Not a Flower - A Novel

Chapter 5

Grace couldn't find her car. When she asked Mr. Lowery, he insisted on having her driven into town by the Roussiard's personal chauffeur instead.

Seeing the steel in the older man's eyes, she meekly agreed but gave profuse thanks. Once comfortably ensconced in the cool climate controlled interior of a sleek black limousine, she was glad Mr. Lowery had insisted. The chauffeur was a distinguished older woman who told Grace to call her Beth.

Grace stared out the window, watching the scenery pass by, lost in her thoughts until Beth rapped lightly on the tinted windows. They had arrived.

Grace grabbed her purse and stepped out into the bright sunlight as Beth held the door opened for her. Although it was still early, not even noon yet, there were already hordes of people moving about and shopping. Wales wasn't London but it was filled with excited tourists shopping.

"I'll wait for you here, Ms. Madison." Beth told her cheerfully. With her neat little black hat smartly perched on top of silvered blond hair, the pretty older woman handed her a small card. "Here's my mobile in case you get lost. Feel free to call for help. No shame in asking for help sometimes."

Grace grinned. "Thanks Beth. This is worth its weight in gold. I'm terrible finding my way around new places."

With her hand shading her eyes, Grace made her way to the open market where the most delicious smells were drifting from. It was gorgeous and uncharacteristically warm outside.

She unzipped her sweatshirt and slung her purse over one shoulder. As she walked by a cafe selling fragrant scones and tea, Grace made a note to buy some for Beth on her way back. She felt bad that Beth was stuck waiting for her all morning and vowed to hurry. An hour at the most.

Passing by a stand hawking some cute, teenager-type silver charms and earrings, Grace stopped in front of a simple stand where a slender man with beautiful dark eyes was sketching portraits for twenty-five dollars a piece. His current subject was a smiling couple, gladly holding their pose since it meant leaning into each other.

The artist had captured the couple's happiness. On the creamy white surface of paper, amazingly likenesses of the rosy cheeked young woman and the good-natured charm of the young man were captured for all eternity.

Smiling at the skill of the artist and feeling a bit wistful at how comfortable the woman seemed with her lover's arm wrapped around her waist, Grace wondered if she would ever be able to feel that magical and wonderful sense of belonging.

Did all people feel that loneliness, that nagging consciousness that something important was missing from their lives?

"Miss. Are you well?"

The artist had finished with his drawing already. His drawling voice held a thick Irish brogue that was as charming as it was strong. The couple was walking away hand-in-hand, heads bent together as they laughed and examined the masterfully executed portrait of themselves. Wiping his hands with a piece of clean rag, the artist was carefully studying her.

Feeling like an idiot, Grace felt her face turn a dull red. "Hi—I was just daydreaming a bit. I'm fine."

He didn't seem convinced. Opening a small white cooler, he pulled out an icy cold can of cola. "Here, drink this. You seemed a bit flushed."

Grace had to admit the soda looked tempting but she wasn't in the habit of accepting things from strangers.

"Thank you, but I'm fine." She shook her head and felt like a little kid.

The artist merely nodded and put the can back into the cooler. Then crossing his arms, he tilted his head.

"Would you like to have your portrait drawn? It would make a nice gift for your boyfriend."