Contessa by Lori L. Otto Read Free Book Online Page A

more verbal–more real –with their feedback. I was lucky to have Granna from a young age. She wiped away many tears when I was younger. I can remember an argument she had with my dad after one of these critique sessions. My dad didn ’ t think it was good for her to be so honest with me. He hated to see me cry, and did everything possible to avoid that. It was one topic they had agreed to disagree on. Granna was stubborn. Dad had a lot of respect for her, but was never a fan of confrontation. I knew Mom had something to do with it. She was always the intermediary.
    “ Is everyone ready to see my brown painting? ” I ask the kids. Most of them put their brushes down; a few continue to focus on their work, and I would never be one to interrupt their creative process. I unwrap the painting once I see Granna is settled in a seat in the back of the class.
    She gasps loudly when she sees it, covering her mouth with both of her hands. Even from here, I can see her shaking. My heart pounds, afraid she doesn ’ t like it. It would hurt me dearly–this once–if she didn ’ t like it.
    “ He ’ s cute, ” Amanda says with a laugh.
    “ I know, ” I agree.
    “ Is that your boyfriend? ” another young girl asks.
    “ No, actually. ” I pause, making eye contact with Granna. She nods her head at me. “ This is Donna ’ s son, Nate. You know that little boy in the painting over there? ” I point to a portrait Nate had actually painted when he was young. “ This is him, grown up. This is who our program ’ s named after. ”
    All the kids turn around as they hear a whimper fall from Granna ’ s lips. She takes a deep breath and swipes at a few tears, but then addresses us all. “ Wasn ’ t he handsome? ” she says, standing and walking toward the painting and me . “ And Livvy, this is gorgeous. It ’ s simply stunning. I think it might be the best thing you ’ ve ever painted. ”
    “ Thanks, ” I tell her, happy to receive her compliment, her hug, and her kiss on the cheek. “ It ’ s for you. ”
    “ Oh, thank you, sweetheart. Should we hang it here? ”
    “ No, I think you should take it to your house. ”
    “ I know the perfect spot, ” she says. “ It ’ s lovely. Thank you so much. ”
    “ You ’ re welcome. I stole the picture out of your wallet. I hope you didn ’ t miss it. ”
    “ I did, but I have copies. I just wondered what happened to it. ”
    “ You can have it back. ”
    “ You can keep it, Livvy. As a reminder of this amazing work of art. I just can ’ t believe it. ” She steps aside and admires it while I ask the kids for their opinions. I have to remind the girls of the class that we ’ re discussing color theory, not a cute boy.

    Granna offers me a ride home after all the kids have been picked up. Amanda ’ s mom was thirty minutes late, but she was happy for the extra time she got to spend painting. I tell Granna to go ahead. She always asks, but I only accept her offer when the weather is bad.
    “ Livvy, ” a voice calls to me as soon as she drives away. It ’ s Jon, a boy who used to be a student here with me until a little over a year ago. I guess he ’ s not really a boy anymore. The soft sideburns and hints of whiskers on his chin prove that my former childhood friend is becoming a man. A very attractive one, at that. I ’ d always had a crush on him, and his early teasing turned into genuine interest and attention, so I ’ d wondered if he might like me, too. When he stopped coming to the school, I assumed he didn ’ t.
    “ Hey, Jon! How are you? ”
    “ I ’ m good. I was hoping you ’ d be here. I heard you were teaching a class. ”
    “ Who ’ d you hear that from? ”
    “ The newsletter, ” he laughed. “ I still subscribe, you know. Just because I don ’ t go to the workshops anymore doesn ’ t mean I ’ ve left Nate ’ s Art Room behind. ”
    “ Cool. ”
    “ Plus, I have to keep up with you somehow. I know how your dad abhors things