The Ladies of the Secret Circus by Constance Sayers (ebook reader with internet browser TXT) 📗

same names. She guessed people did that kind of thing. Quickly, Lara turned off the machine and removed her goggles and respirator to find her mother standing in the hallway holding a painting under one arm and garment bag under the other.

“What’s that?” Lara folded her arms. As she moved, her jeans, T-shirt, and Chuck Taylors let loose a fine sprinkle of sawdust.

Audrey held both out. “Your dress for the gala and Cecile’s painting.” She looked around the room and couldn’t hide her horror. “You should really hire someone to do this.”

Lara wasn’t going to admit she’d had the same thought. Shooing her mother away with a glove, Lara turned to pet the dogs. “I’m learning a lot from doing it myself.”

“Learning? At least get Caren to help you learn.” Her voice trailed down the hall and back again.

“She’s got her own sawdust pile at the coffeehouse.”

“Oh yes, I heard she’s jumped into small-business ownership, too.” Audrey had been against Lara purchasing both this house and the radio station, instead wanting her to move home permanently. Audrey turned the frame around to reveal the painting of Cecile Cabot, standing atop a white steed that circled the Parisian circus. “I thought it would look perfect in your dining room.”

“But you love that painting.” Lara’s eye went immediately to the choker around Cecile’s neck. While it was a very generous gift from her mother, she actually didn’t care for the painting, fearing it would always remind her of that day.

“I do love it,” said Audrey, holding it up to the light.

Lara stepped carefully to avoid the sawdust and leaned on the doorway to the dining room, ushering the dogs away from the dust.

Audrey handed Lara the garment bag and began walking around the room with the painting, placing it on each wall, looking for the desired effect.

Lara sighed. “You’re bestowing a pity painting on me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Audrey was a slight woman, shorter and finer-boned than Lara with a blond bob that never varied in length, as though it was tended at night while she slept. Audrey had obviously come from the stable because she was walking around the room in a pair of beige riding pants and tall field boots that curved at the knee. “I’m doing some redecorating at the farm. You’ve gotten me in the mood to change things up a bit, so I thought it made sense for you to have it.” She put her hands on her hips. “I’m empty-nesting.”

Lara raised her eyebrow in doubt.

Her mother sighed, defeated. She pointed to the frame. “This painting—this woman—this is your legacy. Who we are. Anyway, I’m passing it down to you. There are some heirlooms that are yours. They’re more sentimental than anything, but they need to be passed to the next generation.”

“Oh please, Mother,” said Lara. “This isn’t about heirlooms. You’re decorating. You’ve been itching to decorate this house since I bought it.”

“A bit.” Audrey gave her a sheepish smile.

“The frame is too much, though,” said Lara, protesting.

“It does have a Versailles-meets-Vegas feel to it, doesn’t it? Take it to Gaston Boucher and change it. Make sure he keeps it for you, though, it’s probably worth more than the painting.” Audrey leaned it against the wall.

Gaston Boucher, owner of the most successful art gallery and framing shop in Kerrigan Falls, was a name that was peppered in all of Audrey’s recent conversations. Lara suspected they’d begun dating.

“She was brave. And you are, too.” She turned Lara’s chin with her hand and gazed into her eyes. “We owe this woman a great deal,” said Audrey. “She needs to be with you now. She’s been in my hallway long enough.”

Crouching down to get a better look at the painting, Lara lifted the frame from the floor. The colors looked different in this room than they had in the dimly lit hall at Cabot Farms. “If I’m brave, Mother, I learned it from you. Thank you.” Running her hands over the frame, Lara thought how her mother had held her together all these months. While she often rolled her eyes at Audrey’s fussing, her mother had created a safe world for her when everything had fallen to pieces. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

Audrey blushed and tugged at her shirt, taking deep breaths like she was about to cry. “Oh, come on now.” Changing the subject, Audrey began unzipping the bag that held what Lara assumed to be a gown.

“You said this is for the gala, right?” As her mother held the hanger, Lara slid the garment bag down, allowing a wash of midnight-blue chiffon to reveal itself. With a strapless bodice, the dress was like something out of vintage Barbie. Cascading down from the fitted waist was a full skirt with multiple tulle layers arranged like ombré waterfalls in different lengths and saturations of peacock. “You must have spent a fortune on this.”

“I did,” said Audrey. “Don’t get dust on it. I suppose you’ll want to alter it?”

Lara smiled. “No. It’s perfect. Thank you.”

Audrey ignored her and turned, the mother-daughter moment broken. “And that painting will look great with the rug I just bought you. Eggplant and gold tones, ornate. Perfect for this room. You also need wooden shutters.” Audrey scanned the room. “And a silver tea set.”

Oddjob came and sat at Lara’s feet. She could feel the dog lean slowly into her.

“You can also take him anytime you want. He misses you.”

As if to answer, Oddjob let out a sigh and stretched out on the floor in front of Lara like the Sphinx. Oddjob was hers, while Miss Moneypenny was her mother’s dog. Hugo, the ringleader, a tiny Welsh terrier, was nowhere to be found today.

Audrey retrieved the sunglasses that hung on the neck of her T-shirt and headed toward the door. Oddjob and Moneypenny scrambled up, their paws and claws scraping against the floor in a mad rush not to be left behind by the woman who fed them.

“I’ll come here around six tomorrow to