it in a year, or it doesn’t make me happy, I’m clearing it out. I’d rather they be put to good use.’
Clara and Helen had drifted out to wait in the parking lot, still catching up.
‘Sounds like you know more about yourself than you think,’ Chris said.
‘So tell me!’ she blurted. ‘Tell me what you have in mind. I’m dying to know but with Thelma and Louise hovering we couldn’t talk.’
He chuckled, reached out a hand and brushed a stray piece of hair from her eyes. ‘I told you I teach a night class.’
‘Yes.’ She drew the word out to show her growing impatience. ‘You don’t want me to paint, do you? Because, trust me, I’d be your first failure. I’d make you tear your hair out.’
He shook his head. ‘Nope. I need a model.’
She stood there, unsure of what to do or what to say. ‘A model?’
‘A nude model.’
‘A nude model!’
He pushed his hand over her mouth, laughing. ‘Don’t shout, Dani.’
When she inhaled she could smell the scent of him. It went right to her head like a drug. Chris somehow always managed to smell good. Even in the dreggy, soupy climate of an August in Maryland he’d always smelled good. Nothing had changed.
He looped his arm through hers and tugged her along toward the entrance. But they didn’t go out lest they be set upon by the mothers. That was how Dani was starting to think of them: the mothers. Almost like a horror-movie title. She giggled nervously.
‘Are you insane?’ she hissed by the door as the last of the attendees straggled past.
‘Nope. I’m perfectly sane. Look, you want to do something you’d never do. I need a beautiful model for my students to do a series of poses. It’s perfect. And it pays. You can use the money to restock your closet.’ He winked.
‘I … can’t. I mean … I couldn’t. That would be crazy.’ Her pulse pounded in her throat and she felt like her heart had lodged there.
‘No? See, I think you could.’
‘I …’
‘Just think about it,’ he said. ‘Give me your phone.’
Dani dug it out of her purse and handed it over without comment. He dialled a number and the phone in his pocket rang. He silenced it and then handed hers back.
‘There. Now you’re in my phone and I’m in yours. Just think about it. We can talk if you want. I can explain more.’
‘Christ,’ she said. ‘I’m thirty-two.’
‘You say that like it’s bad,’ he said, shaking his head. Those blue eyes bored into her and she felt naked right then. Was that what it would be like to shed her clothes in front of a bunch of strangers?
‘It’s not young.’
‘It’s not old.’
‘I’m probably not what you’re looking for.’
‘I wouldn’t have asked if that were true. I think not only do you know more about yourself than you think,’ he said, touching her elbow. ‘I think you’re more beautiful than you realise.’
‘Christopher!’
Dani and Chris turned, as if caught misbehaving, to see Clara in the doorway. ‘Let’s go. I told Virginia I’d be there at four. We have to go!’
He rolled his eyes so only Dani could see. Then he leaned in, gave her a quick, warm peck on the cheek and said in her ear. ‘Call me.’
Goosebumps sprang up along her neck from his warm breath and she nodded. It had been her first instinct to turn him down flat, right then, right there. But instead she said nothing. What the hell did that mean? Was she honestly considering standing nude in front of a classroom full of people?
In the car her mother was rummaging through a trash bag of clothing. ‘You should see this sweater I found. Amazing. It’s cashmere.’
‘Goat,’ Dani said, laughing.
‘Don’t be crass.’
‘It is goat!’
‘But cashmere sounds so much nicer, don’t you think?’ Her mother finally located her prize and pulled it out. A medium shade grey sweater with dark-dark red trim at the collar, cuffs and hem.
‘Doesn’t look like something you’d wear,’ Dani said. She turned the car back out onto the main road.
‘It’s not. Good Lord. I got it for you.’ Helen shoved the sweater into her lap as she drove.
‘Thanks for the goat sweater, Mom.’ She tried not to laugh, pressing her lips together in a tight line.
‘Let’s go eat. I’m starving.’
‘Where to?’
‘Bradley’s? I’d like a crab cake. Maybe two. Shopping for bargains makes me hungry.’
‘Too bad you couldn’t find an angora sweater,’ Dani said. ‘Then we’d have goat and rabbit.’ This time she failed to suppress her laughter.
Her mother swatted Dani’s arm. ‘Well, speaking of farm animals, did you see the cow eyes Christopher was giving you?’
Some foreign feeling that Dani couldn’t quite pin down flooded her system. Her ears buzzed slightly and she remembered him brushing that stray wisp of hair back. ‘Mom, Chris and I are just friends. You’re mistaken.’
Her mother snorted. ‘Hardly. I am an expert at spotting a smitten man. Besides,’ she said, rolling down her window just enough to let a little fresh air in, ‘he was madly in love with you in high school. Why should anything change? Clara said he’s single. She worries, you know. All that art, all the drive and fixation. No woman in his life. There was a girl, she said, once, they were together six years or so. She had hopes. Grandbabies, don’t you know. But it fizzled. And then poof!’
‘Poof?’
‘Poof! We run into them today and he’s making cow eyes at you.’
‘What exactly are cow eyes?’ Dani asked. They’d stopped at a red light and her mother took the opportunity to lean in, force her eyes wide and look somehow sorrowful and hopeful at the same time.
Dani barked laughter.
‘Those. Those are cow eyes.’
‘I think I’d remember Christopher looking at me that way. Because I would have run.’
‘Bah,’ said her mother. ‘You’re too wrapped up in denial. You should meet him for a drink,’ she said, helpfully.
‘I might.’ But in her head it was I will. Because I think I’m going to take my clothes off for his class …
* * *
She’d made it through crab cakes with her mother and her monologue about Christopher. Then Dani took her mom home, helped her with her bags and begged off home instead of staying for tea. Her excuse being she had laundry to do for work Monday morning.
It wasn’t a lie. But the solitude and quiet were the most important part. A full-blown introvert, Dani needed to decompress after the crush of people, the two older women, Chris’s proposal and just being around all that energy.
She hauled her bags inside, the cashmere sweater tossed over her shoulder, and dropped the whole shebang down the basement steps. She checked her messages, poured a glass of wine and turned on a cooking show. Something about grilling outside, something she’d never done in her entire life.
Her ironing stood in the corner of her bedroom, beckoning. Usually, she loathed the chore, but