“The people with power do. You might want to take that bastard child of yours and leave town.”
Jess slapped Libby’s face so hard her palm stung. Then she opened the door and walked away.
Alice and Holly sat on the pier, taking advantage of the last of the late autumn sunshine before it dropped too low and the chill struck, reminding everyone winter was coming. Alice had lost her initial reservations about tutoring Holly during their first session a few weeks earlier, when she realized that teaching was a loose term. The reality was, Harry was paying her to draw while she gave some tips and encouragement to his daughter.
Knowing that she was taking his money to indulge herself in something she loved made her squirm a little. When those moments of guilt struck, she reminded herself that she did put time and effort into each session. She was already planning for when the weather got too cold to be outside and was excited about exploring some different mediums with Holly. With her work at Summerhouse, her opinion pieces for the Gazette, her occasional bar and boat jobs and tutoring Holly, her bank balance was finally edging forward.
“Aren’t you drawing the seal too?” Holly asked.
Alice’s own experience of having her work compared with others meant she never drew the same thing as Holly. Alice didn’t want to give her student any excuse to say, “Yours is better,” or “I’m not good enough.”
“I’ve drawn Salty lots of times already. Today I’m fascinated by the way the sun’s dancing around that bollard.”
“You should draw that bird too. It’s cool how it hangs its wings out like that.”
“It’s a cormorant drying its wings. Also, I’m not great at drawing birds.”
Holly’s pencil stalled on her sketch pad. “Dad says the only way to get better is to practice.”
Holly even said it the way Alice imagined Harry did—serious and solemn—like a lot of his conversation. It wasn’t that Alice disagreed with the advice—so much of what she’d conquered as a kid came from dogged practice. But she was close to thirty-four and the reality was, she really didn’t enjoy drawing birds. “Your dad makes a good point.”
“So, you should practice.”
“You know, I did practice for a long time, but birds are not my thing. You’re already way better at drawing them than me.”
Holly gave a dismissive shrug. “You’re just saying that.”
“I’m not.”
On the receiving end of Holly’s glare, Alice gave an exaggerated sigh. “Okay, I’ll give it my best shot. But you do realize you’re asking me to ruin my lovely bollard by drawing that shag.”
She sketched the white beak, the long black neck and the bottle-shaped body before feathering out the wings, but, as usual, her perspective was off. She laughed. “Now do you believe me? Your pelican’s so much better than this.”
Holly flashed her a shy smile. “I like drawing them.”
“I can tell.”
“Pelicans remind me of my mom.”
It was the first time Holly had volunteered any information about her mother and as Harry admitted to having no artistic ability, Alice wondered if Helene had passed on the gene. Then again, neither Karen or Peter drew either, so Holly’s mother might have been equally as stumped by stick figures as Harry. “Did your mom like pelicans?”
“She sculpted them in clay.”
“Wow!”
“And she took her best one to some place in Brisbane. They made a mold and filled it with bronze,” Holly said, clearly proud of her mother’s achievement.
The “mold” would have been wax, the “place” a forge and the molten metal poured into it under intense heat. The cost would have been in the thousands. “That’s very impressive.”
Holly nodded enthusiastically. “We’ve got one in our living room. Would you like to see it?”
“I’d love to.” Alice was surprised when Holly immediately placed her pencil into her tin and hurriedly closed her sketch book. “Hang on, Holly, I didn’t mean right now. Besides, your dad’s picking you up from here.”
The young girl’s face fell. “Oh, okay.”
Holly’s disappointment rode into Alice, taking the shine off what had been a very happy fifty minutes. She supposed she could take Holly home and see the bronze pelican, but she felt uncomfortable rocking up unannounced. She and Harry had an employer–employee relationship and he always delivered Holly to her. He’d never suggested that Alice come to the house and pick up Holly. Not that Harry wasn’t polite, but from the first time they’d met on the pier, Alice had sensed a reserve and a need for privacy. The only time it had wavered was at Relay for Life when his obvious concern for Holly had made him fight for her.
“It’s not that I don’t want to come, Holly. I’d love to see the pelican. It’s just you should probably ask your dad first.”
“Ask me what?”
Harry’s voice startled Alice so much she almost dropped her pencil into the bay.
“Daddy!” Holly scrambled to her feet. “I want to show Alice Mom’s pelican.”
Surprise lit up his eyes, immediately followed by hesitation, giving Holly the opportunity to add, “You said I could invite a friend home anytime I wanted.”
Alice stood and gave Harry the out he obviously wanted. “I was just explaining to Holly that today might not be convenient.”
“Please, Dad,” Holly begged. “Alice sucks at drawing birds. Seeing Mom’s pelican might help her.”
Harry’s face morphed from being cornered to horrified. “Holly! Manners! That’s a very rude thing to say.”
“I was trying to help!” Holly’s voice was thick with impending tears.
Alice gave the girl’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Actually, Harry, she’s right on the money. I totally suck at drawing birds.”
“See, Dad!”
Harry shoved his hands into his pockets and studied the toes of his boots, reluctance rising off him like steam. “I suppose as long as you don’t mind that the breakfast dishes are still in the sink and there’s a mountain of unsorted clean clothes on the couch and—”
“I’m coming to see the pelican, Harry, not to rate your housekeeping.”
He gave her a rueful smile. “I’ll hold you to that.”
“So,
