Waking up early was never Conrad Fisher's thing. He'd stay up all night, smoking by the pool and drinking during the summer nights, and wake up at noon at the earliest. His family and the Conklin's tried to get him to wake up early to "enjoy the sunshine," or whatever bullshit reason they had come up with to get him out of bed before 11, but it never worked. Conrad would stay in bed until noon, and nothing in the past 17 summers of him living in Cousins could change that.
Until Alice O'Brien started coming around in the morning.
Susannah Fisher was basically the only artist in Cousins, or at least she thought so. The only other people she had met at local art fairs or supply stores were glorified scrapbookers or shitty watercolor artists. She always tried to avoid conversations at the art supply store, often fearing that the other "artists" there would corner her into boring conversations about their own pieces or not-so-subtly interrogate her about Conrad or Jeremiah. It was on one such trip, keeping her head down and avoiding all the unfortunately familiar faces, that she collided with a teenage girl, both of their armfuls of supplies spilling onto the ground.
"Oh my goodness, I am so sorry, honey, I wasn't looking where I was going-"
"It's all good, it's kinda hard to break a tube of ink and a chunk of linoleum!"
"I still feel horrible...?"
"Alice! Alice O'Brien."
"Alice, it's so nice to meet you. It's nice to see a fresh face around here every once in a while. I'm Susannah Fisher."
"Nice to meet you, Ms. Fisher!"
The two looked down into their hands at their paints and inking supplies, fiddling with the tubes to adjust them to rest comfortably in their hands. They looked back up at each other and started to walk in the same direction towards the canvases and watercolor paper in the store
"Is this your first year here?" Susannah asked as they walked and looked for the right materials.
"Yes, actually! My close friends have a house up here and I was invited to stay with them this summer."
"Who are you staying with? I know basically everyone around here, I wouldn't be surprised if I knew them."
Alice thought briefly before replying. Was she really going to tell this random lady where she was staying the whole summer? The answer was yes.
"The O'Leary's and the Swanholm's?" She replied, almost like she was asking a question.
"Oh my goodness! Of course! Those girls really are too sweet," Susannah said as she grabbed a canvas from a higher shelf, "Mamie and Susie, right?"
"Yep! That's them!"
"Anyways, it was lovely talking with you, Alice."
"It was lovely talking with you too, Ms. Fisher," Alice smiled in response.
"Don't call me that; it makes me feel old. Call me Susannah."
There was a brief moment of silence between the two as they both reached the register. After they both bought their supplies for the summer, the two seemed hesitant to leave the other. Alice shifted her weight from her left foot to her right when Susannah broke the silence.
"Our house has a pretty large space to work and a beautiful view of the beach, if you'd ever like to come over and work? You could show me some of your printmaking techniques and we could paint. The lighting is just fantastic in the morning, but absolutely no pressure if you don't want to."
Alice nodded her head in thanks and as an answer as they both strolled toward the exit, left the store, and went their separate ways.
Ever since that day in the beginning of June, Alice made her way over to the Fisher's beach house around 8am on Wednesdays and Thursdays to paint and show Susannah the prints that she made that week. Alice would set up easels outside on the patio while Susannah made tea for the two of them. The ocean was serene at this time of the day, and the two would sit in relative quiet, only talking when one had a question or a quick story to tell. It was like a scheduled time for peace, the paint strokes hitting canvases in a sort of meditative rhythm that sent the two into a sort of trance that can only be reached when creating art. It was only them that were awake during this time, and by the time they finished around an hour later, only Laurel, Steven, and Jeremiah would be awake regularly. Sometimes, Belly would wake up earlier to make pancakes or to go to a practice for the deb ball and greet Alice as she was packing up her paints around 9:30-10. Jeremiah might bring Alice and his mom muffins around 9:15, Steven might come out around 9:30 to say he was leaving for work, and Laurel would often come outside with them and watch in silence as they painted.
Conrad never saw Alice. She was always gone by the time he woke up at noon. His limited knowledge of Alice consisted of the fact that she came over sometimes to paint with his mom and she was around his age. Alice didn't take up much space in his brain until he had to wake up early one Thursday to teach a sailing lesson. His alarm went off at 8:15 on the dot, and Conrad didn't tear himself away from his comforter for another five minutes. Not bothering to put a shirt on, he made his way downstairs to grab a quick breakfast before he went back upstairs to actually get ready for the day. He had just turned from the kitchen island when he heard a laugh from the patio. It wasn't Belly's, it wasn't his mom's, it wasn't like any other laugh he'd heard before. That laugh, he decided then, was probably going to be the death of him.
He opened the glass French doors to the patio, where he saw his mom and a mop of blonde curls, bouncing with laughter at something his mom had said. She turned her face slightly so Conrad could see the silhouette of her smiling face against the harsh sun on the water. Conrad stepped to the side slightly to see what she was painting, and his jaw dropped. Her canvas was a bright array of colors, painting what was right ahead of her: the ocean. He would never tell his mom this, but this mystery girl's painting was way better than hers. The door that Conrad had forgotten about suddenly slammed behind him, causing his mom and the girl to whip their heads around towards him.
"Oh Alice! This is my son, Conrad. I don't think you two have met yet?"
Alice fully turned around, waved, and smiled at him, the rolled sleeve of her grandpa sweater flailing slightly with each shake of her paint-covered arm. Her face seemed to color on the apples of her cheeks, her eyebrows raised and her mouth formed a smirk when Conrad remembered that he wasn't currently wearing a shirt.
"Cold?" Alice jokingly questioned him as his face flushed.
Shit. He was so screwed.
