Appointment with a Smile (26 page)

I glanced at my watch. “It’s the middle of the night in Colorado. But yes, I’ll phone. Roxie’s always willing to help.”

“Get hold of her and give her the directives. She shouldn’t mind getting out of bed for art’s sake. Probably needs to let the dogs take a leak anyway. One of the three ought to need a piss. Tell her I can have a twenty-four-hour-shipping company crate them and ship them immediately. Roxie may miss a few hours sleep, but she’ll be handsomely rewarded, I assure you.”

“She’s a student, so a few extra bucks will come in handy.”

“Danielle, she’s been such a great help. I was thinking more about paying off her college loan or some damned thing. Give her a grant. Always a good tax deduction.”

“Wow, Fiona. You amaze me. A benefactor of the arts.”

“Friends are hard to come by. Tell her a dozen or more.”

“Okay. A dozen it is. I’ll have her clean out a closet.”

“As soon as my European exhibits are complete, I want to come out there to Colorado to see exactly what you’ve got hidden away. With relative certainty, I believe you’ve stashed away some great work. Your remaining paintings need to be accurately categorized and photographed. We’ll want an entire array, including early work for Boston. We plan to have that catalogue of your work become an art piece in itself. Best printer in the United States. We’ll need all available work included.”

“I’d like to do the selecting. Some work isn’t really ready.”

“You say some of your work is terrible, and actually it’s superb. I’m afraid you’ll try to be your own critic. You won’t shoot photos of all your work. I must come to Colorado and scrounge.”

“Can’t fool me. Any excuse to come to Colorado. You’re a good Ladybugs Rock mascot. Love that Colorado.”

“You are my very favorite Saph, but you really get on my nerves sometimes, Danielle. Now, as to what you have in your current inventory. At your hotel room.”

“I have
Bethany’s Smile, Arrival of Hope, Together,
and
Noonday Bison Picnic
completed. There are three in various stages of completion:
Invited Guests, Ladybugs Rock London,
and
Perpetual Smile.
I’ve promised the one of Bethany and me
,
Together
,
to Bethany.”

“Did it occur to you to give her flowers and candy? Nothing like handing over a painting worth thousands when a nice bundle of roses would do.”

“She’s not just any woman, Fiona. She deserves roses, of course. I haven’t even sent those. She’s been an enormous help, as well as my model and muse.”

“I’ll send Spencer over to pick up the three completed works when you’re ready. Ones you haven’t given away, that is. Now then, get your bum over to the hotel and paint your heart out. Load those brushes. We need stock. Once again, we’re nearly sold out.”

“I always paint my heart out,” I said a little too curtly. “Not because I can make more sales. Because I do.”

“Well, keep doing. I do live for your making more sales. That’s my job. About Friday night after the show. I’ll book a lavish dinner at The Scripted Banquet.”

“We’ll love that.”

“Go to the hotel and call when you’ve completed each painting. I’ll get the staff here to frame them as soon as they arrive. If you need any more blank canvases, just holler.”

“Will do. I’ll call Roxie before I go on a little excursion this morning. After which I’ll sit down and paint.”

“Excursion?”

“Something I need to do. I want to go to the open-air market again. Afterwards, I’ll have an early lunch at a certain restaurant before I get back to painting.”

“Places you saw Molly. Am I right?” Fiona asked gently.

I nodded. “I want to paint one final picture of Molly, and I’d like to add some things.”

“It’s pretty much all emotional with you, isn’t it?”

“I’ve never done assembly-line art, and I won’t ever do stamp-out art. You know that, Fiona.”

“You’re beginning to sound like a counterculture bitch.”

“That description will look dandy in my fancy-dancy Boston promotional materials. Feel free to use it in our shiny new catalogue. Counterculture bitch paints.”

“Go paint, silly. Don’t let your paints dry out. Your work isn’t done.”

After the call to Roxie, I considered what a wonderful surprise it would be for her not to have to pay off student loans for the next twenty years. She had indeed reported that all three of the dogs needed to be let out for their potty break.

