Chapter 350
Irving Butler glanced at Effie and muttered under his breath, “That’s odd. Did Effie have a change of heart? She’s not even upset.”
…
“Mr. Etheridge, do you want me to put this book away for you?” Luther gestured toward the novel Effie had finished reading yesterday, which now sat on the coffee table.
“Just leave it there,” Lyman replied.
It was rare for Effie to set foot in his office, let alone leave something behind. Lyman didn’t want to erase that small trace of her presence at least, not yet.
Luther eyed the casually abandoned book and couldn’t help but marvel at Effie’s influence. Usually, Lyman was the type of person who insisted everything be in its place, who wouldn’t tolerate even the slightest disorder, yet he was letting a book just sit out in the open.
Just then, Vinson Elliott and Randell pushed through the door.
“Lyman, what are you up to? We’re bored out of our minds. Why not join us for a ski trip abroad?” Vinson said, his face lighting up with excitement.
“Ski resorts here are all the same-crowded and basic. The slopes are tiny, and you spend half the time waiting in line. It’s no fun at all.”
Lyman glanced up at him, an unimpressed look in his eyes. “If you want to go, go by yourself. Don’t drag me into it.”
Randell picked up the book from the coffee table and flipped through it absentmindedly. “Lyman, why are you reading these again? Haven’t you already finished them ages ago?”
It wasn’t just these few books; Lyman had read every single volume lining the wall-length bookshelf in his office.
He had a terrifying habit-an almost photographic memory-and could speed- read like nobody else, taking in entire pages at a glance.
No matter how you quizzed him afterward, he could recall every detail.
It was downright intimidating. No wonder he’d skipped ahead in school while the rest of them had spent their lives playing catch-up.
Randell thought to himself, Lyman just loves to show off. Why else would he install a whole wall of bookshelves in his office? It was practically an announcement: “Look at me, the most well-read man in the room.”
Suddenly, as Randell flipped through book,
Hething caught his eye.
He stared in disbelief. “Seriously? Lyman, I didn’t take you for a narcissist!”
Lyman shot him a sharp look. “What are you talking about?”
“I mean, it’s one thing to read, but why sketch a self-portrait in your book? Who can concentrate on the stor with your face staring back at them?” Randell teased.
Everyone would be too distracted by the handsome guy in the margins.
“What self-portrait? Let me see!” Vinson Elliott, ever the gossip, leaned in for a better look.
He exclaimed, “Whoa, Lyman, I gotta say—you’ve really outdone yourself…”
Before Vinson could finish his sentence, he caught Lyman’s icy glare and swallowed the rest of his words.
He cleared his throat. “When did you get so good at drawing? You never told us you had this hidden talent.”
Lyman strode over and snatched the book from Randell’s hands.
When he saw the sketches inside, he froze.
He hadn’t drawn these, but he knew exactly who had.
Aside from him, the only other person who’d touched the book was Effie. He was certain-these sketches had to be hers.
Without saying another word, Lyman tucked the book under his arm and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” Vinson called after him. “Come on, it’s just the three of us who’ve seen these ‘self portraits.’ No need to rush off and destroy the evidence!”
Randell elbowed Vinson and whispered, “Do you really think Lyman drew those?”
“How should I know? Anything’s possible. Maybe he’s more self-absorbed than we thought,” Vinson replied.
Randell rolled his eyes, at a complete loss for words.