Appointment with a Smile (19 page)

“And this randy art agent is also
the
official Ladybugs Rock mascot. A mascot without a man!”

“That being the case,” Carrie said, “let’s get your waiter back. Have him take our photo. Danielle, you have your phone handy. Under the pretext of having him snap a shot of all the Ladybugs Rock members, we’ll ask him to do the honors.”

The waiter was willing to take our group photograph, however unwilling to do additional honors for Fiona.

We again cheered and toasted Fiona. Tapping my wristwatch, I suggested we close down the wonderful party. We all thanked Fiona as she got the staggering bill.

Carrie’s eyebrows shot upward. “You’re going to need some dosh for this evening. No comps here.”

“Not to worry,” Fiona said.

Esther again reminded us that we’d better head back. Because of the late hour, and needing to work in the morning, Bethany had decided to stay at her apartment, along with Carrie and Esther.

Delivered safely, they piled out of the Bentley, and Fiona collapsed in the backseat. “Here you go.” Carrie handed me the keys. “You and Fiona are the last broads standing.” She motioned toward Fiona. “And she’s barely standing.”

“I’ve never driven a car like this.”

“Come on, Danielle, it’s a straight shot back. Fiona’s hotel is only a couple blocks from ours. Park the car in her hotel garage, haul her in, and then either walk, call a cab, or stay over with her.”

Bethany said, “Stay with her. I’m sure her penthouse is big enough for a guest.”

I pouted slightly. “Probably large enough for a fleet of sailors. By the way, where are all the gigolos when we need them?”

I pulled away from the curb as I heard the chanting chorus behind me. “Danielle, don’t forget to drive on the left-hand side. Ladybugs Rock!”

Driving the Bentley was an experience, and I took it very slowly. The trip allowed my humor to return. Once in Fiona’s luxury suite, I got her safely slung across the king-sized bed.

“Thanks so much for the lovely evening.” I tucked a bedspread over her.

“Danielle, I’m so proud of your painting.” Her words slurred as she threw her arms around my neck. “I’m happy you’ll be solvent and even rich soon. I saw how you’ve struggled.”

“I haven’t ever thought of myself struggling. Just sometimes doing without.” I sat on the bed’s edge.

“Now you won’t have to do without much of anything.”

“I feel fortunate. And I’m thankful you’ve been there for me. Promoted me all these years.”

“I knew you had it. Even Spencer knew when he was a little boy.”

I suddenly sat up straight. “You knew Spencer when he was a child?”

Fiona frowned as she reclined against the mountain of pillows. “Well, I can trust you.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “Spencer is my son. I knew I wouldn’t be able to take care of him back then, twenty-five years ago. His father desperately wanted him. He was an art dealer. I declined his proposal of marriage when I was pregnant. He married a woman who couldn’t give birth, and I agreed they could raise Spencer. It was amicable. They adored him. He was always aware I was his biological mother. I saw him on vacations and whenever I was in the upstate New York area. He went to boarding school, university. Then I gave him a job.”

“Spencer is your son.” I was shocked. “But why didn’t you tell anyone? I mean, Spencer’s a wonderful guy.”

“It isn’t that I’m not proud of him. I’m prouder of him than anything else in my life. I wasn’t cut out to be a hands-on mother. Not really. As he grew, well, honestly, I wanted to hold onto my youth. That’s why I get a little work done.” She patted the sides of her face. “Lifts. I want to chase younger men. I’ve never been through with party life. I’m not mom material.” Her voice shook.

“Not everyone is,” I said as I patted her leg. “But you are one hell of an agent.”

“Yeah. I am. I hope you don’t think badly of me because I’m not a proper, traditional mother.”

I gave her a quick hug. “I think you’re the best kind of proper, traditional mother. Proper mothers do what’s best for their child. Spencer obviously admires and respects you.”

She sank into the pillows as her eyelids fluttered shut. She mumbled, “You’re my favorite artist ever. You crazy Saph.”

“Thanks. And you’re my favorite agent, and mascot.” There was a slight smile on my lips as I turned down the light. Then the smile eased into a moment of pain.

It had all turned out, no matter what. For the best. And now I yearned to paint.

