Sparks Fly

than sugar or carnival rides.
    She looked like a woman who was falling in love.
    She loved the way Will cared for his mother. She loved how hard he’d tried to be the man of the house when his father left. She loved the way he made her laugh and how he’d held her tight when she was frightened on the roller coaster.
    And, oh, did she love his kisses.
    Alarmed by the strength of her feelings, Angelina splashed her face with cool water, then let it run over her hands until they were practically numb.
    She hoped she could mask her feelings from his mother, even though she was pretty sure it was a pointless endeavor. Joyce noticed everything around her—so there was no way she could be blind to the way Angelina felt about her son.
    Joyce was just laying her last brush down to dry in the kitchen when Angelina stepped into the living room. “Where should we start?”
    Angelina quickly scanned the room and noted that Will was gone. “The kitchen is just fine.”
    Angelina hoped they could get through the open kitchen, dining, and living room before Will reappeared. She had a terrible hunch that if he was in the room, she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything at all.
    Working on the main rooms in the cottage ended up being a quick affair, just as Angelina had thought it might be. They moved a rocking chair to a different corner of the living room so that people wouldn’t trip over it. Then they put up a small mirror behind the stove so that Joyce would be able to see what was going on behind her while she was cooking.
    When they moved into the guest bedroom, Angelina said, “Joyce, this watercolor above the bed is one of the most beautiful paintings I have ever seen.”
    “I agree. Will has more innate talent than any painter I have ever known.”
    Angelina’s mouth fell open. “Will created this masterpiece?” Quickly, she put two and two together. “He painted the watercolor oceanscape in his house, too, didn’t he?”
    “He certainly did,” Joyce replied, full of pride. “He was only twenty-one.”
    Before Angelina could remind herself to keep a professional distance, she said, “But Joyce, Will told me today he wasn’t good enough. How he had to accept his lack of talent and get a normal job to earn a paycheck. But you know what? I didn’t believe him. I couldn’t. Not when I heard the passion for art in his voice. I saw his love of painting in his eyes.”
    She looked up finally, realizing she had just aired all of her private thoughts—and feelings—to Will’s mother. “Forgive me,” she said, feeling horribly embarrassed. “I don’t mean to be babbling like this. I’m just so surprised.”
    Joyce patted her hand. “No need to apologize to me. I know exactly how you feel. The day he came home with all of his brushes and canvases packed up in a crate, telling me he was finished painting, saying he was done fooling around—it broke my heart.”
    As they made their way through the rest of the house, Angelina couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to the boy who had wanted to be a painter, but gave it up to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders instead.

    * * *
    They had just walked back into the kitchen when Will stepped inside, stuffing his cell phone into his pocket. It was clear to both women that something was very wrong.
    He ran his right hand through his hair. “I’ve got to get back to California right away.” In answer to both women’s perplexed stares, he said, “Looks like the new CFO is trying to convince the board to have me removed.” Turning to his mother, he asked, “Will you be all right without me?”
    Joyce patted his hand. “I’ll be fine. I’m just glad you were able to come at all. Soon you can come back out for a vacation.”
    “How would you like a ride back in my private jet?” Will asked Angelina. “It’s waiting for us at the airstrip.”
    Angelina looked back and forth from Will to Joyce, trying to make up her mind. “Your mother already purchased a first class ticket for me and I don’t want to waste her money.”
    “Don’t worry,” Joyce said, a grin on her lips. “I used Will’s money to pay for your ticket. It’s the only time I’ve ever used that ridiculous trust fund he set up for me. I should really give it to charity.
    Go with him. His private plane is really fun.”
    As soon as Angelina left the room, Will spoke softly. “Thanks, Mom, for bringing Angelina here.” He couldn’t say anything more. Not until he