I took a brisk walk that helped clear my head. I first stopped at an elegant jewelry shop I’d passed by several times. I ordered five gold pins with ladybugs on the decorated side. On the backs, I had four of them engraved with “Ladybugs Rock Member” and individual names. On the other, “Ladybugs Rock Mascot” and Fiona’s name. The manager assured me they’d be ready prior to the closing evening of my art show.

I continued on to the market. Through an open-air market’s buzz and swirl of motion, I searched for the stall where Molly looked at the book. I remembered mostly watching her with indifference toward what she was holding. When I approached the stall, I examined the various large books with predominantly white and black covers.

“Excuse me, sir.” I called the stall keeper over. “I don’t suppose you recall an American woman here a little over a week ago.” I described Molly and expected a negative response.

“Ducky, I do remember just such a woman. Classy. Looking at an art book, she was. I say that my brother likes to draw. She tells me she had a friend in her past who paints. Anyway, an art book.”

“Do you recall which one? And do you still have it?” I tried to temper my excitement.

He pawed through several stacks of books on the opposite counter. He pulled one from the bottom and handed it to me. “This, ’en. I remember. Thought I would flog it off to her, but in the end, she said no. Then she says too many memories.”

I swallowed hard. The book was the biography of my favorite artist, Cecilia Beaux. I thumbed through a few pages. I wondered if Molly had viewed the same paintings I had. She had held it to her breast, nearly embracing it.

“I’ll take it,” I said. I pulled out my money and handed him a twenty-pound note. “Perhaps she put it back so that I might have it.”

“Chance would be a fine thing.” He handed me coins and a note. “You stumped up too much lolly, ducky.”

“Please, keep the change. Your good memory was a great help.”

I left that stall and made my way to the next. There I searched out the small teacup set that Molly had examined. After finding it and purchasing it, I took a cab to Fav’s Restaurant where I’d met Molly both times.

I requested the table where we had sat the last time I was with her. I ordered as I was being seated. I selected the exact salad, tea, and wine that Molly and I had when we met.

I called Roxie again to ask whether she’d had any problems shipping those additional paintings. She told me no, and the shipping company had been in touch. They would be there in a couple of hours. Roxie would call Fiona after the shipment was crated and on its way. Roxie said she assumed Fiona stayed awake all night running her business. I chuckled, stating it was probably not all night and probably not all business.

I also suggested that Roxie get some of her own artwork together. I told her Fiona would be coming to Colorado and would tell her exactly how terrific her art was. Knowing Fiona, she would assist Roxie in any way she could. The key was that Roxie’s art deserved attention.

With phone still in hand, I ordered a dozen yellow roses delivered to Bethany’s office. I had neglected her dreadfully. I knew better. My grandparents always taught us never to neglect treasures. They had taught their children that as well. But I forever questioned why the others, my aunts and uncles, had learned it, and my mother hadn’t. There were two possibilities. Perhaps she had never learned it. Or perhaps she had and didn’t consider my brother and me as treasures. Even after decades, I questioned both incoming love and outgoing love.

The waiter brought a lush salad while I was examining the book I’d purchased. Although many artists had made distinct impressions on me, Cecilia Beaux had the most influence on my work. Naturally, a confluence of artists lent to my style and technique. But I’d been smitten with Beaux’s work since first seeing it all those many years ago. Molly hadn’t forgotten. I wondered, had she actually put the book back thinking I somehow might find it? Probably not, but I had.

I replaced it in my shopping bag and carefully took out the little cup and saucer. Standing only about two inches high, the cup had elegantly inscribed flourishes in delft blue. Blue was Molly’s favorite color. This was her favorite restaurant in London. Carefully I placed the little teacup down on its saucer. Gazing at the teapot on the table, I smiled and poured a spot of tea into the miniature cup. I toasted, saying in my mind, “For you, Molly. I’ll forever love you.” Tears formed in my eyes as I sipped.

Chapter 49

For the next three days, I painted relentlessly. Having told Bethany that, per Fiona, I was under extreme duress to paint, I gave her the option to stay with me at the hotel while I painted. The option was hardly a good one for someone in a newly formed romance. She elected to stay, informing me I needed someone to wash my brushes. She also joked that I needed a handler-slash-keeper.

