Night Road - Kristin Hannah [37]
Miles came up behind her, reached for her coffee cup and took a sip, then handed it back to her. “Let me guess: you don’t like the roses you planted last week and azaleas would be better.”
She leaned against him. “You’re making fun of me.”
“Not at all. What are you going to do today?”
“Lunch with my mother.”
He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Don’t let her bully you.”
“Yeah, right. I just have to get through it.” Smiling at him, she went into the bathroom and took her shower. Afterward, she kissed Miles good-bye and started her day. She corralled the kids to breakfast, cleaned up the kitchen after them, and sent them to school with hugs and kisses.
She was out the door only an hour behind them. She dropped off Miles’s dry cleaning, picked up some paperwork from the college counselor she’d hired, got her nails done, returned the movies they’d rented, and stopped by the grocery store to order a fresh, free-range, organic turkey for Thanksgiving.
With all those island stops, she made it to the ferry terminal with seconds to spare, driving right onto the boat. The channel crossing took less than forty minutes. In downtown Seattle, she found a parking spot a few blocks from the gallery and pulled in at exactly 12:06. Only a few minutes late.
On the sidewalk out front, she straightened, stiffened her spine, and set her chin up, like a prizefighter about to face a bigger opponent. In taupe wool pants and a creamy cashmere turtleneck, she knew she looked good … but was it good enough for her mother’s critical eye?
She sighed at that. It was ridiculous, all this worry about her mother. God knew Caroline didn’t worry about Jude’s opinion. She resettled her purse over her shoulder and headed to the gallery. On the wall out front, a discreet sign welcomed her to JACE.
She stepped inside. It was a big, brick-walled space, dotted with large mullioned windows. Gorgeous paintings hung one after another, illuminated with precision. As always, there was a sadness to the work that made Jude frown. It was all in greens and browns and grays.
“Judith,” her mother said, coming forward. She was dressed in slim black pants and a rose-colored silk blouse. A gorgeous stone necklace offset her green eyes. “I expected you a few minutes ago.”
“Traffic.”
“Of course.” Mother’s smile was as brittle as old bones. “I thought we could eat outside today. It’s so unexpectedly lovely.” Without waiting for a response, she led Jude through the gallery and up to the rooftop patio that overlooked Alaskan Way. From here, the view of Elliott Bay and Pine Island sparkled in the pale autumn sunlight. Large sculpted evergreens grew from huge terra-cotta pots. A table had been set with silver and crystal. Everything was perfect, as usual. Lovely, as her mother would have said.
Jude sat down, scooting in close.
Mother poured two glasses of wine and then sat down across from Jude. “So,” she said, lifting a silver lid and serving up the salad niçoise, “what are you doing with yourself these days?”
“The kids are seniors in high school. That keeps me pretty busy.”
“Of course. What will you do when they go to college?”
The remark was unsettling. “I saw a master gardener class that looked interesting,” she said, hearing—and hating—the anemic tone in her voice. Lately, she’d begun to wonder exactly the same thing. What would she do when her children were gone?
Her mother looked at her. “Would you ever consider managing JACE?”
“What?”
“The gallery. I’m getting older. Most of my friends retired long ago. You’ve a good eye for talent.”
“But … the gallery is your life.”
“Is it?” Her mother sipped her wine. “I suppose. Why couldn’t it be yours as well?”
Jude considered that. She had watched her mother work this gallery for years, giving up everything else in her life. She’d even given up painting. Nothing mattered to her mother except the