Quinn had placed Maya on a background photo of Acton Academy, floating on a cloud above the building. Her arms were shoulder height in a perfect Viennese waltz hold, her head turned so she was looking down at the school over her shoulder. Her face was a picture of perfect concentration, but her lips were pulled into a tentative smile. Quinn had perfectly captured the marriage of effort and pleasure involved in executing the dance. The work was beautiful and would fit right in on the walls of Acton Academy.
When she looked at the second version Quinn had made, Maya’s first thought was that it would never be allowed to grace the Acton hallways, nor should it be.
In this image, Maya was floating above the skyscrapers of New York City. Quinn had changed the color of Maya’s dress into emerald green and had made it look like the dress was being blown upward by a gust of wind, revealing much more of Maya’s legs than was appropriate for displaying in a school. Her right arm was extended to the side while she had her left hand on her jutting out hip. Her head was thrown back and she was laughing as if she’d been caught in a moment of pure ecstasy.
Maya didn’t know what kind of material had come out of the photo shoot and Quinn might well have captured her in a bolder stance or in the middle of a move she hadn’t been able to—or wanted to—stop. If she remembered correctly, which was hard because so much had happened since, Maya had been trying to impress Quinn. She’d been trying to show her that the passing of time hadn’t had that much of an effect on her or her dance technique.
In this image, it seemed like the tables were turned, and Quinn was the one trying to impress Maya with her photographic eye and her editing technique. It was working. Maya could not imagine looking as stunning in real life as she did in the photo. Was this how Quinn saw her?
Maya’s gaze was drawn to a black mark just above her knee. She expanded the picture and zoomed in. She burst into a chuckle. In the picture, Quinn had given her a tattoo. Life is for living, it said, in the same font as Quinn’s own tattoo.
Quinn Hathaway was always ready to surprise her. She’d done so last weekend when she’d taken her dancing and she’d done it again now. She’d also very much managed to surprise Maya ten years ago, on that hot summer weekend.
Quinn was smoking hot, talented, full of surprises, and very clever. And she liked older women—Maya in particular. The only thing stopping Maya from calling Quinn right there and then was her own fear. But, as Quinn had just expertly reminded her, life was for living. Not for abandoning your dreams because of too much trepidation.
For that reason, instead of walking straight home after work, Maya visited her son. Maya often stopped by unannounced and Tommy always looked relieved when she arrived.
“Ethan’s having one of those days,” Tommy said. “Surely he can’t be teething yet.”
Maya took the baby from him so he could take a break. “It’s a little early for that.” Her gaze was drawn to the TV. “Look, Ethan, it’s mommy,” Maya said, as though Ethan could already see that it was his mother presenting the news.
“I’ve tried that, but it’s not working. I’ll see if a bottle will calm him down.” Tommy headed to the kitchen. Maya followed him with a crying Ethan on her arm. She rocked him back and forth while gently rubbing his back. Even though he was crying, it was lovely to feel him in her arms. As though his grandmother’s arms were made of different, more soothing material, Ethan soon fell silent. His breathing slowed and he fell asleep with his face pressed against Maya’s shoulder.
“You were like this with your father,” Maya whispered. “You’d cry all afternoon, until your dad came home from work and I’d hand you to him and you’d abruptly stop.”
“I’m so glad you’re here, Mom.” Tommy stepped closer. He lay his hand on Ethan’s head gently while he kissed Maya on the cheek. “Do you want to put him in his crib?”
“It’s okay. I’ll hold him for a while. Make sure he’s fast asleep. How’s work?” Maya asked while she slowly walked around the kitchen with Ethan.
“Working from home with a small baby isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
They talked about work, Ethan, and his part-time nanny while they settled into the living room couch and watched the rest of the news.
“I was just telling Ethan that he’s lucky that he can see his mom on TV when she’s at work.” Tommy sounded exhausted.
“He’s a very lucky boy.” Even though Maya’s arm was getting tired, she couldn’t bring herself to put Ethan in his crib.
“How are you, Mom?” Tommy sent her a smile. “I feel like I haven’t asked you that in such a long time.”
“I don’t expect you to worry about my well-being at all until Ethan’s first birthday.”
“I’m not worried. Just curious as to how my mother’s doing.” Tommy seemed to relax a little.
“I’m doing fine.” Now that Ethan had settled down, Maya remembered her primary reason for stopping by. “I haven’t had a chance to tell you, but guess who I ran into a few weeks ago when I had my portrait taken for Acton?”
Tommy huffed out some air. “Can you narrow it down? It could be anyone.”
“She used to live next door to us in Milbury.”
Tommy narrowed his eyes. “Quinn Hathaway?”
“The one and only.” A shiver ran up Maya’s spine. It felt inappropriate while holding her grandson. “She just texted me the picture she shot for Acton.” Maya pushed herself up from the couch. “I’ll show you.
