He rolled the drawing and put it back in the tube. "It's for you; it's a present." He held it out. Ruby hesitated and then took it.
"Been a while since I had a present."
"So," Don said, "take care. See you when I get back."
"Lord willing. Thank you. Thank you for the present." The walls came down and she smiled like a girl.
"My pleasure." He bowed and walked toward the river. The Silver Meteor was due at 5:50.
Don got to bed with Lorna that summer. She wasn't quite it, though he loved her and would never tell her that. He did a portrait of her, his best yet, and gave it to Molly knowing that Lorna wouldn't accept it or would feel guilty for not paying if she did. The days were long and intense, but the summer was gone in a flash.
Strangely, he was offered a show in New York—his other long time dream—by a gallery owner who was after Lorna. He did not want to be involved in their relationship. He turned the show down, pretending that the requirements were too much trouble. It probably wouldn't have worked out, anyway, he thought. Some people have a knack for dangling what you want in front of you; when you reach for it, it disappears.
Late in October he went over to Lorna's and said goodbye. She seemed sad and a bit relieved. Molly had tears in her eyes and hugged him wholeheartedly.
The next morning a cold rain was bringing down the leaves as Don carried his bag to the bus station. The shoulders of his tan raincoat were wet through when he boarded the Greyhound for Boston. Three rows back, he found an empty seat by a window and looked out at the glistening street. He saw a painting, full of light.
Waiting for Happiness