Champagne Deception (14 page)

“I know, you are very even-tempered.  That’s why I want to know what he said to make you so---“

“Please Coretta!  Like I said before, let’s move on with the day.  We need to start arranging your paintings in the display windows.”

Sighing heavily, she finally acquiesced.  The amount of work that needed to be completed before the opening reception was daunting.  She led Lorenzo to the side wall where her paintings were neatly stacked and wrapped in bubble plastic.

“We do have our work cut out for us,” she admitted as he lifted one of the larger paintings and carried it over to the front windows.

Scanning the perimeter of the property, he saw that Declan had left.  His blood pressure slowly returning to normal, Lorenzo carefully unwrapped the painting and held it up in the light.  It was his favorite painting of Coretta’s, the one she had emailed him of the lady gathering tulips.

“I think it’s serendipity that I unwrapped this one first,” he commented, smiling.

She returned the smile eagerly.  “Yes, you told me how much you like that one when we were emailing.”

“It’s a masterpiece.  Let’s put it front and center here.  What do you think?”

She nodded her assent as she slipped the bubble wrap off another pastel painting depicting a couple kissing in a wooded area.  Lorenzo smiled in approval at each canvas she unveiled.  Together, they arranged the paintings in the front windows until there was just enough space left for one or two of his sculptures.  Lorenzo disappeared into the cellar to retrieve two small sculptures to place next to her paintings.  When the display was finished, the room was dark as their artwork completely obscured sunlight from penetrating the gallery.

“Is it too much?  Too crowded?” She questioned uncertainly.

“All the artwork does cover the window space and make it a little dark,” he admitted.  “Let’s go look at it from the outside.”

He took her hand and stepped into the sunlight to view their combined creations.  They exchanged a look of delight at how seamlessly their work blended together.  His elegant clay molds in masculine shades complemented her soft paintings in feminine colors.  A perfect yin and yang of artwork.

“It’s not too much,” she grinned, planting a spontaneous kiss on his lips.

As they made their way back inside, a middle aged couple walked by the gallery and stopped, enchanted.  Lorenzo and Coretta paused at the doorway as the couple approached them.

“
Buon giorno, Lorenzo! Come stai
?” The man extended his hand for a hearty handshake.

“
Molto bene, grazie
!” Lorenzo replied, turning to Coretta and explaining, “This is Mario and his wife, Graziana.  They’ve been clients of mine since I first started my studio.”  He turned to the amiable couple and said, “Mario and Graziana, this is Coretta Nicholas.  We’re opening this gallery together.”

After a round of friendly handshakes, Mario spoke up.  “Did you start painting, Lorenzo?  Or are these Coretta’s paintings?”

“I can’t take credit for any of them.  They’re all Coretta’s,” Lorenzo said proudly as Coretta beamed.

“They’re fantastic,” Graziana marveled.  “May we have a look inside?”

“Yes, absolutely!  It’s kind of a mess right now, though.  We haven’t had our official grand opening.  But I hope you’ll be our guests for a reception on May 1
st
,” Lorenzo explained, opening the doors for the couple.

The foursome walked into the gallery as Mario let out a low whistle.  “What a space you’ve got here!  You’ve come a long way since that barnyard studio.”

Lorenzo looked down, momentarily embarrassed.  “I still do my work from that ‘barnyard studio.’  But thank you.  We’re very excited about this.”

“You should be!” Graziana enthused.  “Mario, we’re going to have to tell all our fr
iends about this gallery.  May 1
st
you said?  We’ll be there.”

After a few minutes of small talk, Lorenzo and Coretta escorted the couple outside, promising to meet them for c
appuccino sometime soon.  Back inside the gallery, Coretta threw herself into Lorenzo’s arms, overjoyed by the glowing feedback from the couple.

“Lorenzo, they loved my paintings! 
To be honest, I thought that idea of yours that people will be bidding on my work was crazy.  But maybe it’s not so crazy after all.”

