The Singing Trees by Boo Walker

Chapter 37

FLYING WITH WINGS

“Which one is your favorite?” someone from the group of people circling Annalisa asked.

“That’s easy,” she said, pointing at one of the eleven paintings hanging on the brick wall of Sharon Maxwell’s studio. It was packed with buyers and journalists and enthusiasts from all over New England.

Annalisa turned to the man, who was scribbling on a notepad. “I call this My Celias.” She was still blown away at the pricing Sharon had chosen. One sale could buy her a car. “That’s my mother and my daughter, and this is the . . .” A rich set of emotions hit her, feeling her mother’s presence as if the wind chimes were singing from above.

She stopped and collected herself. “This is the only time they ever met, on the canvas here.”

The piece was set on their side porch in Bangor under the wind chimes, and it captured her mother sitting in front of her easel, with Celia resting on her knee. Her mother was giving her granddaughter her first painting lesson.

All her paintings had meant so much to her, but during the process of this one, she’d finally found peace with her mother—and maybe her father a little bit too. She’d decided that nothing about life was easy, and sometimes it gets the best of us. No matter what, it wasn’t worth holding on to anger. Maybe one day she’d even paint her father.

Someone asked if she used a palette knife at all, but Annalisa’s attention had gone across the warehouse to the entrance. Thirty-plus Mancusos poured through the door. Jubilant tears pricked her eyes when she saw Nino pushing Walt in his wheelchair, with Nonna walking by his side. Aunt Julia pushed Celia in the stroller next, and then came her uncles and aunts and cousins.

“Excuse me for a moment,” she said, breaking through the circle of people. As her clan approached her, she was once again reminded how lucky she was to be a Mancuso, and she saw very clearly that the family and the small town that had rescued her from her loss in Bangor were the exact essence of life. As they came her way, cheering so loudly that every person in the entire warehouse turned, she decided her next painting would be with every last one of them. They, the Mancusos and Walt Burzinski, were the reason she was standing here today, finally, after all these years, realizing her dream.

Annalisa turned to her left and saw Sharon Maxwell watching the scene with her silver eyes. Without a word spoken, her teacher threw up her arms into stars and let out a brilliant smile. Feeling a fullness in her heart that she thought she might never know, Annalisa raised her own arms and spread them as wide as she possibly could.

This was life, she thought, staring up through the ceiling to heaven. This was what it was about, and she felt the power of her mother rush through her.

Walt Burzinski was issued his wings two days later, with Annalisa and Nonna by his side. They held his hands and watched him go, a whisper drifting off into the clouds as the chirp of the monitor flatlined. Annalisa could almost see the life run from his body, and she raised her head up, saying a prayer and thanking God for putting him in their life.

It was a bout with pneumonia that finally got him, and she was thankful he went peacefully. Seeing Nonna saying goodbye was the toughest part. The two of them had come to love each other, and Annalisa was reminded how painful love could be. She had already watched Nonna say goodbye to her husband, and before that, her son—Annalisa’s father. The more people you loved, the more goodbyes you had to endure.

And yet Annalisa realized in the hours after losing Walt that all the pain that came with loving was absolutely worth it. What was the point of living if you spent it in fear? What was the point of life without love? She thought about her promise to say yes the next time someone asked her out.

For the first time since seeing the photograph of Thomas and Linh, Annalisa considered the possibility of finding love again. She thought of Walt and how he’d found renewed life through love. She thought of Nonna and Walt’s relationship, and how they’d both decided it was never too late to love. Maybe their coupling was a message to Annalisa. Thomas might not have worked out, but why should she let him sour the chance of her finding true love?

Several days later, Walt’s lawyer called her. He asked that she and Nonna come see him the next day. When the lawyer detailed what Walt had bequeathed them, Nonna and Annalisa nearly fell to the floor. The building, the shop, his Plymouth, and his money. It turned out that his wife had come from a wealthy family. Annalisa suspected he must have lived such a modest life because he would have felt guilty living off his late wife’s money. And maybe he was too consumed by pain to enjoy it anyway.

The final surprise was that he’d left them a house on the ocean in Bar Harbor.

“Say that again,” Annalisa said, glancing at Nonna and wondering if her mommy brain was confusing her.

Sitting up in his leather chair, the big cheery lawyer with sideburns chuckled. “You heard me right. Walt owned a house in Bar Harbor they call Graystone. It’s yours now.”

“Graystone,” Annalisa whispered, remembering the name written on the back of the photograph she’d found in Walt’s closet.

She turned to Nonna, sitting in the chair next to her. “He had a house in Bar Harbor? Did you know?”

“He may have mentioned something about it.”

Annalisa reached for her hand. Walt’s death had been so hard on them, but Nonna especially. “Do we really have a house in Bar Harbor?”

“Overlooking the Atlantic,” the lawyer added. “Right on the water.”