"How about me?" Philip asked. He came out in fringed pants and a vest that almost fit him. But the tengallon hat was about nine gallons too big.
"Fearsome," Will said. "Fearsome and awesome, if only I could see your chin."
Ivy laughed, feeling more comfortable again.
"How about if we try a different size?"
"Make it black," said Philip.
"Right. Slim."
Will found a hat and got the three of them lined up in front of the camera, angling them just right. Then he pushed his hat back and went behind the camera. It was a new camera in the body of an old one, rigged up to give off a big puff of smoke — that was part of the show. But after the flash and die smoke, Will's head shot up from behind the equipment He looked almost comical, and at first Ivy thought that too was part of the show. But the way Will was staring made all three of them turn to look behind them.
"I — uh — I'm going to take another," he said. "Can you set yourselves just like before?"
They did, and a second puff of smoke was sent up.
"What went wrong the first time?" Beth asked. "I'm not sure." A look Ivy couldn't interpret passed between him and Beth. He shook his head. Then the hat was back over his eyes again. "These will take a few minutes to print. Do you want two or three copies?" Will asked them.
"Two's fine," Ivy replied. "One for Beth and one for us."
"I want my own copy," said Philip. "So do I," said another voice. Everyone turned.
"Howdy, pardner," Gregory said, holding his hand out to Philip. "Ladies." His eyes lingered on Ivy, traveling down her slowly.
Suzanne gave her a quicker look. "You sure squeezed yourself into that one," she remarked. "It's a wonder a crowd hasn't gathered."
Will pulled on his tight pants. "Are you talking about her or me?" he asked lightly.
Gregory laughed. Beth laughed after Gregory did, then glanced uncomfortably at Suzanne. Suzanne wasn't amused.
Will shoved two film cartridges in the developing machine and set up for his next group of customers.
"Suzanne, there were only two dresses alike," Ivy said quickly, "and Beth and I wanted to match, so she took that one and I took— Tell her, Beth."
But as Beth repeated the explanation. Ivy said to herself. Why bother? Until Gregory learns to keep his eyes from wandering to other girls, it's hopeless. I wish he'd wander them over to Beth, though.
She turned toward die dressing room. Gregory caught her by die arm. "We'll wait for you," he said.
"We're going to check out Will's paintings."
Ivy saw Suzanne out of the corner of her eye, drumming her fingers on the top of a trunk, her pinky ring flashing.
"We've already seen them," Ivy told him. "Though we didn't know which were his," Beth said. "The artists' names are still covered." "They're watercolors," Gregory told them. "Watercolors?" Ivy and Beth repeated at the same time.
"Will," Gregory called out. "What's your entry number?"
"Thirty-three," he replied.
Beth and Ivy exchanged glances.
"You painted the garden where Ivy wants to sit for hours," Beth said.
"And the snake," Philip said.
"And the woman with blossoms falling around her like snow," Ivy added.
"That's right." Will continued to work, arranging his customers before the camera.
"They were amazing!" Beth said.
"I like the snake." said Philip.
Ivy watched Will without saying anything. He was being the cool Will O'Leary again, acting as if his paintings and what they said about them didn't matter to him. Then she saw the quick turn of the head, as if he were checking to see whether she was still there. She realized then that he had wanted her to make a comment.
"Your paintings are really… uh…" All the words she could think of sounded flat.
"That's okay," he said, cutting her short before she could come up with the right description.
"Are you coming along for a second look?" Gregory asked impatiently.
"Be out in a minute," Beth replied, hurrying toward the dressing room.
Philip was walking to the dressing room and undressing at the same time.
"1 can't," Ivy said to Gregory. "I play at five o'clock and I need to—" "Practice?" His eyes flashed.
"I need time to collect myself, to think through what I'm playing, that's all. I can't do that with everyone around."
"I'm sorry you can't come," Suzanne said, and Ivy knew she was making progress. Still, it hurt her to see Gregory turn away.
She dawdled in the dressing room long enough for the others to go. When she came out, there were only two customers left, trying on hats and laughing.
Wilt was relaxing in a canvas chair with one leg propped up on a trunk, studying a photograph in his hands. He turned it facedown when he saw her. "Thanks for stopping by," he said.
"Will, you didn't give me a chance to tell you what I liked about your paintings. I couldn't find the right words at first—" "I wasn't fishing for compliments. Ivy."
"I don't care whether you were or weren't," she said, and plopped down in the chair across from him. "I have something to say."
"All right." His mouth curved up slightly. "Shoot."
"It's about the one called Too Soon."
Will took off his hat. She wished he had kept it on. Somehow — more and more, it seemed — looking into his eyes made it difficult for her to speak. She told herself they were just deep brown eyes, but whenever she looked into them she felt as if she were going into free fall.
The eyes are windows to the soul, she'd read once. And his were wide open.
She focused on her hands. "Sometimes, when something touches you, it's hard to find the words. You can say things like 'beautiful,' 'fabulous/ 'awesome,' but the words don't really describe how you feel, especially if you were feeling all that, but the picture made you — made you hurt some, too. And your picture did." She flexed her fingers. "That's all."
"Thanks," Will said.
She looked up at him then, which was a mistake.
"Ivy-" She tried to look away, but couldn't.
"— how are you?"
"I'm fine. Really, I am." Why did she have to keep telling people that? And why, when she said it to Will, did it feel as if he could see straight through the lie?
"I have something to say, too," he told her. "Take care of yourself."
She could feel him looking at her cheek, the one that had been bruised during the assault. There was still a pale wash of color there, though she had done her best to disguise it with makeup.
"Please take care of yourself."
"Why wouldn't I?" she snapped.
"Sometimes people don't."
Ivy wanted to say. You don't know what you're talking about, you've never lost anyone you loved. But then she remembered Gregory's words about Will having gone through a tough time. Maybe Will did understand.
"Who's the person in your painting?" Ivy asked. "Is it someone you knew?"
"My mother. My father still won't look at the picture." Then he waved chat thought away and leaned forward. "Be careful. Ivy. Don't forget that there are other people who will feel that they have lost everything if they lose you."
Ivy looked away.
He reached for her face. She pulled back instinctively when he touched the bruised side. But he didn't hurt her, and he didn't let go. He cupped one hand around the back of her head. There was no escaping him.
Maybe she didn't want to escape him.
"Be careful, Ivy. Be careful!" His eyes shone with a strange intensity. "I'm telling you — be careful!"
Ivy blinked. Then she broke away from Will and ran.
Tristan lay back in the grass, exhausted. The park at the end of Main Street was filling up with people.
Their picnic blankets looked like bright-colored rafts on a green sea. Kids rolled around and punched each other. Dogs pulled against their leashes and touched noses. Two teenagers kissed. An older couple flipped down their sunshades and watched, the woman smiling.