Raven drove onto Stepping Stones Academy grounds and her heart filled with peace, as it did each of the two times a week that she volunteered here. In a suburb of Maryland, the private school was set on three acres of land, which included fields for sports, three smaller structures for the arts and a big brick classroom building. They accepted only grades five through twelve students, all with special needs.
Stepping Stones’s mission was to provide a safe and nurturing environment, to be developmentally appropriate, student-centered and individualized. The program also facilitated students having fun while learning to get along with their peers. The curriculum stimulated their talents, abilities, strengths. The latter was where Raven came in.
Her pass was okayed at the door, and she hustled to the art building, which was connected to the main structure. As she entered one of the large rooms, she was comforted by the scent of art: paint, of course, but there was also a hint of charcoal, turpentine and chalk. “Hi, Macy.”
From a table where she sat, Macy Marino looked up. She was loosely related to the Gentileschis because one of the Marinos had married Raven’s older sister Calla.
The woman had pretty, strawberry-blond hair back in a braid, her hazel eyes bright. She even sported freckles. The typical girl next door. Her son Simon was a student here.
“Hey, Raven. How are you today?”
“I’m good when I come to school every single time.”
“I know the feeling.” She checked the clock. “The kids’ll be here in five minutes.”
She joined Macy at the table.
“You look nice today.”
“Not my style, but Lexy said these colors are soothing.” Raven had bought school clothes in pretty summer colors that didn’t suit her at all. But she didn’t want to wear black for these visits. It seemed as if dark, haunting colors might have a negative effect on the students.
“So, Devon asked to work with you again.”
“Great.”
Devon was a tenth grader who suffered from severe anxiety. Mostly, she was a sweetheart, but when she had flare-ups of the condition, she could be tough.
“I’m going to do Emotion Painting with her.” An activity in art therapy to help kids express their emotions and stand back and see a visual representation of what they were feeling. The result was enlightening.
Macy said, “You’re so creative.”
“Thanks.”
Three kids appeared at the door. Macy stood. “Hello, everybody. Come inside.”
Devon’s gaze stayed on Raven as she walked farther into the room.
“Devon, you go with Ms. Raven today.”
The expression on the girl’s face, which was so often filled with sadness, was like the sun coming out on a dreary February day.
Raven stood. “Let’s go over to the space by the window.”
The room was sectioned off for individualization. When they could bring in another artist, a third person worked with a student. Raven’s area was a soothing slate blue with big windows which allowed in the morning light. Two easels were set up, sporting large tablets of drawing paper. A table had been put next to each easel holding acrylic paint, paintbrushes, water containers, plastic mixing trays, paper towels and pencils. Devon picked up a pink painting smock, donned it, then sat in front of one station. Raven put on similar clothing and dropped in front of the other.
“Tell me how we take care of our tools, kiddo.”
“Clean brushes before dipping into a new fresh color. Treat the brushes good by not squishing them down on the paper. Try not to drip paint.” She rolled her eyes at the quiz. “What are we painting?”
Kids were always anxious to get stuff on the canvas. “We’re doing an emotion painting. Can you describe what you’re feeling today in words?”
“Do I have to?”
“No, of course not. But we do have to talk about a few things. Study the palette. Now tell me what emotions an individual color emits to you?”
“Red is angry. Yellow happy. Black sad. Blue can be happy or sad.” She commented on the other hues in the rainbow.
“Okay, how about lines? What kinds are there?”
“I don’t know.”
“Draw some lines on the paper.”
“But I’ll ruin it.”
“We’ve got lots.”
The girl drew a straight line, a squiggly one, a jagged one and a zig-zag. Some were short, some long.
“Which is happy?” Raven asked.
“The squiggly one.”
“Sad?”
“The jagged one.” Devon’s gaze narrowed. “It’s mad, too.”
“What about the zig-zag?”
“More mad.”
“All right. Start your picture knowing all that.”
“You paint, too.”
“I will.”
Devon ripped off the line sheet and picked up a brush. Raven mixed a color, too, but didn’t look at Devon. She knew the girl got nervous over being watched.
