Page 52 of Worth Every Penny
“Didn’t you want any of Dad’s art collection?” Kate asks him.
“Oh, Mum did ask me—”
“When? When did she ask you?” Her voice wavers, like she’s starting to panic.
Jack scratches his head. “Maybe two weeks ago? I thought about it, but I’m redecorating and I’d only have to store them.” Jack narrows his eyes at Kate, only now noticing the energy of the moment he’s intruded upon. His eyes flick to his mother and back to Kate, his voice lower when he says, “Didn’t she mention it to you?”
This conversation is increasingly feeling like one I shouldn’t be witnessing, but I can’t take my gaze off Kate.
She shakes her head and mutters under her breath before focusing on her mother. “What about my art?”
“Your art? What art?” Mrs. Lansen’s confused gaze slides to the ceiling, then snaps back. “Do you mean that portrait you did of your father before he died?” A spurt of laughter pops out. “I don’t think you could call that art, sweetheart. It’s in your father’s study, along with all your other doodles. I was going to let you see if there was anything you wanted to keep, otherwise, I’ll send it to the skip on Monday.”
Kate’s shoulders tighten; the motion is slight and you wouldn’t notice unless you were really paying attention. I shouldn’t fucking notice, but I do.
“Right.” Kate draws out the word, as if she’s struggling to process her mother’s callous comments. “You’re going to throw it all away?”
Mrs. Lansen laughs. “Oh Kate, we can’t keep everything. The place is cluttered enough as it is. I have to prioritise to keep things under control here. If I kept every scrap of paper, I’d be swamped.”
“Yeah. Okay,” Kate mutters, but there’s a flash of hurt in her eyes so visceral that I feel it like a slash across my chest.
“Wonderful,” Mrs. Lansen says. “Let’s have a drink. Gin and tonics on the terrace?”
There are mumbles of agreement as we traipse towards the back of the house, but Kate isn’t moving.
“I’ll be there in a minute,” she says, lifting her bag and turning towards the stairs. “I want to unpack.”
I stare as Kate mounts the steps. The staircase turns halfway up, and she disappears out of sight.
Curtis and Mrs. Lansen are already heading out towards the pool. She’s leaning into him, her temple resting on his shoulder, his arm around her waist. The woman is so self-involved she probably didn’t notice Kate’s distress.
Fuck this. I can’t wait here and ignore it.
I’m about to follow Kate when a hand lands on my shoulder. “She’s touchy about Dad’s stuff,” Jack tells me. “Give her a moment. She’ll be all right later, and if she’s not, I’ll talk to her. She always finds it tough to be here. You know, ever since Dad died.” A melancholy expression flits across Jack’s face, his gaze drifting before he refocuses on me. “Come and have a swim. The water’s perfect.”
“We only just got here. I’m not going to let Kate stew up there. I’ll bring her back down.”
Jack’s hand slides slowly off my shoulder and he raises an eyebrow, causing my heart to double-skip. Is he reading something into my concern? But the expression disappears, replaced with something altogether more relaxed and my rib cage drops two inches.
“Give it a go,” he says. “I’ll see you outside.”
Jack departs, and I bolt up the stairs after Kate. She must hear me, but she doesn’t turn. She’s halfway to her bedroom when I grab her hand and pull her back towards me.
She snatches her fingers out of my grip. “What do you want?”
I step back. “I know you’re upset.”
She eyes me cautiously. I expect some snarky comment about my powers of observation, but she says simply, “I’m fine.”
I don’t buy it for a second. “Okay. Come back downstairs then.”
Her throat bobs, and she blinks for an extended moment.Shit. She looks like she’s about to dissolve. I want to offer comfort, but I hold back, unsure if touching her is a good idea.
“Is it the art?” I say quickly. “Your Dad’s stuff?”
A little broken sound cracks from her lips as she drops her bag to the floor and covers rheumy eyes with her hand. “Can you not look at me?”
“I don’t give a shit if you’re going to cry.”