The Art of Hiding

by Kathleen Grace

  “Kelly you have a roommate?” Stephen still bewildered, repeated himself.

  Kelly felt heat in her cheeks, “It’s a long story, Stephen.” She was uncomfortably aware of her undressed state and the disapproving stare of Peter. “Why don’t you go in the living room and have a drink. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Stephen moved grudgingly towards the other room, looking glumly at Kelly.

  She swallowed hard and lifted her chin meeting Peter’s gaze. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

  “I’m sorry, if I had known you had romantic plans tonight I would have made myself scarce,” Peter said as if he hadn’t heard her.

  “I didn’t have romantic plans.” Kelly was beet red.

  “We’re both adults. I’m sure we can work something out.” His tone was cool.

  “He wanted to surprise me… this was supposed to be moving day,” she said awkwardly.

  “It’s none of my business how you spend your time. But I think I’ll join Stephen in a drink,” he said curtly.

  Kelly dried her hair and dressed in a soft yellow fleece shirt and jeans. She applied a little mascara and soft lip color and looked at her reflection. She couldn’t get Peter’s accusing look out of her mind, had she misread his expression? She barely knew the man, why was she so concerned with what he thought of her?

  When she entered the living room, Stephen and Peter were standing by the fireplace, drinks in hand. “Don’t I get one of those?” Kelly tried a nervous smile.

  “Of course, darling.” Stephen moved over to the wet bar to oblige.

  “Peter has been filling me in on the details of your living arrangement.” Stephen’s voice had lost some of its suspicious tone.

  She took the scotch gratefully from Stephen, and peeked over the rim toward Peter. Stephen put his arm around her shoulders possessively and pulled her to him.

  “Stephen tells me he is in the restaurant business.” Peter’s expression was inscrutable as he addressed Kelly, taking in her pink cheeks.

  “Yes that’s correct,” she answered, embarrassed by Stephen’s tight grip.

  “I like it because I’ve been there so long I can pretty much choose my own hours,” Stephen said smugly.

  “Leaves a lot of spare time to get into mischief, I’d imagine.” Peter now appeared to be enjoying her unease.

  A look of momentary discomfort crossed Stephen’s face, and Kelly set her glass down abruptly.

  “Well, we’d better be going Stephen. I’m starving.” He seemed only too happy to leave. “Would you care to join us?” Kelly added politely, fingers crossed that Peter would not accept.

  “No thanks, you two kids go along and have fun, I’ve already eaten.”

  Once outside, the damp night air draped them like a veil. Stephen released Kelly and opened her side of the car, holding the door for her until she was settled. He walked around to the driver side, and slipped in behind the wheel.

  Kelly glanced over cautiously, Stephen’s face was stiff. “I really just forgot to tell you.”

  “You forgot to tell me that another man was living with you?”

  “I’ve had a lot on my mind lately,” she said pointedly. “And besides, I was hoping Mrs. Rhyne’s would find me another place to stay for the summer.”

  “Can you imagine how humiliating that was for me?”

  “I know, and I’m sorry, Stephen. But I didn’t expect you to sneak in the house tonight.”

  “I just can’t believe you wouldn’t tell me something like that. I walk in and find out you’re living with another man,” he continued, fuming.

  “It wasn’t a secret, I just hadn’t gotten around to it.”

  Stephen flushed. “I looked like an idiot. Here I am your boyfriend, and I am probably the only person in town who didn’t know you were living with another man.”

  She bridled. “He is not living with me the way you keep implying.”

  “Well he looked pretty bent out of shape at seeing me.”

  “I think he was just surprised to see us coming out of the bathroom, with me wearing only a towel,” she said dryly.

  “I don’t like the idea of you living with him, or any other guy. You’re supposed to be living with me. How can rooming with a stranger be better than just moving in with me?”

  She gave a huge sigh. “Because I don’t know if you and I are even going to work out, Stephen.”

  “How long is this going to go on with you not trusting me?” He pouted.

  “It’s only been a week,” she said in exasperation.

  Stephen’s face was hard in the light from the dashboard. “Well, what am I to you?”

