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[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
portraits. Still, Leo had been unable to part with his Bronica
EC-TL, the last camera he had used. It was solid, and it yielded
reliable portraits.
Musty air wafted from above as she climbed the stairs. When
she was fourteen she had asked to move her bedroom into the
attic so she could have more space and privacy, but the unfinished
floors and walls had been a deal breaker for her mother. Leo had
since added insulation to keep her heating and cooling bills in
check, and put down plywood sheets to the edges of the sloping
walls. It needed a lot more work to be livable, but at least it was
usable for storage.
Two boxes sat near the top of the steps, some of her father s
files she no longer needed but couldn t bring herself to discard.
Bit by bit, odds and ends from the studio that had belonged to
him had found their way into the attic outdated backdrops, a
female mannequin, broken tripods, lights and reflector umbrellas,
appointment books& even the worn out leather satchel he had
carried for almost thirty years. It wasn t that she ever thought
she would use these things. She just didn t want to be the one to
throw them away.
Get over it, Leo, she said, her voice rebounding off the bare
walls and floor. She had promised Claudia a tour of the attic, so
it was time to deal with this mess. Now that she had crossed the
threshold of sentimentality by selling the cameras, it shouldn t be
so hard to get rid of the other items.
The Christmas decorations were another matter entirely.
Leo usually put up a tree for her customers, but she felt
claustrophobic when holiday knick-knacks filled her house.
She had tried to talk her mother into taking those with her to
Modesto, but her mother hadn t wanted to impose more than
50
necessary on her sister. At least she had taken all of her bedroom
and dining room furniture, which had paved the way for Leo to
move everything but her kitchen to the second floor. She liked
having a den to herself now, though it didn t solve the problem
of her tiny bedroom.
Madeline appeared through the opening and immediately set
about exploring the new environs.
How about it, Madeline? You want me to move your bed
up here?
The plywood wobbled under her feet as she walked the length
of the room and peered out a small window onto the courtyard
behind the kitchen. Her mother had grown herbs and spices back
there, but Leo had let them go to weeds. She had no time to tend
a garden, and besides, she couldn t tell one plant from another
unless it was labeled in a package at the grocery store.
The other end of the long room was the main reason she had
wanted to claim this space for her own years ago, and why she still
toyed with the idea of finishing the room. From the third story
of the turret she could see the ocean. Not only that, the attic was
filled with natural light all afternoon, something she missed in
her own bedroom because her small window faced south.
One of these days she would remodel the attic in grand
style hardwood floors, ceiling planks and a staircase from the
hallway on the second floor. The window over the courtyard
would shine into an enormous master bath, with a walk-in shower
and cabinets to hide all her junk. But those dreams would have to
wait until she could afford to put money into something besides
her business.
51
Chapter 8
Present Day
Leo collected her props and stowed them in the corner of
the terrace with her camera bag. Fun was wasted on the likes
of Marjorie Pettigrew and her skeletal daughter Deborah. The
sooner she wrapped up this round of photos, the better for
everyone.
Deborah set her terrier aside and stood to brush her dress.
Versace would be spinning in his grave to see his label decorated
in animal fur, Leo thought.
Mother, we need to talk about the wheelchair, Deborah
said. Chantal thinks we should put Daddy on the left side so he
won t be in the way. I told her no, that he wouldn t be able to see
from there.
Nonsense. Your father can barely see as it is. Mrs. Pettigrew
made a dramatic display of pulling on a pair of long white gloves.
You can sit on the end beside him.
52
I don t mind if Grandfather sits in the center aisle, Eva
ventured.
No, it s settled. People will be watching you walk down the
aisle. They don t want to see some old man drooling. Chantal s
absolutely right.
So far, Leo had managed to avoid Chantal, the wedding
director from LA whose actual name was probably Linda or
Susan. The last thing she wanted was someone looking over her [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] - zanotowane.pl
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