Seventh Wonder Read Online Free Page B

Lowry?”
    She turned her face to have a better look at him. “It’s Meg.”
    That smile. “Meg.” He gave an approving nod. “Am I standing too close?”
    “No?” She frowned in confusion, and he softly chuckled.
    “I only meant that I hope your boyfriend won’t worry about your talking to a strange man.”
    “Oh. No.” She ironed the wrinkle from her forehead. “We broke up.” Without conscious forethought, she claimed joint ownership of the decision to split. She couldn’t pretend to be the spurned lover while she felt equally as freed as Rick must.
    A beat of silence passed before he responded. “I’m sorry.”
    She expelled a breath and squared her shoulders, affecting an air of quiet dignity. “Don’t be. I’m not.”
    “You’re not sorry?”
    “No. It was right that it happened. He’s just...braver than I am.”
    Together they gazed silently outward. John placed his hand on the railing beside hers, and Meg felt herself pass through that interim phase between diffidence and self-assurance. Her insecurities melted away, and for reasons unclear, she was able to stand up straighter.
    Her newfound confidence seemed to have captured John’s attention. After a moment, she sensed his eyes on her again. “You look at me a lot,” she said carefully, watching intently as a golden eagle tipped its wings, gliding on an eddying draught of air.
    “You’re very pretty,” he replied.
    She envied his ability to express such an opinion without embarrassment or regret. Her mouth quivered as she suppressed a smile.
    She let his statement hang in the air a moment before speaking. “I saw your artwork hanging in the lodge. You have a gift.”
    If he was surprised by her revelation, he gave no indication. He bent at his lean waist and propped his elbows against the railing, his long fingers dangling. “I’m glad you liked it.”
    “What does Artist-in-Residence mean?” she asked, recalling the title printed beneath his name.
    “It means I’ve been granted the privilege of living here for twelve weeks, away from my usual commitments, to practice and reflect in an environment that isn’t my own.” He looked back at her; his eyes roamed over her face. “It’s a chance to live in partial seclusion - you know... Perfect my craft.”
    “Withdraw from society?” she guessed. “Escape the bourgeois pigs?”
    His lips cracked in a smile. “Exactly.”
    “I hate to tell you” - Meg leaned in as if to share a secret and was momentarily sidetracked by the sandalwood-and-suede scent of him - “but you’re sort of surrounded by them.”
    He cast a glance over his shoulder. “You’re right. I’ve been here five weeks, and this is only the second time I’ve ventured up for the dinner hour. Too many Philistines, I think... Don’t you?”
    His tone was light, with an edge of mischief. Perhaps he was teasing, although she couldn’t be sure. Was his question a rhetorical one?
    “Why did you come then?” she asked finally.
    For half a second, he appeared to think it over. “I suppose I came because I was hoping to find you.”
    She felt a blush climb up her ears and take hold of her jaw before filling in her cheeks. For a moment she wished she could turn away from him without seeming boorish.
    Suddenly Rick (of all people) appeared beside her. “We’re heading inside, Meg.” He glanced between her and John, taking measure of the situation. “Everything all right?” he asked cautiously.
    “Fine,” she replied flippantly. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
    He seemed reluctant to walk away, but finally did when Alice called his name. The deck had mostly emptied with the coming of nightfall; those remaining were bathed in the sodium lamps’ topaz glow. Meg’s untouched glass of chardonnay perched on a side table in a pond of condensation.
    “It’s so beautiful,” she said, turning back to the canyon. She wasn’t ready to leave him yet. “I keep having to remind myself it’s real - not just some