Primary Colors Read Free

Queens and snagged a table in the corner. He was looking forward to spending time with Sal Pettrone and encouraging his artistic talent. Maybe someday, Sal would feel about him as Rafe felt about Jonas. The thought warmed him. Staring out the window, he watched people come into and go out of the various restaurants, then alittle blue Civic pulled up, garnering a coveted parking space out front
.
    Nia Ludzecky exited the car. The Indian-summer weather had allowed her to dress in a light yellow sweater that appeared soft to the touch and a skirt to match. She looked like a ray of sunshine you could capture in your hand. When she turned to gaze at something across the street, he saw her hair was braided again, andthe plait cascaded down her back. She didn’t smile as she headed to the door.
    He stood when she entered, and waved. Still, no change in her expression. But when she reached him, he saw friendliness and…gratefulness in her hazel eyes instead of the wariness of the day they met at school. “Hello, Nia.”
    “Rafe. Thank you so much for meeting me near work. Was it a haul coming out here?”
    “No, I drove and appreciate the chance to get out of the city.” He nodded to a chair. “What would you like?”
    “Coffee. Black.”
    He raised a brow. “No caramel macchiato with whipped cream?”
    Ah, this time the corners of her mouth turned up. “I usually have my dessert after a meal.”
    Grinning, he headed to the counter, put in her order and a soy latte with caramel flavoring for him. Hereturned and found her staring down at her phone
.
    “Here you go.”
    She put the cell away. He hated, really hated, when people checked their phones during an appointment. Or worse, at dinner.
    “What did you get?”
    “Dessert.” Man, was she easy on the eyes. And there was an aura about her, something mysterious and deep. He’d compare it to the
Mona Lisa
if that wasn’t so corny. “So, whatwould you like to know about me?”
    “Whatever isn’t on the Internet. Or actually, what isn’t true on the Internet.”
    “Ha! I don’t google myself.”
    “No? All those stories about you dancing with naked women on the tabletops at clubs aren’t true?”
    His jaw dropped.
“What?”
    Now she laughed, a soft, feminine sound
.
    She’d teased. Well, wasn’t that nice.
    “What do you already know?”

    “That you grew up in the city. A single mom, no siblings.”
    “That’s accurate.”
    “I can’t imagine what it would be like to be an only child.”
    “You have a sister, a twin.”
    “I have six sisters and a brother.”
    “No shit? Oops, sorry. But wow. What was
that
like?”
    Now her eyes shone like the brightest of lights. “Mostly wonderful. It still is.”
    “Lucky for you.” He heardthe note of sadness in his voice.
    “You didn’t have a happy childhood?”
    “No. But it got a lot better when I met Jonas Crane.”
    “The painter? Elizabeita loves his work.”
    “Elizabeita?”
    “My youngest sister. She works at the Met.”
    “Jonas will go down in history as one of the most important modern artists of the twentieth century.”
    She leaned in, as if warming to the conversation.“He mentored you?”
    “And much more. But yes. I was always interested in drawing and painting from the time I was a toddler. When I was a little older than Sal, I found the gallery Jonas ran right down the street and pestered him to let me hang out. He gave me a chance to be around art, then do some myself, overseen by him. By eight, I was a fixture at his gallery. My mother died when I wasten, and he and his then wife became foster parents. Not long after, he adopted me.”
    “So that’s why you want to help out Sal.”
    “In a way. But there’s more. Your son is talented, Nia. With a little instruction, especially at this age, art could be his life.”
    She frowned. “Is art your life?”
    “Inasmuch as any career is for most people. But if you’re asking if that’s all I do, no.”He winked at her. “Not