"How's the newest painting coming along?" I ask.
Summer remains silent for a few seconds, as if considering my words. "It's coming along okay, but if I'm honest, I'm having more fun being a docent at the gallery than painting."
That's news to me. "Really?"
Summer nods. "Yeah. Maybe it's all the years I've spent in Rome being a docent, but I seem to like it more to tell others about paintings of great artists rather than spending days alone in my studio with just my brush and a canvas, trying to create something great, then hoping I'll find a vendor. Let's face it. I'll never be Picasso. Or Monet."
"No, you're Summer Bennett. And personally, I'd buy your stuff over that Picasso guy's anytime. His paintings make no sense. Some even freak me out."
"That's because you're not an art appreciator, Blake."
"True, you and Pippa got the creative genes and interest."
When Summer turned twelve, she started to show interest in all things art, begging everyone to take her to galleries and what-not. I was often her companion. It had been so boring I'd wanted to poke my eyes out, but I went for my sister. She drank up every word of the docents while I shut out their voice, especially when it came to modern art, which in my opinion looked as if Silas had gotten his hands on a black marker and went wild on a white canvas. Everyone else finds deeper meaning in those drawings. To me, a line is a line is a line. That's all there was to it.
"So, how's the gallery, then?"
"Oh, we just received the most wonderful collection by Van Gogh. We finished putting it up Friday. Tickets for it are already sold out for the entire next week."
I take a guess. "Is this the guy who cut off his ear and then blew his own brains out?"
Summer narrows her eyes. "He had some issues, but he was also a genius. He used techniques, which...I see you're phasing out already."
"What? No, no, no, I'm listening." Truth be told, I'm hearing her, but not really listening. My brain is in the habit of wandering off at the first mention of words such as "technique". Almost inadvertently, I focus on Clara, suddenly wishing I could fast forward the day, so I can be alone with her.
"Let's talk about Clara instead." Yeah, that took no time at all. In all honesty, I haven't helped my case by eye-fucking Clara from across the room. "By the way you're looking at her, I'm gonna go out on a limb and say things are heating up? Do you need tips? She likes tacos, romantic comedies, and unusual cocktails."
Summer said all this at once, and she is now taking a much-needed breath. I take advantage of the split second of silence to turn the conversation back to her. I'm rescued by Daniel, who joins us, sitting on Summer's other side.
"This is a madhouse, and I never thought I'd say that about a three-year-old's party. What are you two talking about?"
"Clara," Summer informs him. "Our brother's been giving her hot looks for years now. I'm trying to gauge how far past looks they've gotten since she's his neighbor."
"Blake, come on. Keep your hands off her. She's sweet. Deserves better than your sorry ass."
Well, well. I hadn't anticipated this. Daniel turning against me-the traitor. He's my twin. There's an unwritten rule that he must always have my back.
"You're not helping," Summer admonishes him.
"She's a family friend. Don't make things awkward for her. Remember Caroline?"
My jaw ticks with annoyance. "Don't judge me based on your mistakes."
The two of us met Caroline during our orientation week in college. We had in common that we were all from San Francisco. One thing led to another, and we became fast friends. During holidays, she came by our house a few times, and she quickly became a family friend. She was particularly close to Pippa. Then she and Daniel started dating during our senior year. That wouldn't have been bad, per se, but things didn't work out. Afterward, she slowly pulled away from the family. She still attends weddings and major events, but isn't as close as she used to be. What a pity, especially because I suspect Daniel still has feelings for Caroline. They aren't unrequited, but it's none of my business.
"Fair enough," Daniel says.
"What are you all talking about?" Logan asks, joining us. He walks to the opposite side of the table, searching in the baby bag sitting on a chair.
"Just warning Blake off from Clara," Daniel says nonchalantly.
Logan snaps his head up. "You‘re hazing him? But you're always on his side. I want a front row seat at the show." Instead of taking whatever he needs from the bag, he drops into one of the seats. Lovely. Now I'm being cornered by two of my brothers.