So, she asked herself as she stared at the blank canvas, How are you feeling today, Raven?
Still frustrated from yesterday’s aborted work with Blake Parker. Still happy about the show. She’d concentrate on the latter. Raven began to paint.
And lost herself.
* * *
Frustrated, Blake tossed the ball into the air, raised his racket and smashed the little blue sphere into the wall in front of him. It hit exactly where the floor met the wall and bounced up in a lob. His buddy, Caleb Cramer, sprinted to the farther wall and returned the shot. The volley went on for three more rounds, then Caleb tried a corner shot and it fizzled out.
“My game,” Blake said as he walked to the side to get a towel. Sweat dripped down his face and dampened the shirt of his white tennis outfit. The activity was invigorating.
Caleb stood on the court. “One more game?”
“You’re a glutton for punishment. We already played two.”
“And we’re tied.”
“All right.”
Aces, lobs, bullet shots and those that died took up the next half hour. When they finished, they both headed toward their things. “Water or juice?” Caleb asked.
“Both, actually. You got time?”
“I run
my business so I’m the boss. You?”
Blake sighed. “I wanted to meet with the exhibitor for the new art
wing, but she was busy. You’d think she’d free herself
up for the biggest show of her career.”
“Yeah, you would. What’s she doing that’s so important?”
“She wouldn’t tell me. To be fair, I left her in the lurch yesterday to go to the hospital. She can meet tomorrow.”
They’d walked upstairs while they talked and got drinks, then settled in cushioned chairs with just the right amount of support.
“To privilege,” Caleb said, to needle Blake. They played at his country club which had the best amenities. His friend eschewed these kinds of trappings.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I inherited my wealth and you’re a self-made man.”
Caleb had been his roommate at Yale and became a lifelong friend. He’d gotten scholarships and had jobs during college, but he was ambitious and smart as a whip. He still wore his blond hair long and favored casual clothes. Now, he took a bead on Blake. “I’m kidding. I know how hard you work.”
Blake downed some juice. Tart and ice-cold, it hit the spot. “I’m touchy, I guess. I get this subtle vibe from Ravenna Marcello that she thinks I’m a snob.”
“That’s the modern artist who has the show, right?”
“Uh-huh. She hasn’t said much, but she looks at me with disdain, I guess.”
Caleb’s laugh was full and hearty. “Not the reaction you usually get—or got—from women.”
“I guess not. Plus she’s prickly.”
“You’re used to that from painters.”
“Something about her rubs me the wrong way.”
“What’s she like?”
He pictured her. “Dark hair, messy. Black as onyx eyes. Wears black all the time.”
His friend’s gaze narrowed on him. “Who’d you last feature in the gallery?”
Blake named the guy.
“What color are his eyes?”
“Excuse me?”
“What color are his eyes?”
“I have no idea.”
“Don’t you think it’s interesting that you can describe this woman to a tee?”
“She’s very striking.”
“Hmm.”
Blake knew that expletive. “For god’s sake, Caleb, I’m engaged.”
Caleb didn’t respond.
“I know you don’t like Audrey.”
“I don’t like her for you. She’s too...perfect.”
“Beautiful, sophisticated, smart and successful are pretty attractive.”
“No, I don’t mean that. She loves you, I know, but she’s too devoted to you. You need more of a challenge.”
“No, buddy, you need more of a challenge. I like simpler relationships.”
“I’m not trying to cause any problems.”
“I know.” This man unconditionally supported him. And vice versa. “Any women in your life since your breakup with Judith?”
“No.” His eyes lit. “Hey, why don’t you introduce me to Ravenna? She sounds like my type.”
“I guess she is. But when you break her heart, she’d blame me, so no introductions.”
“All right.”
“Now tell me about work.” Caleb ran a very successful nonprofit organization which got grants for renewable energy.
Blake tried to concentrate on the very worthwhile endeavor of his friend that Blake himself supported through personal donations and money from the gallery. But his mind kept drifting. When he realized his thoughts went to Ravenna’s eyes, he cursed Caleb’s wisecrack.
