Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69877 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69877 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
But the easel is new, as is the stool beside it. The man is definitely new, and I’m not enjoying the development.
I hadn’t really realized it until I’d spotted the unexpected company, but I’ve come to think of the roof as my space. The rest of the home still very much feels like Lillian’s. But up here, with the view of the stars and the Manhattan skyline? This is Miranda’s.
And now I have to share it. I don’t like that in the least.
“How can you draw at night if you can’t see what you’re doing?” I say, finally giving in to my curiosity.
“It’s not like I’m out here in a thunderstorm with a waxing crescent.” He nods slightly upward. “It’s clear. Waxing gibbous.”
I cross my arms, peevishly annoyed that he knows this. “You know your moon phases.”
“You would, too, if you liked to draw by moonlight.”
“Are you a professional artist?”
His attention refocuses on his canvas. “Yes, I make money from my painting.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Isn’t it?”
I consider this. “Yes, I suppose it was.”
I sense rather than see his eyes flick briefly my way, perhaps surprised at the admission, before returning to his work. “Not this work,” he says, nodding at the canvas in front of him. “I sell the stuff I create in my studio. This is just for me.”
“Can I see?” I ask curiously.
“Was ‘just for me’ not clear?”
“You’re not very friendly.”
Instead of acknowledging this, he lifts a glass off the stool and takes a sip of whatever’s in it as he studies me. “What’s your name, Lillian’s niece? It was probably in the email, but I forget.”
“Dr. Miranda Reed, PhD.”
He lets out a quick laugh and sets the glass back down. “You always introduce yourself like that?”
I frown. “Usually. I don’t want people to think I’m a medical doctor. If there’s an emergency, I won’t be much use.”
He simply shakes his head and goes back to his work.
I narrow my eyes. “You said you come up here every night the moonlight is good, but that isn’t true. There was a full moon in Pisces on August 30, and you were not up here.”
“A full moon in Pisces? Randy, what is it with you and extraneous information?”
“Randy?” I repeat.
“Well, I’m not calling you Dr. Miranda Reed, PhD,” he says with a rather spot-on impression of my “teacher voice,” which sometimes finds its way out of the classroom.
“I was not up here on the full moon in Pisces,” he says, “because I’ve been out of town the better part of a month.”
“Oh. Do you travel often?”
“Is that hope I hear in your voice?”
“Well.” I cross my arms. “We aren’t exactly hitting it off, are we? And if I’m up here every night, and you’re up here most nights…” I trail off, because my implication is clear.
“I see. I, too, enjoy my solitude. How about a schedule?”
“Sure!” I say, pleased and surprised by his agreeability.
He nods. “Great. I’ll come up here every night the weather and moon permit, and you… never.”
I make an exasperated noise, but instead of relenting, he shrugs. “Let’s not forget, Dr. Miranda Reed, PhD, I’ve lived here the better part of four years, and you long enough to cite only one full moon. In Pisces.”
With a resigned sigh, I return to the Buzzes to give them the last few drops from the watering can. “I see I took on the wrong home project.”
“What are you muttering about, Randy?”
“I thought I was meant to build a greenhouse downstairs,” I explain. “But I don’t think that should be my first home-improvement endeavor.”
“No?” His indifferent tone and the fact that he’s gone back to his work don’t invite conversation, but I decide to tell him anyway.
“I’m thinking I should build a fence. Taller than a fence. A barrier,” I say when he doesn’t acknowledge me.
“On the roof,” I say a little louder.
“Randy,” he says. Finally, something surpasses the boredom: exasperation. “Do you always talk this much?”
“No. Not at all, actually.” I pause. “Something we have in common. Only I’m much more likable about it.”
He lets out something that sounds like a laugh, and I’m pretty sure he tries to bite it back, but I hear it anyway. It pleases me.
At least it does until he goes back to drawing without another word.
“I’m going back downstairs,” I announce.
“So soon?”
I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see it.
“Hey. Randy?” he says just as I’m about to retreat inside.
I glance across the roof and see one more flash of the smile in the moonlight. “Same time tomorrow?”
My only response is to let the door slam a little too loudly behind me.
VIRGO SEASON
Today is all about forgiveness and amendments, dear Gemini. You’ll be itching to restore harmony, so take the first step by mending fences with someone you’ve had a recent conflict with, perhaps by undertaking a shared goal. Their role in your life is not what it first seemed…