Free Contessa by Lori L. Otto Page A

you home. It ’ s a school night. ”
    “ Yeah, we ’ re ready. I was just showing him the mural. ” I hand her the keys on our way out.
    “ He painted that for Livvy ’ s mother, ” she says.
    “ She told me. It ’ s pretty incredible. ”
    “ It was one of the last pieces he did. Definitely our favorite. Right, Liv? ”
    “ Definitely. ” It was our favorite, but Mom had protested when the painting showed up in the gallery. She didn ’ t want to look at it every day. In the end, though, Mom agreed that there was no better place for it than in his own gallery. As a compromise, Dad had some people come in to create partitions so it wasn ’ t something she ’ d have to see every time she walked across the room. Other paintings now hang in front of it, obstructing the view.
    I know Dad didn ’ t want her looking at the painting every day, either. I ’ d often wondered if he could sense the longing, the sadness that was depicted so brilliantly in that mural. After our discussion the other day, I decide he probably can ’ t detect it, but instead just wanted to do what needed to be done to make my mother comfortable in her space. He always went out of his way to make sure she was happy and taken care of. I do like that about him. I do hope I find someone like that someday.
    It ’ s nice that Jon ’ s here to make sure I make it home okay, although there ’ s never been any danger of me not making it home safely. I know it ’ s just an excuse for us to see one another, even if it is for a very brief period of time.
    After locking up the Art Room and telling Granna goodbye, Jon and I walk at an intentionally slow pace, milking the time for all its worth. He takes the book out of my hand, and then replaces it with his own hand.
    “ So Dad knows you ’ re here? ”
    “ Yeah. He said he liked that I was looking out for you. He said you get annoyed when he does it. ”
    “ I do. He used to walk up here and walk with me. I ’ m fifteen, you know? I can walk two blocks by myself. ”
    “ But Livvy. You ’ re fifteen . ” He repeats my rationalization in a serious tone. “ And the daughter of a very well-known, very wealthy man in the city. ”
    “ So? ”
    “ So, you ’ d be an easy target if someone was desperate, or had a bone to pick with your Dad. ”
    “ No one has a bone to pick with him. Everyone loves him. ”
    “ True. ”
    “ Plus, my brother ’ s a much easier target. That would hurt my dad more, anyway. ”
    “ Why do you say that? ” he asks curiously.
    “ Only son. Only blood descendent. Heir to the throne. That kind of thing. ”
    “ I don ’ t think your dad cares about that. That doesn ’ t make you any less his child. ”
    I shrug my shoulders. He squeezes my hand gently and continues. “ I think sometimes you ’ re naïve, Livvy. And very often your mind is not on your surroundings. I remember I used to have conversations with you, sitting at the same work bench, and you had no idea I was talking to you. ” He raises his eyebrows, seeing my surprise. “ That ’ s exactly my point. ”
    “ Nuh-uh, ” I argue with him.
    “ I swear, Livvy! I was offended at first; I thought your were bored by my garrulous chatter– ”
    “ Garrulous? ”
    “ It ’ s an SAT word. You like that? ” he says with a smile and a little bit of arrogance. “ I assumed you thought my conversation was trivial, but I realized that ’ s just when you ’ re at your most inspired. So I eventually stopped talking and I just let you create.
    “ It ’ s fascinating, how you work. How your mind works. But because of that, I don ’ t think you ’ re always aware of what ’ s going on around you. ”
    “ Sure I am, ” I tell him as I wrestle my hand away from his. “ For instance, I know my dad will be able to see us in five more paces. ” I smile pertly at him, and he nods in understanding.
    “ Touché, Livvy. ” He hands me back the book as we cross the street. I pull it into my chest,