“It’s definitely not crazy. 
And let me tell you, that couple has money to spend on art.  Mario is one of the top neurologists in Italy, and Graziana is a biology professor.  They’ve bought no less than a dozen of my sculptures over the years---and for top prices.  And their friends are art collectors too,” Lorenzo revealed as Coretta resisted the girlish impulse to jump up and down.

“Oh, this is unbelievable!  I’m getting really excited now!” Coretta squealed as he laughed, infusing the moment with a passionate kiss.

They spent the rest of the morning fixing up the gallery, hanging paintings, and booking a caterer for the upcoming reception.  Around 2 o’clock, they finally indulged in a lunch break.

“Let’s get out of here for a few hours.  I want to show you my favorite little lunch spot in Milan,” Lorenzo suggested.

Coretta stifled a yawn and nodded.  All the work was finally catching up to her, and she felt more like napping than gallivanting around the city.  But she had been so isolated since her arrival in Italy, and she needed to get out a little.  The friendly conversation with Mario and Graziana made her realize how lonely she had been other than for Lorenzo’s sporadic company.  She hoped he wouldn’t go on any more extended trips.  Either way, she would have to make some friends to blend into the local culture.

They
zipped across town to Milan’s posh fashion district.  He parked the bike and linked arms with Coretta, guiding her onto the sidewalk to do a little window shopping before lunch.  Every storefront they passed displayed alluring clothes, jewelry, and accessories.  Enticing arrangements of designer sunglasses and purses tantalized her from the windows.  Coretta had never been able to do much shopping on her hourly wage at the craft store.  And Jonathan rarely bought her any special gifts.  Even for her birthday, he usually bought her something that he wanted for himself, like a pair of tickets to a hockey game.

“I forgot how many clothing boutiques Milan has,” she mused, trying not to salivate over the chic designs.

“Too many,” Lorenzo grumbled.  “Fashion is not my type of art.”

She grinned at him, taking note of his muted khakis and tee-shirt.  He always dressed in such plain clothes
yet looked more ravishingly sexy than any man would in a custom-made suit.  She was glad he wasn’t a “metrosexual” like so many men seemed to be these days.  His rugged, clean-cut good looks were more than pleasing to her.

As they passed a dress shop window featuring a rainbow of garments, Coretta
couldn’t resist pausing and staring.  Three impossibly tall and skinny mannequins modeled a trio of cocktail dresses.  Coretta’s eyes rested on the middle mannequin that was draped in a saucy red cocktail dress.  Usually at home in baby pinks and blues, Coretta thought the scarlet number would make a bold choice for their gallery début.

“Do you want to go inside and try on some dresses?” Lorenzo asked obligingly.

“No, we’re about to have lunch.  It’s okay.  You don’t want to go clothes shopping on our lunch break,” she said, hoping he would disagree and humor her.

“Let’s go inside.  I think that red dress would look spectacular on you.” He opened the door to the dress shop as her face lit up.

“That’s the one I was looking at,” she giggled.

A snooty saleswoman accosted them immediately.  “How may I serve you?”

Shyly, Coretta pointed to the red dress in the display window.  “I would like to try on that dress, please.”

The willowy
sales woman appraised Coretta from head to toe before declaring, “You’re a size 8 in American measurements, right?”

“Yes, how did you know?”

“It’s my job,” she said haughtily while pulling a size 8 off the rack.  “The dressing room is in the back.”

“Thank you,” Coretta said, taking the dress and whispering to Lorenzo, “I’ll only be a minute.”

“Take your time.  Just make sure I get to see you in that hot little thing.” He winked, taking a seat outside the dressing room.

Coretta quickly undressed and slipped into the spaghetti strap dress that was even redder than Lorenzo’s Vespa.  “Fire engine red,” she whispered to herself.  “Does anyone wear that color anymore?”

