Those Christmas Angels (Angels Everywhere #5)(41)

“I don’t know if Roy loves me—and it’s far too soon to know how I feel about him.”

“I’m so sorry. Please forget I said anything. I’m just a meddling mother who’s eager for grandchildren.” The instant those words were out, Anne realized she’d done it again.

“Grandchildren?” Julie’s eyes grew huge.

“Oh, dear,” Anne gasped. “I do seem to be having trouble keeping my foot out of my mouth.” She set her wineglass down, determined not to take another sip until she’d fully recovered from whatever had loosened her tongue. Every word embarrassed her more.

“I take it Roy was once in love with Aimee,” Julie said as the waiter brought their salads.

“He wanted to marry her, but she chose…someone else.” Anne hoped to avoid the more sordid details.

“Seeing how successful Roy is now, I imagine she’s sorry.” Suddenly Julie looked chagrined and lowered her fork. “Forgive me. That was a dreadful thing to say.”

Immersed in her own thoughts, Anne was confused. “Dreadful? How?”

“I didn’t mean to imply that the only reason Aimee or any woman would love Roy is because he’s successful.”

“I know you didn’t mean anything disparaging,” Anne assured her. “Besides, you’re wrong.”

Julie looked puzzled, and Anne felt obliged to explain. “Aimee doesn’t appear to have any regrets.”

“Then she’s happy?”

“I wouldn’t know. You see—” Anne took a deep breath “—she’s married to my husband.” Although she tried hard to keep her emotions out of it, Anne heard the hint of bitterness in her voice. “I’m sorry, Julie, I meant my ex-husband.”

The linen napkin on Julie’s lap slipped unnoticed to the floor. “No wonder Roy has a problem with trust,” she whispered. “His fiancée, his father…”

“Now you know,” Anne said softly. “Roy wouldn’t appreciate my telling you, though.”

“I won’t say anything.”

Anne appreciated that. “Actually, digging up the skeletons in our family’s sad history isn’t why I asked you to lunch,” she said. “I want to get to know you better.”

“I feel the same way. I loved the picture you painted on the window. Dad says everyone’s talking about it, and Roy speaks so fondly of you and—”

“What did he say?”

“Well,” Julie said, beaming Anne a bright smile, “he brags about you.”

“My son brags about me?” Anne hated to sound shocked—but she was. Half the time, she felt as though she was nothing more than an obligation in her son’s life. He only tolerated her concern and seldom sought out her company.

“He’s very impressed with your work. He told me about several of your pieces he’s displayed in the building. He promised to show them to me on my next visit.”

“If you can get in,” Anne teased. It’d been a source of amusement, the trouble Julie had getting past the security guard.

“Ah, yes, Jason, protector of the gate.” Julie rolled her eyes.

Anne had witnessed for herself how committed the young man was to keeping the poor girl on the other side of the company doors. She stabbed at a piece of spinach, suddenly realizing what Julie had said. “Let me make sure I understood you correctly. Did you really say Roy has my artwork hanging in his office building?”

“That’s what he told me.”

This was news.

“Five landscapes, I think he said. You didn’t know that?”

Anne shook her head. “I never told him my pseudonym.”

“He must’ve found it out on his own,” Julie said evenly.

“I…I don’t know what to say. Part of me is pleased and another part is irritated.”

“But why? He’s proud of your talent.”

“I’ve told him a dozen times that I refuse to let him support me. I want my paintings to sell on their own merit. The last thing I want or need, especially from my own son, is charity.”

“I doubt Roy would display work he didn’t genuinely like.”

Julie meant she was overreacting, Anne thought. “You’re right of course.” To cover her embarrassment, she dug into her salad.

Julie reached for a warm sourdough roll. “I’m glad you asked me to lunch.”

“As I said, I want to get to know you—and I want to thank you for being so patient with my son.”

Julie lowered her head and struggled to hide a grin. “We’ve certainly had our ups and downs. He’s surprised me more than once.”

Anne found this curious. “In what way?”

“Dinner on Thursday night—to take one example. I made a pot of black-bean soup and he seemed to really enjoy it. Plain ol’ black-bean soup.”

“You cook?”

Julie nodded. “A little. My twin sister is the real chef in the family, but I’m learning.”

“Are you close to your sister?”

“Very. She lives in Florida, but we talk almost every day via e-mail. I’ve told her about Roy.” Julie glanced down, as if she regretted telling Anne that.