If I Didn't Know Better (The Callaways #9)(20)

"I came here once with my aunt," Mia commented, glancing around the restaurant. The décor in the café was warm and friendly: seascapes decorated the walls, along with a display case of all the local kids' sports teams sponsored by the café. "It hasn't changed a bit."

"No, it hasn't," he muttered, his lips tightening as his gazed settled on two older men seated at a table by the window.

"Do you know them?"

"Yes. The tall guy with the glasses is Hal Conroy. The white bearded man is Bill Hooper. They're friends with my father. Hal works at Buddy's Bait and Tackle, and Bill runs a bar on Shellview."

"What does your father do?"

"He's a fisherman."

"And you said he's on vacation?"

"I did say that," he replied. "Do you know what you want to eat, Ash?"

She pointed to an item on the menu.

"Cheeseburgers are my favorite, too," he said. "How about some fruit to go with that?"

She shrugged and then sat back in her chair, her gaze turning to Mia.

Mia was happy to see the anger gone from Ashlyn's eyes. "Are we friends again?" she asked. She heard Jeremy's quick intake of breath and thought he probably didn't like her blunt question, but she had a bit more experience with pissed-off eight-year-old girls than he did.

Ashlyn slowly nodded.

"Good, because we have lots of work to do this afternoon, if you still want to help me. And I hope you do. You did so well on the coloring, I thought we might try some paint."

A light entered Ashlyn's eyes, with a more vigorous nod of agreement.

Mia smiled and turned her attention back to Jeremy, who looked a little confused by their exchange. "As I mentioned, I have a lot of siblings. We fought all the time, often about nothing, but we got over it faster if we just put it out in the open. My father hated drama. He always told me not to go to bed mad at anyone. If we were having problems with each other, he tried to get us to talk things out, not let them fester."

"And that worked?"

"Most of the time. There was still some sulking, and forgiveness didn't always come quickly, but at the end of the day, we always remembered that we were family."

"It sounds like you had a good family."

His tone told her that he had not had that same experience. She wanted to ask for more information, but he'd made it clear he did not want to discuss his father.

The waitress delivered their drinks and took their order, then headed back to the kitchen.

As Jeremy settled in his seat, he rolled his left shoulder and winced with the motion.

"How was your physical therapy?" she asked.

"Painful, but necessary."

"Can I ask you how you got hurt?"

"I fell," he said shortly.

She couldn't imagine that was true. Jeremy was physically fit and athletically gifted from what she could see. If he'd fallen, someone had pushed him. But apparently his injury was also off-limits. She frowned, not liking the boundaries he was setting up. Grayson had done the same thing, deciding what she could and couldn't talk about. "You know, conversation is a two-way street."

"Tell that to Ashlyn," he said dryly.

"I'm not talking to her; I'm speaking to you."

"If you want conversation, tell me about the big idea you mentioned earlier."

It was a good dodge, she thought, but since she suspected that some of his reticence had to do with Ashlyn's presence, she decided to go with the change in subject.

"After taking quite a few paintings out of the studio, I was impressed with the quality of the art. I think it would be a shame to give the paintings away or recycle them as if they were disposable when in reality they represent someone's artistic vision. So I'm thinking that I should display them somewhere, put on a show to pay homage to Aunt Carly and all the talented artists who stayed in her studio to pursue their dreams. Kara suggested I contact the museum or one of the galleries in town. What do you think?"

"I don't know much about art, but since you mentioned you worked in a museum, I'm guessing you do. Although, you skipped the part about why you're unemployed."

"Well, it wasn't because I wasn't good at my job."

"Now who's decided our conversation is a one-way street?" he challenged.

"It's not an interesting story. Right now I'm more interested in discussing my idea. I was thinking I could call the show Freedom in honor of the artists who found freedom from their emotional problems through art."

"Are you sure they all ended up free?"

She frowned. "Well, no, I don't actually know anything about the artists. But Aunt Carly did tell me once that she thought art therapy was an under-used method for freeing the soul. She got very spiritual and philosophical after her trips to India and Tibet. I think she even got to speak to the Dalai Lama."

"I wonder what that conversation was about," he mused.

"Knowing Aunt Carly, it was about living well, loving deeply, and peace in the world."

"Peace in the world—what a concept," he said, a cynical note in his voice reminding her that he'd seen a far different world than she had.

"Where did you fight, Jeremy?"