Well, now I do
, she thought, twirling around in front of the mirror and feeling radiant.  With an infusion of confidence, she opened the door and sauntered outside to show Lorenzo.  Genuinely looking as though his eyes would pop out of his head, he was initially speechless, then whistled, then stammered, “W-w-wow!”

“You like it?” She asked pointlessly as the answer was etched boldly across his face.

“You are beautiful.  Red is your color, Coretta.” He stood up and caressed her hair.  “Such a stark contrast to your coloring.  One day, you will have to pose for me.  I want to sculpt you.”

“In a red dress?”

“No, nude, of course,” he answered huskily.  “Do we really need to eat lunch now?  Maybe we should just go back to the house…”

Coretta smiled, flattered by his passion for her.  Absently, she grabbed the price tag on the dress and looked at it for the first time.  Now
her
eyes were about to pop out of her head.  She knew the dress wouldn’t be cheap, but this price was just obscene.  A quick currency conversion in her head told her the dress would cost nearly 900 American dollars.  She doubted if her entire bargain store wardrobe were worth that much.

Dismayed, she
told Lorenzo, “This dress is way out of my price range.  Let me go get dressed---“

“I’m buying the dress for you, Coretta,” he said firmly.

“No you’re not!  Look at the price.” She flipped the tag for him to see.

His face betrayed no reaction.  “This is Milan.  Clothes are expensive here.  But that dress on you is worth the price.”

She squirmed in place, torn between accepting his generous offer and refusing in order to preserve her pride.  Maybe if she charged the dress between two credit cards she could afford it…no, her credit was shot.  Plain and simple, she couldn’t have the dress.  She turned to go back into the dressing room as Lorenzo called after her, “I’m buying that dress for you!  You know it’s perfect for the opening reception.”

She didn’t respond but emerged from the dressing room a few moments later with the dress draped
carelessly across her arm.  “Where’s the rack this came from?”

“Coretta, do you know that it’s offensive in Italy not to accept a gift that is offered?” Lorenzo challenged.

He clearly wasn’t going to let this go.  And what was the big deal anyway?  She was too negatively conditioned from her relationship with Jonathan.  The dress certainly wouldn’t be breaking Lorenzo’s bank, and he
wanted
to buy it for her.  Resolutely, she kissed him on the cheek and said, “Well, then, I accept your gift.  Thank you.”

Grinning, Loren
zo led her to the cash register.  The saleswoman’s chilly temperament rose a notch to lukewarm as she rang up the item.  Coretta couldn’t help smiling as the clerk hung up the dress and lay it inside a plastic bag so it wouldn’t wrinkle.  This was the first genuine item of
couture
she had ever owned, and it was even more exciting that the dress was a gift from her handsome Italian lover.

A few paces down the street, Lorenzo pointed out a
trattoria
with red and white checkered tablecloths set up for outdoor dining.  “Here it is.  My favorite sandwich shop.  They make the thickest panini you’ve ever had.  Every variety too.  Mozzarella, red pepper, artichoke, you name it.”

“Good because I’m starved!” Coretta
enthusiastically dove into the menu while Lorenzo excused himself to go to the restroom.

Quickly, she selected a spicy eggplant panini and set the menu down.  Waiting for Lorenzo to get back, she doodled their names on a paper napkin.
 
Lorenzo & Coretta Fiatt
i
.  Feeling like a lovesick schoolgirl, she doodle
d
Signora Fiatt
i
. 
No, not
that
Signora Fiatti
, she thought, giggling. 
La nuova
, brand ne
w
Signora Coretta Fiatt
i
.
 
Lorenzo & Corett
a
.
 
LoC
o
.

LoCo?  The combination of
their names struck Coretta as she slipped the napkin into her purse when she saw Lorenzo returning to the table.  “I think I just found a name for our gallery,” she announced as he sat down across from her and took a sip of ice water.

“Great!  What is it?”

“LoCo.”

“Huh?” Lorenzo looked dumbfounded.