Look at your father and me. He may be gone, the dear man, but what we had is still here. It's still alive in all of us."
Kate stopped pacing. She clenched her hands, wanting to protest. But she had long since learned that her mother would never, ever allow anyone to speak against her husband. His memory
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