  She squirmed in her seat. “I don’t know the official term for what we are right now.”

  “I thought you had agreed to give us another chance, Kelly?” He sounded dejected.

  Kelly grimaced. “Stephen, can’t we just go and have a nice dinner? I don’t want to get into a heavy discussion right now.”

  Stephen rubbed his hands over his face. “You know, Kelly, I’ve tried to be very patient about this whole thing, but my patience is running out.”

  “It’s been one week.” She ground out.

  “I just need to know where we stand. Where I stand.” He looked at her.

  She dropped her head forward and sighed. “I don’t know where we stand. Stephen I’m really confused.”

  “Great, I can’t believe this. We were supposed to be moving in together tonight as a sign of our commitment, Kelly; do you remember that? Do you even care?” Stephen sounded depressed.

  She reached over and touched his shoulder gently. “I do remember that, Stephen. But, we didn’t move in together, and things are definitely different right now. I just want to go and have a nice dinner and try to recapture why we were together in the first place.”

  “Fine.” Stephen sat back in his seat and started the engine, driving quickly down the gravel road toward town.

  Inside the house, a silhouette at the window silently watched the car drive out of sight.

  ****

  Kelly awoke the next morning with a splitting headache. Last night’s dinner had been anything but nice. Stephen had been sulky the entire evening, drinking too much and casting soulful glances at her until she’d insisted he take her home, shortly after eating. She couldn’t really blame him. He’d had quite a shock meeting Peter that way, and Kelly's own ambivalence towards their relationship hadn’t smoothed matters. She was relieved in a way to have let Stephen know how she felt, and yet uncertain as to where to go from here.

  She got out of bed, and showered and dressed. Her pale image in the mirror showed slight dark circles under her eyes. “Oh yes, you’re a raving beauty,” she said to her reflection.

  In the kitchen, Peter was seated at the table by the window. He looked freshly bathed and tanned, his hair still slightly damp, his green eyes curious. She was happy to see the awkwardness of last night was gone.

  “Hope you don’t mind. I helped myself to some eggs and coffee. I haven’t had a chance to do any real grocery shopping yet.”

  Kelly smiled and gestured to the fridge and pantry. “Help yourself. What’s mine is yours.”

  “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

  Kelly flushed and hid her face as she poured a large cup of coffee.

  “Anything you need from town? I’m going to actually do my grocery shopping this morning. I can’t mooch forever,” he smiled.

  “No, but actually I need to run into town myself, to drop off some overdue paintings to my impatient employer.”

  “Why don’t we ride together?”

  Kelly paused. “Well…” She met Peter’s curious look and bit her lip.

  “Afraid you’ll make Stephen angry?”

  She turned her back on Peter to escape his piercing gaze. “Of course not. I don’t need Stephen’s permission.”

  Peter took in the proud tilt of her chin. “I didn’t mean anything, Kelly,” he said softly.

  She l
ooked up into his apologetic eyes. “I know I’m just feeling a little defensive.” She sighed.

  “It’s hard to not feel sorry for the guy. He was pretty shocked to see me here last night.” Peter grinned.

  “I know, but he shouldn’t be sneaking into my house either way.”

  “True.”

  “And I hate having my private life blabbed all over town.”

  “Well, if it means anything, most people seem to be on your side.” He grimaced at her gasp.

  “Most people? You mean you were actually talking to people about this in town?” She looked mortified.

  “Unfortunately, yes.” He raised one eyebrow. “But you gotta love that they are on your side, right?”

  “I think I’ll just stay here today.”

  He looked disappointed. “Come on, Kelly, let’s go into town together and give them something new to gossip about.”

  She pursed her lips. “We probably ought to give them some new fodder.”

  “You shouldn’t worry about pleasing everyone else.” He paused then continued almost reluctantly. “If you still love him, give him another chance, if you think that is what you want. But do what makes you happy.”

  Kelly smiled warmly at Peter. “You make it sound so easy.”

  He snapped his fingers. “No problem, I offer free emotional advice to all my tenants.”

