Chapter 49
"Good morning, love," Kyle beamed beside me, his face far too cheerful for this ungodly hour. I forced a smile and pulled the blanket higher over our shoulders, shielding myself from both the morning light and his unbearable optimism.
"Morning, Kyle."
Just morning. Not good morning. It had not been a good morning nor day since the day I walked away from Millicent and Vincent.
"I am rather surprised you are still here," I said, attempting to maintain the illusion of normalcy. "Typically, I wake to find your side of the bed empty."
Kyle stretched lazily, rubbing a hand through his disheveled hair. "Well, three days ago, ya said that Mr. Inns got ya another portrait job today. Figured I'd see ya off before I head into the woods."
Ah. The portrait.
At once, my spirits lifted, sweeping aside my stormy disposition as though it were nothing more than an inconvenient piece of dust. Two whole gold coins for a single sitting! Two! Why, this was practically highway robbery, except I was the one getting robbed, as I was certain Jack would sell it for thrice that amount. Still, it mattered not, two gold coins were a fortune in my world.
I practically leapt out of bed, limping toward the outhouse with newfound purpose.
Finally, I stood before the portrait shop, anticipation thrumming through me. Kyle waved me off, disappearing into the streets.
I stepped inside, and Jack greeted me with such excessive enthusiasm that it felt less like a commission and more like an ambush.
Before I could so much as blink, he seized my hand and whisked me toward the small tea table, practically forcing me into a chair. He sat across from me with a giddy expression that immediately set me on edge.
"Mrs. Woodstone, thank you ever so much for accepting this request!"
He delved into an unceasing flow of pleasantries, to which I replied with the effortless grace of habit, though not a single word settled in my mind. My attention lay elsewhere, fixed, to be precise, upon the two invisible gold coins that had seemingly replaced his eyes. From my good eye, I could see them glisten, radiant as the fabled riches of a fallen empire, taunting me with their silent promise.
Finally, he reached the part I actually cared about.
"The client has requested a very specific pose. They seek a portrait of a beautiful woman in tears. She must embody sorrow, her face a masterpiece of heartbreak, with tears sliding down her cheeks in elegant despair. She has to look utterly broken," he announced, beaming as if he had just described a field of blooming sunflowers.
What in the devil?
Who in their right mind commissions something like this? Oh, welcome to my humble abode, dear guests! And here, above the fireplace, we have a delightful portrait of a woman absolutely crumbling under the weight of grief. Does it not bring such warmth to the home?
I struggled to remove the absurd mental image from my head. This was preposterous.
Jack, oblivious to my growing horror, continued, "Forgive me, Mrs. Woodstone, but the first time I saw you at the newspaper stand, you were crying, and you took my breath away. The sorrow in your expression was simply divine. So, when this request came in, I knew this role was made for you!"
My mouth snapped shut. If I did not close it, a stream of curses was sure to follow.
Sir, I am not some tragic fountain of endless tears!
And to cry and sit still for hours? This was madness! I could already see my two gold coins slipping away, fluttering into the abyss of lost opportunity.
With a tight breath, I gripped my cane and made to rise. "I apologize, but I do not believe I can fulfill such a request. It is simply impossible."
Jack panicked. "Three gold coins!" he cried, slamming his hands upon the table so suddenly that I nearly leapt out of my skin.
I hesitated.
"Four!" he yelped before I could utter a single word.
I paused.
Four. Four gold coins.
Well, silver coins, it has been an absolute pleasure, but I shall be moving on to grander things now.
"Deal!" I beamed, settling back into my seat.
Cry for hours until the portrait is finished? Very well.