As I walked the streets to my hotel, I thought that I might spend some time beginning the self-portrait with Bethany that I’d promised I’d do for her. Planning it as I entered my hotel suite, I heard the telephone ring.

“O’Hara,” I answered.

Bethany’s sweet voice was on the other end of the line. “Any trouble getting back to the hotel?”

“Nope. Fiona was done partying, finally.”

“The English say she was squiffy to begin with and she became sozzled by night’s end. To us, it would be going from tipsy to drunk.”

“I sometimes forget you’re Canadian until you refer to the English.”

“As I always say, Canadians are more like Americans than they are English. My own accents vary. I’ve become more English because when I was a flight attendant, it took up so much time being asked about where I was from. Anyway, tonight was special. Fiona’s special, too.”

“More special than I realized.”

“Please thank her again for a lovely night.”

“I did, and I shall again in the morning. She might not be aware of much tonight. She does enjoy life. Knows how to splurge, that’s for sure.”

“She must have spent an enormous amount.”

“Fiona is generous. But more than that, she’s always been there to encourage me. Over the years, our friendship has grown. Anyway, I think the world of her.”

After a slight pause, Bethany said, “I miss you, Danielle. I should have returned to the hotel with you.”

“I’ll be busy painting the self-portrait with you included. I thought I could use the photo on my phone. The one Carrie snapped of us. I’d like it to be of the two of us. I thought I might paint the portraiture from that image.”

“You truly are going to paint us together?” She sounded surprised but pleased.

“I thought it would be nice.”

“It would be magnificent to be with you. In any context—painting, photo, or real life.”

“I’ll start on it immediately.”

Before we hung up, I found it difficult not to tell her I loved her. Holiday romances tended to connote triviality, and my feelings for Bethany were anything but trivial. But the truth was we were an enormous pond apart. Half a globe apart, actually.

As I set up my paints, I tried to come to terms with the evening. I lifted my brush and daubed it into a small mound of paint. I’d selected a fresco liner brush. It would work for the delicate outline I wished to paint. I truly didn’t want this painting to be an inert image.

Chapter 34

After sleeping for a couple of early morning hours, I was awakened by a troublesome and absurd dream about being colorblind. As I unwound my tired limbs, I gazed across the room to examine what I’d placed on the canvas throughout the night. Or more precisely, early morning. I had selected the remaining small canvas. Upon a 24x36 space, I’d dabbled paint in all the correct places, but it still needed a great deal of work.

As the morning progressed, I became more and more emotionally conflicted. I had waited thirty years to hear Molly say she still loved me. My deepest emotional response was to call her. I wanted to hear her voice. I wanted to hold her in my arms. I wanted to believe she still was in love with me. The euphoric moment seemed perilous. There were her words, and then there was her hasty retreat.

Knowing Molly as I had, I also saw a flicker of fear in her eyes. I speculated it might only be that she was uneasy seeing me. Anxiety was a form of fear. I wished I could’ve made her laugh, smile. I wished I could’ve interpreted her better during our luncheon.

Amazed, I contemplated how we misrepresented, mispronounced, and even failed to accurately visualize the past. We often enhanced memories and perhaps just as often corrupted them.

Youth, however, was bulletproof. We became youth with uncertainty, a bit of mirth, and whimsy. Perhaps there was nowhere else to hide. So we became indomitable youth. Striving for conviction, knowledge, and confidence, as we began to learn love. Love, the most elusive of enigmas, came at us like a rushing torrent.

Early adulthood was a reckoning time. We groveled for love. We strutted with the glory of love, and we staggered with its burden. When love appeared, we treated it with as much of ourselves as it seemed to require. We sometimes got it right. Often got it wrong. When it went out from under us, we peered into oracles of tomorrow.

I believed in my own prophesies of being able to one day resurrect lost love. Engendered memories chased me throughout the morning. One thing youth hadn’t taught me was to inspect my own presumptions more carefully.

When the telephone rang, I was glad it was Fiona’s raspy morning-after voice.

“And how is our semi-Saph, Colorado lovin’, Ladybugs Rock mascot this morning?” I asked with a chipper voice.

She laughed her familiar aria. “Damn that was fun.”

“Thanks again for the great time.”

“They could have charged a hundred times what I paid for all those laughs.”

“How’s your head?”