  “Oh, is that all I am too you? A tenant? After all we’ve been to each other?” She took a sip of coffee and smiled over the rim of her cup.

  Peter’s gaze held hers. “Are you coming with me?” he asked softly.

  Kelly flushed and looked down into her cup. “What the heck? I’m already the talk of the town. Why not?” She grinned.

  Peter looked pleased. “It will be fun. We can have lunch in town, and I’ll buy to pay you back for all the stuff I’ve slyly stolen out of the cupboards.”

  She laughed. “You’re not even remotely sly, you just confessed.” She suddenly felt very happy and very guilty. “Any chance I can get you to help me load up the paintings?”

  “But of course,” Peter said agreeably.

  With Peter’s help it took them about a half hour to carefully pack twenty paintings into the back of his Rover, and then they were on their way.

  The short drive into town was beautiful. The sky was a brilliant blue, without a single cloud. The ocean on their right was calm and friendly, quietly spilling up onto pristine beaches.

  “You know what I do for a living, what about you? Mrs. Rhyne say’s you’re a writer. What do you write?” Kelly asked settling back into her leather seat.

  “Uh oh, there is that tone again.”

  “What tone?”

  “The, oh, you’re-a-writer tone,” Peter smiled.

  Kelly laughed. “Sorry, now you know how I feel.”

  Peter’s mouth quirked with humor, but he remained silent.

  “Well, what do you write?” she prodded.

  “Oh, just non-fiction, nothing you’d win a Nobel Prize for certainly.” He sounded flippant.

  “My, oh my how very mysterious. Me thinks Mr. Barris doesn’t want to talk about it.” His manner amused her.

  “No, it’s just not really very interesting.”

  “Well, you’re saved from my prying, because here we are.”

  Kelly directed Peter over to the gallery where its director and owner, Fred Quimby, greeted them warmly on the sidewalk. Fred was a chubby, bald, tanned man in his late fifties. He had sparkling brown eyes and a constant smile. He was always decked in gold jewelry, especially rings. Golden rings adorned every finger of his hands. He was more often than not very jolly, and Kelly enjoyed how easy he was to work with.

  “Kelly, am I glad to see you. We’ve just gotten a phone call from The Blue Lion hotel. They want to decorate the new wing with your work. Isn’t that fantastic?” His enthusiasm was contagious.

  “Really?” Kelly said, pleased. “That’s great.”

  Fred’s eyes rested on Peter’s silent figure behind her. Kelly turned to Peter.

  “Fred, this is Peter Barris. Peter this is Fred Quimby, slave driver extraordinaire.”

  “Glad to meet you.” Peter grasped Fred’s large hand warmly.

  “Ah yes.” Fred smiled. “So you’re the famous author that has come to our humble town.”

  “Well, fame is subjective.” Laughed Peter.

  Kelly was beginning to think she was the only person in town who had never heard of Peter Barris.

  “Actually, I’ve read quite a few of your books, and I enjoyed them thoroughly,” Fred offered. “Are you here for business or pleasure?”

  “A little of both,” Peter said evasively.

  Fred nodded pleasantly, turning towards Kelly, “Now then, on to our business, my dear.” He rubbed his hands together eyeing the stacks of paintings Kelly had brought. After the Rover was unloaded, Fred led Kelly towards his small office at the back of the building.

  The gallery was a long building with stark white walls and very few windows. Track lighting shined brightly from the ceiling complimenting the paintings that seemed to cover every inch of wall space.

  “Do you mind waiting? It shouldn’t take long,” Kelly inquired of Peter.

  “Not in the least.” Smiled Peter, good-naturedly.

  When Kelly finally emerged from the office about a half-hour later, she found Peter in front of one of her newest paintings. It was a painting of an area known as Pirate’s Plunder. Once a supposed landing site for thieving pirates, it was now a favorite sunbathing cove. Her light hand had caught the rolling waves and white beaches sprinkled with tourists and brightly colored sun umbrellas.

  “This is really good,” Peter said sincerely.

  “Don’t sound so amazed.” Kelly laughed.

  “No, I mean it’s really good.” He repeated.

