Sandpiper Way (Cedar Cove #8)(46)

“Sorry, I forgot.”

Her daughter lingered in the kitchen, which encouraged her. Shirley dipped her spoon into the soup, afraid to say anything more.

She couldn’t resist for long. “Did you and Shaw have a good time?” The question was a risk but Shirley hoped it was benign enough not to offend her daughter. She took another spoonful of soup—and did her best to ignore the hickey on Tanni’s neck.

Tanni shrugged. “I guess.”

She wanted to ask where they’d gone, but decided not to jeopardize this opportunity for communication.

“I was on the phone when you came in,” Shirley said pleasantly. “The man who bought the Harbor Street Gallery wants to meet with me next week.”

“I heard the gallery sold,” Tanni murmured. “What does he want to talk to you about?”

“The renovation he’s got planned. Apparently he’s interested in my ideas.”

“Oh.” Tanni pulled out a chair and sat down across from her.

Shirley tried to conceal her surprise—and relief. Then it dawned on her that if Tanni was willing to talk, it was probably because she wanted something.

“Do we have plans for Christmas?” she asked.

“Yes.” Shirley didn’t elaborate.

“Like what?” The question sounded more like an accusation than a request for information.

“Your brother will be home and—”

“Big deal.”

“And,” Shirley added pointedly, “we’re going over to see your grandparents.” Jim’s parents lived in Seattle, and Shirley felt it was important for their sakes, as well as Nick and Tanni’s, that they keep in touch.

“I can see them anytime,” Tanni protested.

“True, but unless you set a date, it doesn’t happen. They’re really looking forward to our coming.”

Frowning, Tanni glanced down at her hands; she seemed to be struggling, caught between duty and desire.

“Did you have someplace you’d rather go?” Shirley asked without censure.

Her daughter shrugged. “Shaw and I…” She didn’t complete the thought.

“Would you like to invite him to join us?”

Tanni raised her head. She seemed to seriously consider the question. “I might.”

“He’s welcome.”

“He’s talented, Mom.”

Shirley didn’t want to appear dense, but she had no idea how this supposed talent manifested itself. “In what way?”

“Art.” She sighed as if it should’ve been obvious.

That explained a great deal. Tanni was gifted, too, although she hadn’t let Shirley see her work in ages. No one was more surprised than Shirley when she learned that her daughter had won a local art competition. Tanni’s teacher had entered the drawing and hadn’t told her. Tanni had been upset, insisting the whole thing was “meaningless.”

“Would you like me to look at his work?” she offered casually.

Again her daughter mulled over the question. “He’s not ready yet, but I think he will be soon.”

“That’s fine, then. Whenever he’s ready.”

“The thing is…” Tanni paused.

“Yes?”

“The stuff he draws might bother you.”

“I can look beyond the subject matter,” she assured her daughter.

“Could you…” Tanni seemed uneasy about whatever she wanted to ask.

“Could I what?” Shirley pressed.

“If you think his work is good—and I do, Mom, I really do—could you talk to Mr. Jefferson about Shaw?”

Shirley needed a moment to make the connection. “You want me to find out if he’d be willing to display Shaw’s art?”

Tanni’s eyes met hers and she nodded.

“Well, if he’s as good as you say, I wouldn’t have a problem with that.”

Tanni smiled at her, something she hadn’t done in months. Granted, it was more of a quirk of her lips than a real smile. But it would do.

“So…you think he’s got talent.”

Tanni nodded.

“More than you?”

Her daughter hesitated and then responded without vanity. “No, but then he doesn’t have a mother who’s an artist or a dad who was really interested in art, so he hasn’t got that advantage.”

Her heart warmed at the acknowledgment—and at Tanni’s reference to her dad. She hardly ever spoke of him, let alone in such a natural, easy way.

“I’m teaching him everything I learned from you guys,” she was saying.

In the early years, before Shirley had begun to work with fabric, her daughter would play at her feet while Shirley drew. She gave Tanni her first sketchbook when she was four and the girl had been drawing from that point on. Shirley was devastated when she’d learned that Tanni had destroyed those early sketchbooks after Jim’s funeral.

“I’m happy you’re teaching Shaw.”

“The relationship isn’t as one-sided as that makes it sound,” Tanni said, smiling again. Her fingers crept up to cover the hickey on the side of her neck. “Shaw’s teaching me quite a bit, too.”

That was exactly what she was afraid of.