“Sore. Carrie promised I’d have a wonky brain today. And I do. But my only regret is that I didn’t find some young stud.”

“As I was driving that magnificent car, I wished you’d found a guy to lay you, Fiona. I’d have had a chauffeur, and you’d have had an orgasm.”

“Are we going to be a Saph bitch today?”

“I work on being a Ladybugs Rock, Saph bitch every day,” I teased.

“Are you sure being a mascot is more special than being a member?” she asked with a note of skepticism.

“I am. We have at least a couple dozen members, and you’re our only mascot.”

“Okay, I like the thought. On to more important matters. When am I going to see all of your last paintings?”

“You can come by anytime to see them. I’m also working on one of Bethany and myself together. I just started it. But, I warn you. I’ve promised it to Bethany. Let’s call it a modeling fee.”

“Modeling fee, my ass. Or I guess hers.” Fiona’s hangover obviously hadn’t dulled her sharp tongue.

“Be that as it may, she’s been promised it. But you can take a gander at the others I’ve finished.”

“I loved the good old days when you’d rush the canvases to me and beg me to sell them for you. Maybe you could snag that adorable Bethany and take her back to Colorado as a full-time model.”

“We do live on different continents. I’m on her turf.”

“That’s it? That’s all that’s stopping you?” The seconds of silence must have made her realize she’d hit a nerve. “You’re uncertain about Molly? Right?”

“I’m uncertain about what to order for breakfast.”

“Leave it any longer and you’ll need to order lunch. Let me give you a bit of advice. After all, my fifteen percent should include helping you hike up those bootstraps. Okay. First, order a deluxe, giant-sized breakfast. Second, call Molly and tell her if she’s really in love with you, she’ll come back to Denver with you. Third, beg Bethany to fly back to your home with you.”

“Suppose they both agree?”

“You should be so lucky. Or as they say here, you should be such a jammy Saph.”

“Fiona, are you planning on coming up to see the paintings any time soon?”

“If you call soon ‘immediately,’ then yes. I’ll be there within the half hour. Order me toast, scrambled eggs, and tea. That ought to do it for hangover food. Tell them no greasy fry-up meal. These limeys can truly fuck up food.” With a huge sigh, she added, “But the Americans can truly fuck up a rock fight.”

“I think I’ll just put in our order. I’m not giving any food reviews.”

“See what I mean. You are a crazy Saph.”

“You really should have found a good man last night.”

“I would have settled for a bad one, young enough to be trained.”

“What’s the word I’m searching for?” I paused. “Oh yes, now I remember. Nymphomaniac.”

She roared. “That’s the word. I’m the cougar poster child.”

“Well, you’re a damned fine one.”

“I’ll be right up.”

She hadn’t mentioned last night’s disclosure about Spencer. And as long as I lived, I would never reveal it.

Chapter 35

Fiona left after breakfast, leaving me to paint for a few hours. When I finally looked at my watch, I saw it was way past lunchtime. I made plans to meet Esther in the lobby for a walk over to Lindsay’s Tea House.

Esther ordered a midafternoon treat of a Maid of Honour tartlet. She made a brief reference to last night’s extravaganza and the five little tartlets out on the town. I settled for a good cupper of English breakfast tea and a salmon with cucumber sandwich.

“What a night,” I said.

“Fiona is some hostess. The wine cellar alone got a good tweak last night.”

“Fiona was too drunk to scout a toy boy.”

Esther grunted. “I hope she’s careful with her selections and her protection. She was too smashed to light her cigarette, much less do a rubber wrap on a stud’s whacker.”

“She told me once that she’s careful. But I’m not the condom cop, so I stay out of it. She smokes and drinks too much. Risky behavior wouldn’t amaze me.”

“She enjoys the bucks and bounty of her success.”

“She’s trying to coerce me into putting all my new work in the exhibit.”

“And?”

“I promised Bethany a painting. I’m working on it now. It’s of both of us. And I would love to keep the one of Bethany with her smile.”

“Fiona will end up agreeing with your decision. She’ll get some concession from you. Maybe rush another one from you.”

“Yes, but she’ll have to wait. I’m working on the small portrait of Bethany and me first. Fiona probably expects me to stop painting the gift and complete some salable work.”

“You could knock out a couple of foggy London landscapes in an hour,” Esther said.