Between watching me work and being ignored, Bethany more than proved her dedication. She spent her nonworking time at my side. What I failed to tell her was that looking across the room and seeing her smile actually fortified my massive resolve to complete the final three paintings. She did, as promised, clean my brushes. She also ordered food for us and rubbed my sometimes-aching shoulders.

I hadn’t the words to tell her how she inspired me to continue. When she thanked me for the roses, I failed to mention she deserved flowers every day. Being with me, understanding me, and loving me couldn’t be easy. A quickly whispered “thanks” when she poured tea and brought it to me seemed only barely gracious. As I finished
Ladybugs Rock London
, I hoped she could see the gratitude in my eyes.

As hours and days dwindled, I was working on
Perpetual Smile
. It was beginning to get the exact look Molly gave me as she turned back while getting into the limousine. I had superimposed a tote bag that hung from Molly’s shoulder. The small cup and saucer peeked out from it. In her arm was the book she’d perused. They seemed not only appropriate but also necessary. I made a mental note to send the little tea set to Samantha and to tell her the story about Molly’s cosseting it at the market.

By Friday midafternoon, I had completed
Perpetual Smile
to my satisfaction. It was my final painting to be included in the show. I called the gallery to have the canvases picked up. The gallery had already selected the frames. The grand finale, after the show’s closing, would be the Ladybugs Rock party.

Bethany had gone back to her apartment to get ready. She said she would meet me at the gallery at seven. Fiona had called several times to verify and set prices. Her price list included a few that were in the gallery, a dozen sent from Colorado a couple of days earlier, and the works I had produced within the last week.

The final time she called, she was doing the tally and realized I’d completed a total of ten pictures during the two weeks I’d been in London.

“Maybe you should think of relocating,” she said with a taunting lilt to her voice.

“This has been an extraordinary time in my life. I’ve never been the world’s most prolific painter. I’m certain there’s no way I can keep up this pace.”

“Picasso did.”

“I probably won’t. So don’t bet the farm on it.”

“Well, it’s wonderful, Danielle. I’m thrilled. And I’m personally purchasing the
Ladybugs Rock England
painting. I’ve never been a model before.”

“Maybe some of the nightmarish harridans painted by that German artist are meant to be you.”

“Oh, fuck you,” she said as casually as if she were asking me to tea. “You’re such a character.”

I held the phone back and looked disbelievingly at it. “I’m the character?”

“I’m not character material. Bitch, yes. Character, no.”

“You haven’t told me if you like your image in
Ladybugs Rock England
.”

“I do. I wouldn’t buy it if I didn’t like it. In fact, if you didn’t make me look damned good, the painting would be exhibiting in South Dirt Road, Colorado.”

“Where?” I asked.

“Precisely. Enough said. I’m paying full price, too. I didn’t off-price it.”

“That was good of you. What was the price?”

“Two-hundred grand.”

“Do I have to make change?” Would I ever get used to the seemingly excessive price tags on my work?

“I took my fifteen percent off the top. Don’t worry, I’ll make it back if I ever want to sell it. And then some.”

“If? You’d consider selling it?”

“You’re right. I’ll probably have it off the frame and tucked in my casket with me. Until then, I’m putting it in my main living room in my Manhattan penthouse. Not everyone is a fucking Ladybugs Rock mascot. Which reminds me, I booked The Scripted Banquet for our party.”

“Nothing but the best for your Saph buddies.”

“Don’t be late.”

“Fiona, I wouldn’t dream of it.”

I hung up. Because I was in fact running late, I called the jewelers and asked that they deliver the five gold ladybug pins to the hotel. The manager assured me he’d checked the engravings, and the order was exactly to my specification. I jumped in the shower, dressed, and nibbled on a salad I’d ordered. The gold pins arrived, and the manager was right. They looked terrific.

Esther was ready and would drop by my room so we could walk together to the gallery. When she arrived, she gushed over my newest outfit, a pant and jacket set finely tailored in powder blue. She modeled a new apricot-colored, elbow-sleeved cardigan. Matching slacks along with nutmeg accessories gave her a look of perfect autumn style.

She pointed to my shoes. “You could have used a little more of a stacked-heel, but I truly love the outfit. Flattering.”