The Mermaid in Monet's Garden

Secrets of the Lilies

Some have called them beautiful, some have imagined them black, but only Claude knew what made them so alluring.
There are many secrets in Giverny, but one of them has yet to be revealed. For generations, treasure hunters and art collectors have tried to make their ways to every attic of every house that had seen the epoch of the great painter. Booking a room for the weekend, trying to get past the vigilance of a matriarch who'd already seen smarter and sneakier, breaking into estates, damaging architectural wonders their trained eyes couldn't even recognized, or seducing the good people of the village to gain admittance.
There were countless legends about these attics. And determining with precision how many of them still housed a Claude Monet painting, sketch, or postcard, was a sybil's game that painted the face sad of numerous players.
For a good century, they all looked up and none bothered to lower their gaze below the surface of the obvious.

Yet all this time, she too was looking upwards.

Glimpses and glances. Shimmers and shadows. She peeked across the lily pads and petals, catching glances as oblivious to her presence as she was of the mud at the bottom of the pond.
She had seen bare feet, fancy leather shoes, heavy boots, sneakers, sandals, even high heels, but they saw seen her.
The war passed her by, the bulldozers shimmied around her home, the painters even painted her - all unknowingly.

All this time she had been waiting. She didn't know what she was waiting for. But she was waiting nonetheless.