* * *
The next day Raven arrived at Parker’s with the rest of her paintings and noticed Blake’s car was already here. Of course, in addition to planning her show, he ran the gallery. Leaving her stuff in the SUV, she walked inside and headed for his office.
Blake was on the phone. “I told you we needed the benches by next week. They’d better be here, Williams, or I won’t work with you again.”
Silence on his end. Then, “I hope so,” and hung up. And noticed Raven.
“Problems?”
“I ordered curved benches for the sections in the new wing and beneath the windows in the hallway. Williams, my supplier, is behind. I hate when people don’t hold up to their commitments.”
“Did he have a good
reason?”
“No. He said the work was going slowly.”
“Then I’d be pissed off, too.”
Taking a deep breath, he sat back in his chair. “So, you’re here. Did you bring the paintings?”
“I did. They’re in the car.”
He picked up his phone again. Pressed a button. “Hi, it’s Blake. Can I have two maintenance people up here?” He waited. “Thanks.” To Raven, he said, “The guys are coming now. We’ll meet them at the front door.”
Once the artwork was deposited in their correct section—a fairly big job—Blake scanned the collection in first. “Wow, they’re bigger than I remembered.” Before he chose to feature her at Parker’s, he’d insisted on seeing the real paintings, not only the slides.
“I didn’t paint them for any specific area. I let inspiration guide me on the canvas.”
“Maybe you should have been more cognizant of the size.”
That got her back up. “Two-thirds of them were already done, Blake.”
Impatiently, he said, “I hope this isn’t a problem.”
Trying to be the adult, she said, “We’ll have to adjust. Cut down the number of paintings, if necessary.” She couldn’t help but add, “Adjusting isn’t your forte though, is it?”
His shoulders tensed. Today he wore an expensive navy sports coat, a pristine light blue shirt and high-quality dark pants. Raven knew good clothes when she saw them. “I like order. But I know there will be variables putting on exhibitions.”
She walked over to the main painting lying against the wall where it would eventually be hung. She ripped off the wrapping.
For a moment, he stood staring at Silenced. Raven tried to view her work through his eyes. She wondered if he saw what she saw. Red swirling circles in thick brush strokes, each getting smaller as they went inward. The very last was simply a thick black dot. Hence the name. For the background, she’d used black and gray sections in a variety of shades and shapes going in different directions.
Finally, he shook his head. “Amazing.” He turned back to her. “Shall we unwrap the others and see where they’d best be put?”
They lined the paintings up against one wall and both stood there studying them. “For the paintings on either side of Silenced, I’d choose these.” Raven pointed to two.
“Let’s try them in that order.”
They set each a few feet away from the main work.
Blake frowned. “That’s too much red together.”
“They all have red in them, Blake.”
“Some more than others.” He glanced around the room. “So, if the viewer starts off to the right, I’d like to see more contrast.”
“I’m not sure I agree.”
He turned. Raised that damn eyebrow again. “We’ll try it my way first.”
Raven bit back a retort. He was in charge. “Fine.” They both reached for the same painting. His palm brushed the back of her hand. His was big and warm. She moved away quickly and went down to another painting that contrasted to Silenced with the red, but also had pinks peeking out and a light blue shone through. It was called Sunset.
“That’s great,” he said, looking at the two of them.
She wasn’t sure. So she said, “Why don’t you take a shot at setting up all seven of them, and I’ll see if I agree?”
“Agree? Your contract says you’ll have input, Ravenna, not approval.”
That had been a stickler for her. “I realize that. But you have to take my input seriously instead of being your usual autocratic self.”
“I’m not autocratic.”
Now she raised a brow, too.
“Whatever.”
“Why are you so prickly today?” she asked in exasperation.
He took in a deep breath. “The problem with the benches bothers me. And then there’s Anderson. He’s still in ICU. And his daughter’s a wreck.”
“I guess those are acceptable reasons. Go ahead and put them where you want.”
Once he did, she had changes. After another hour of arranging, he pushed back his perfectly coiffed blond hair. “Let’s leave this room as it is.” He checked his watch. “I have a business lunch. You take a break, too, and we’ll continue this at around three.”