  “I get it, you like it and you can’t believe I painted it.” She laughed lifting her chin in mock insult.

  Peter met her gaze. “It’s a shame with this much talent you’re not more widely known.”

  “Well, fame is highly overrated.” Her dark lashes shielded her eyes. “Sometimes it causes more trouble than it’s worth.”

  “You sound as though you speak from experience,” Peter prompted.

  Kelly looked up at him, and smiled brightly, changing the subject. “Shall we go?”

  “Translation; mind your own business?” He grinned, holding the door as they headed out of the gallery.

  “You should talk Mr; I can’t tell you what I do for a living.” She shot back. “I’ll call you, Fred.” Kelly shouted to the back of the building, and Fred waved distractedly, a phone to his ear.

  They drove down the narrow street where the gallery was located, turning onto Main Street. Main Street was a grand name for what was really a modest little road. It was paved with cobblestones, and shops lined every square foot of it; antique stores, bookstores, gift shops, and restaurants. The usual tourist haunts. It was bustling with people, vacationers searching for that perfect souvenir.

  “Where shall we go?” Peter asked.

  Kelly squinted, her eyes, thinking. “Well… there is a great little Italian restaurant right down on the water called Mama Siragusa’s.”

  “Sounds perfect,” he agreed.

  “Oh yes and it’s reasonably priced too.”

  “Thank goodness. I’ve seen how you eat.” Peter teased.

  They arrived at Mama Siragusas’ just at lunchtime. It was filled with people seated on stools at the long counter running in front of the kitchen. The big brown leather booths that lined the dark paneled room, were full of happily munching people. Even though it was daytime, the restaurant had a dark, intimate atmosphere.

  A dark-haired woman, about fifty came bustling up to them.

  “Kelly, long time no see.” The woman grabbed Kelly in a warm hug, “Why you so long in coming?” Her voice had a thick Italian accent.

  “You know me, Loretta, I don’t get out much.”

 
The woman clucked her tongue, waving a finger at Kelly. “You not know how to have a good time. You’re old beyond you years.”

  “Gee thanks.” Kelly laughed.

  “And who is this?” Loretta asked taking in Peter’s tall lean form.

  “This is Peter Barris, he is my—” She stopped, unsure of how to finish.

  “Kelly has been kind enough to rent me a room for the summer,” Peter broke in, reaching out his hand.

  “Ah yes, you’re the one.” Loretta gave him a curious and admiring up and down look. “Watch out Stephen.” She cackled as she led them to a table by the window.

  “You’re so busy, how did we warrant such a great spot?” Kelly laughed.

  Loretta clucked again and waved towards the table impatiently. “Sit down. Sit down, before you cause a ruckus.”

  They sat down at the small round table covered in a red and white checked cloth, scraping their chairs across the sawdust-sprinkled floor. Loretta handed out the menus and hurried away.

  “Well, I see our reputation precedes us,” Kelly murmured.

  He nodded. “News travels fast in a small town.”

  “How come it’s never good news though?” Kelly grimaced.

  Peter laughed, and Loretta came over and plunked a liter of Chianti on the table.

  “It’s on the house.” Loretta beamed and left.

  “So, is Stephen the controlling type?” Peter asked casually.

  “Excuse me?” She raised her eyebrows. Kelly wasn’t sure she really wanted to talk about Stephen. “That’s a pretty nosey question, Mr. Barris.”

  “I’m curious about who I live with.” Peter persisted as he poured them each a glass of the dark wine.

  She hesitated. It wasn’t completely unreasonable to want to know something about the person you room with, especially since it had affected him somewhat. But she couldn’t help but remember how little he had been willing to talk about himself in the car.

  “Stephen is sometimes controlling, but we all like things our own way, don’t we?”

  “I know I do.” He smirked.

  “Well, Stephen’s no different. He knows what he wants in life, and I actually admire how much he knows how to enjoy himself. I tend to be a little stuffy.” She sipped her glass.

  Peter gazed at her pretty features, and soft mouth, and said quietly, “Actually, I find you quite interesting, anything but stuffy.”