Meanwhile, inside the art gallery, the atmosphere was more peaceful. Blair stood beside Hazel, gazing at the pastel-colored paintings displayed on the wall. Jonathan stood slightly behind them, watching them both.
“I like this one,” Hazel said, pointing to a painting of a woman holding an umbrella in the rain. “She looks lonely, but also strong.”
Blair turned, smiling gently. “You’re good at reading pictures, Hazel.”
“Daddy says I have an artist’s eye,” the little girl replied proudly, then took Blair’s hand.
The touch was simple, but comforting. Blair felt her chest lighten a little every time she was with Hazel. The child seemed to bring an authenticity that adults didn’t possess—pure, genuine.
Jonathan moved closer. “She really likes you.”
Blair looked toward him. “I like her too.
