At least she was trying instead of shooting out racial slurs from obvious disapproval some time ago.
Amber nodded. “I was born in New York. I was adopted… my parents died when I was young.”
“Ah, I see.” Mrs. Livingston placed the bowl of fresh assorted fruits in front of Amber. “Dig in,” she smiled. “Dinner will be ready in a few hours.”
The hours went by with frivolous chatter. Mrs. Livingston seemed to be keeping an open mind about her, which was making it much easier for conversation.
Mr. Livingston had a hearty laugh. He liked to drink his brandy and relax by the window, but his real passion was food. He kept asking his wife when it would be ready, and as always she would reply that it would be done when it was done. One could tell after being under the roof only a few hours that the Livingston’s had been married for many long years. They exuded that comfortable gentle sensation towards one another, yet neither caved in to the other’s whim. They were like two happy old crows surrounded by an insurmountable amount of wealth. Yet, Mrs. Livingston seemed to believe that servants were for the weak and unable. She refused to let anyone do anything for her, which was rather surprising to Amber.
Amber learned a lot those few hours she sat there. Charles’s parents weren’t the typical rich family. They enjoyed simple things amongst the luxury. And honestly it was refreshing.
She listened as Mrs. Livingston told her about the man she was going to marry. Pride beamed from her despite the fact that she didn’t like to show it. She was the kind of woman to keep her emotions inside. But within her was a love so strong.
“You know,” Mrs. Livingston said as the darkness began to settle in the sky. The sun was on the brink of the horizon, casting orange glows upon everything. “Charles has always been my favorite, but I’ve never wanted to tell him this. I wanted him to be stronger than his sister.” She grew silent as one does in reflection of the past. It seemed to wrap around her, consuming her thoughts for what seemed an eternity.
Amber merely looked at her from the reclining beach chair she sat in. A strawberry daiquiri in one hand and an itch forming in her other, she turned to the water. How she wanted to paint it so badly. She drowned in the feeling as it carried her soul across those perfect waters.
When Mrs. Livingston stirred, she shielded her eyes from the glow. “This is why I love it here. There is no other beauty on the world than watching the sun disappear over the waters, unobstructed by nothing.” She took another sip of her drink before turning to Amber. “I usually open up after a few drinks,” she admitted with a soft giggle. “But when I’m sober I want you to know that I don’t dislike you. I’m just a hard woman. I’ve always had to be. But honestly I wasn’t happy with Charles’ marriage decision. Seeing how nice of a girl you are now, I suppose I can’t judge much past that.”
Whether or not she would be this open again, Amber wasn’t sure. But it put her heart at ease to know that she wasn’t hated by her mother-in-law.
Mrs. Livingston got up for a second. “I have something I’d like for you to do,” she smiled. “I’ll be right back.”
Before waiting for her to acknowledge, she was gone. Seconds later she came back carrying a large fold up easel, a pouch of tools, paint, and a canvas. It was all wrapped neatly in a bundle.
She smiled before setting it down in front of a surprised Amber. “I’ve had this for years but I haven’t the talent. Perhaps you can make something good of it. These are expensive brushes, so please treat them well. All I ask in return is for you to paint the lunar eclipse tonight over the waters. I heard it’s supposed to be beautiful. Other than that, it’s yours.”
Amber gasped. “Really,” she touched the canvas softly with her fingertips. Then looking up she got up and hugged her future mother-in-law. “Thank you,” she said. “You don’t know how much I’ve been itching to paint since I’ve been here.”
“You’re welcome, my dear,” was all that she said before going in to fetch dinner.
Chapter15
When Charles came home that night, Amber was in high spirits. She had lit candles everywhere around the room. She was dressed in a long white silk night gown, had her hair down in curls, and smelled of perfume. She was ready to embrace their future. Tonight was the night and she knew it would be okay.
As he walked in the room with a bouquet of red roses, they shared a look of pure passion. She saw the flowers and walked up to him, taking them in her tiny hands and smelling their elegant petals.
“I thought you’d like these,” he said, taking her in his large embrace as her arms went around his neck. “A rose for my rose,” he said.