“You take a two-hour lunch?”
“Not that it’s your business, but no, I don’t usually. I have to drive twenty minutes to meet him.”
“Fine. My sister’s off today. Maybe I’ll go over there for lunch.”
“Without an invitation?”
“I’ll call her, of course. But, for the record, we drop in on each other whenever we want.” She cocked her head. “Do you have siblings, Blake?”
He shook his head.
“That explains a lot.”
He seemed confused by that.
Boy, they couldn’t be any more different.
* * *
Yawning, Evvie opened the door to the house she still lived in, though she was moving in with her fiancé soon. “Hey, Raven, come in.”
“Were you sleeping, sweetie?”
“I just got up, honestly.” She hugged Raven. “It’s so good to see you.”
Since the girls told each other the truth, Raven believed she hadn’t awakened her sister. She walked into Evvie’s living room. Calmness, peace and serenity descended on her. “What do you do to this place? Cast a spell on it?”
Evvie’s pretty forehead furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“It’s always so peaceful here. I’d paint the feeling in blues and greens and whites.”
Evvie laughed.
“What?”
She gestured to the furniture.
“Oh, yeah, I see. That’s how you decorated.”
“Sit.” When Raven put her canvas bag on the table and sat, Evvie sniffed. “Do I smell food?”
“Uh-huh. Do any smells make you sick?”
“No, with the end of the first trimester, the nausea vanished. Actually, I’m famished.”
“Eat here or the
porch?”
“The porch. The windows are open, and it’s perfect out
there.”
When Evvie stopped to get silverware and plates, Raven went out to the beautiful glassed-in area and set the food on the table. Each container held a portion of her sister’s preferred foods.
When Evvie returned, the smile that bloomed on her face was worth the effort. “Raven, I love you. You’re my favorite sister.”
She and Evvie had played that game when they were little, though they both knew they loved each sibling equally, if in different ways. She took out bottles of water, too, and they sat.
“I checked with the preparers. No additives or MSG in the shrimp and broccoli. There’s soy sauce. Want some cashew chicken? It’s not as healthy, but you could have a bit.”
They chowed down. The shrimp was plump and juicy, and the cashew chicken was spicy with soy sauce.
When Evvie finished, she sat back and pushed her curls from her face. “That was delicious. How long do you have for a break?”
“Dr. Parker said he’d be back at three.”
Evvie sipped from her bottle. “Dr. Parker.”
“Yeah, I found out his pedigree. It’s impressive.”
“Does he know about your pedigree?”
“No. I hope it stays that way until after opening night when Mamá and Papá attend. Like Lexy, I want to succeed artistically on my own merit.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The critics have their pre-opening reception the day before, so the jury will be in before I’m revealed as a princess.”
“Whatever makes you happy, honey. So tell me about Dr. Parker.”
“He can be maddening.” She highlighted for Evvie all the things the man had done since they’d been working together.
“How’s his fiancée’s father?”
“Still in the hospital.”
“It’s nice that he could be there for her, even though he had to leave you.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“And his ideas? Were they good?” Evvie asked.
“Not better than mine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Mine were better.”
“It’s his gallery.”
“It’s my art.”
“Did he bolt out on you for lunch again today?”
“No. He had a business meeting for something to do with the gallery—wait a second, are you making excuses for him?”
“No. I’m only pointing out what you can’t see.”
“I can’t?”
“Raven, your work is your life. Everything revolves around it. But his life isn’t your show, so he won’t be as dedicated to it as you are.”
She frowned.
“Tell me, is he impressed by your art?”
“Very much so. Every time he sees another piece, he seems startled by it.”
“Is he intent on getting the paintings staged and having a stellar opening?”
Raven nodded.
“Then that’s not the problem.”
“What is, do you think?”
“He’s very much like Papá. From what you told me, I thought so from the first. I didn’t want to point that out, but I’m sure it’s true.”
She studied her sister, so serene and happy, like Macy Marino. And for one brief second, Raven wanted to be like them, to live in a kinder, gentler world.
How pathetic.