“Claire must have invited him,” I replied, my voice low. “Trust her to try to ruin your goodbye party.”
Drake turned and met my eyes. “As long as he doesn’t try to take a poke at me in revenge, forget him. He’s history. In three days, we’ll be gone and he’s gone as well.”
I forced a smile and took in a deep breath. I saw Sefton carrying a big flat package that looked like a large canvas wrapped in brown paper. Sefton carried it inside and handed it to Claire, but not before he glanced around the room and caught my eye. He smiled when he saw me, and dipped his head slightly.
Drake and I stayed where we were and I watched as Sefton and Claire discussed the painting. Claire took the canvas over to the dining room table and laid it flat then removed the brown paper wrapping.
“Oh, look,” she said out loud. She and Sefton held up the painting together. The canvas was about five feet wide by four feet tall. It was of the savannah, similar to where we were on the art safari.
It was also a painting of me.
I stood in the right side of the painting, my face in profile, my hair wild as if blown by the wind, one hand up to keep the hair tucked behind my ear, my shoulders bare, my pale skin sunburnt. With the other hand, I was shading my eyes from the sun and staring out into the distance.
“It’s lovely,” Claire said. She turned to Drake and me, her face expectant. “Isn’t it lovely? Drake, Kate, come over and see what I commissioned from Sefton. It’s for you, Drake, as a going away present.”
Drake squeezed my hand a
nd led us over to the dining room table where Sefton and Claire stood. Several students and guests joined us and we stood and examined the painting.
It was very good, all shades of yellow, the bright sunlight glinting off my chestnut hair, tall stands of dried yellow grass surrounding me, almost reaching my elbows. Although my face was shaded, it was clearly me. He’d caught my likeness very well.
Had he taken a photo of me without my knowledge?
“It’s very good,” Drake said and stepped closer. “Thank you Claire.” He turned to Sefton. “Thank you to the artist as well. I was sad I didn’t get to go on the safari with Kate so this will make up for it.”
To my surprise, he extended his hand. In response, Sefton stepped back and held his hands up as if in surrender. Then he smiled and held out his hand and they shook.
“Wasn’t sure what you were going to do there, for a moment,” he said in a joking tone. “Given our history…”
“The past is the past,” Drake replied.
“Good,” Sefton said. “I hope you both can enjoy the work. I enjoyed painting it.”
Sefton turned to me and smiled. “I hope you keep up with your art when you go back to Manhattan. It would be a real shame if you let it drop.”
I shook my head, my throat dry. “I won’t let it drop,” I said and cleared my throat. “If anything, I’m even more determined to keep painting. Maybe take a studio class or two.”
Sefton nodded, his blue eyes meeting mine.
Then, Drake pulled me away. “Thanks once again,” he said and stepped back. “Let’s get a fresh drink for you,” he said and I was glad that he made the excuse to leave. I didn’t know what else to say, and didn’t want to have to make polite conversation with Claire and Sefton.
“That was smooth of you,” I whispered when we were far enough away to be out of earshot. “Thank you for being so diplomatic.”
I heard Drake chuckling beside me. “He’s lucky I didn’t clock him one,” he said and pulled me against him possessively. “I imagine he was wishing he had you there in person so he could use you as a model. Probably naked…”
I grinned up at him. “You men and your minds always go to the same place.”
“They do,” he said and smiled. “That’s why there’s still a human species in existence. Did you know about this?” he asked softly, his voice light.
“No,” I said firmly. “He must have taken a photo of me when I didn’t realize it.” I thought back to the safari. Sefton did have a big camera and was snapping photos during the entire time we were there. “He had a camera along with him so I guess he used that for the painting.”
“It’s really very good,” Drake said. “I hate to admit it, but he’s talented.”
“He is,” I said and poked Drake in the ribs, “but he’s a jackass.”
“That’s true, but I have to tell you, I’d like to smear my face with war paint and dance around a bonfire with this burning on top.”
“Drake!” I said and laughed. He pulled me closer and kissed me suddenly.