Appointment with a Smile (27 page)

“You like it because I didn’t pick it out. Bethany shopped for me yesterday while I put the finishing touches on one of the paintings. She has style and class. I’d have bought some dowdy duds that would never have met with your approval.”

“This exceeds expectations. With Bethany around, there’s hope that your frump stage may be a thing of the past. You look wonderful.”

“Thanks, you look wonderful, too. But then you usually do.” I suddenly stopped. “You haven’t mentioned my relationship with Bethany. You aren’t working on me tonight?”

“Nope. Talked with her earlier. She thinks you’re right. You wore her down with your complete indifference and probably all the crap about still loving Molly.”

“She also probably got fed up babysitting me while I painted. See, women don’t want to be left behind by someone so compulsive about art.”

“You’re right, Danielle. Someone else will snap her up. Now that she knows she can fall in love again, she’ll find someone who cares about her.”

I felt a sudden stabbing to my heart. “She didn’t talk with me about this.”

“There’s no reason to. You’ve made your position very clear.”

“I don’t want her doing anything that commits to my life. She was talking about giving up her job, her home, and everything.”

“Why shouldn’t she? She’s eligible for a handsome retirement. She has savings, company stock, nearly free airline service. More than enough money to provide for her upkeep wherever she wants to live. Health care, security, pension, everything she needs. I’m certain she knows the words to our national anthem. And Canada’s. And England’s. She’s flexible with the world.”

“Money isn’t a problem. I could provide for her, and I would.”

“With the recent surge in your income, you might feel as though her stash can’t compare to yours. You might suspect that she hasn’t paid the price of being by your side when things were slim picking. Well, consider this. She spent two decades of her life backing a singer who was just on the edge of becoming a great opera star. Bethany didn’t waver. She paid the price to the arts. She’s an honest human being.”

“I know she’s not after my money or notoriety, Esther. I’ve never believed she was.”

“Of course not. When you met her two weeks ago, her bank account was undoubtedly far more substantial than yours. Your retirement fund was nonexistent, bank account slim pickings. If you recall, you were hard-pressed to scrape enough together to get your poor old car’s radiator fixed last month. You were happy to get fifteen grand on a sale in Albuquerque. That was the state of your fortune when she met you. She didn’t set out to profit from your sudden, meteoritic rise in capital. Or celebrity.”

“That’s not it at all. I don’t care what she has or doesn’t have. I’m falling in love with her. But I’m frightened…” I started crying. “Oh, hell, my makeup’s going to run.”

“It can use a brushup anyway. Danielle, what are you really so terrified about?”

“Being left behind,” I finally confessed. I went to the dresser mirror and spread a quick layer of makeup around my eyes. “I know it isn’t rational, but I expect everyone to run out on me now.”

She took me in her arms. “The only running Bethany does is when she’s in training. She would never run from you. The question is, will you be there for her.”

I grabbed my handbag, stuffed the jeweler’s sack inside, and turned back to Esther. “Until I’m sure, I won’t consider anything permanent.”

“Nothing in life is permanent. You should know that by now. Let’s go. Fiona will flay your bum if we’re late.”

We took the elevator down and walked out onto the street. “What does Bethany see in me?”

“I haven’t got a clue as to what any woman would see in you,” she said dramatically. “You’re an abysmal disappointment to me. Buzzards have been circling your sex life for years. Not only have you hidden out, but women weren’t exactly stampeding to you. Finally, you meet the perfect woman, and you disconnect. You’re a damned black hole of neediness. You’re this accretion disk that exhausts people. Especially women. Particularly me.”

“Sorry for burdening your life,” I said sarcastically.

“Danielle, you’re burdening your own life. Repeatedly, you’ve told me your grandfather’s saying about tough times. That if you take a hit, get back on your feet, make a fist at life, and then go on.”

“I remember. I’d nearly forgotten.”

“Listen, I want an answer. Are you in love with her?”

“I’ve told you. I do love her. I’m just scared.”

“Sweet cakes, you better put on those big girl panties and grow up. For whatever reason, she loves you. She doesn’t need you or your fortune.”

“I do care for her.”

“You are the most insecure ingrate I’ve ever met. Care for her? Days have dwindled down to almost the time of our departure while you sit on your pity pot. Now we’re down to a day. Our plane leaves tomorrow morning, and you’ve run her off.”

“It’s better if she leaves me now than it would be later after we lived together.”

“It isn’t like you, Danielle. You’re being cruel. One of my exes used to say that it’s nice to be important but more important to be nice.”

“Was that because you weren’t being nice?”

She glared at me. “You are best in small doses.”

“And you’re bitchy in large doses!” I reached for the gallery’s door handle. We entered, and I studied the crowded room. The final closing party Fiona and Max had planned with patrons, art critics, and media, was in full swing. “I don’t see Bethany.”

“She’s probably come to her senses and is doing something incredibly important with her life. Like watching BBC.” Her dour expression changed. “Ah, but I see my sweet little crumpet.”

Esther walked toward Carrie. I went back outside to fill my lungs with air. I’d never experienced claustrophobia before. I never knew how uncomfortable it was to be alone in a throng of people. Emotions were an extension of us. We were all balled up in our own hemisphere, and we struggled. If not dashing toward a cluster of fellow human beings, we were making attempts to extricate ourselves from society. Not much of it was rational. In two weeks, I had spent the most irrational, profoundly painful, and upliftingly joyous moments of my life.

Outside I breathed deeply. I glanced at the gallery front with fancy scripted placards resting on easels that announced my work. My offering to humanity. Me. Well, that was another question. I may well have been affiliated with those canvases that were smeared with paint and my heart. But me?

Touching the large placard, I felt the inked ridges of my name. Maybe an important part of life was the self-discovery of knowing we might one day find our true selves. Locating the
me
in each of us was revelatory. As important, was finding the others in
me
. I suddenly balled my hand into a fist, raised it up, and gave it a couple of whirls.

Chapter 50

Upon reentering the gallery, I spied Fiona.

“You’re actually on time,” she said as she took my arm.

She introduced me to what seemed like hundreds of people. I maintained a degree of pleasantry. I glanced in each direction as we walked. Pieces of conversations penetrated my mind. One critic told me I caught emotional flashes in my paintings that he’d never seen before. Another said my work resonated.

When finally alone with Fiona a moment, I asked, “What the hell are they talking about?”

“You. Unlike the people who know you, they think you’re terrific.”

“You’ve been talking with Esther again, haven’t you?”

“Yes. To quote her, you’re impossible. Carrie is more generous. She says you’re causing everyone a great deal of agro by being a sarky bitch.”

“Have you seen Bethany?”

“I’ve seen her. Just not tonight. But I don’t think you’ve ever really seen her, Danielle. Funny, because you paint her beautiful soul with such authenticity. Within
Bethany’s Smile
, it seems apparent you understand her integrity and love for you.” She shrugged. “Guess not. I’ve always maintained you’re a crazy Saph. Now more than ever.”

“Have we sold any paintings?” I tried changing the subject to Fiona’s favorite topic.

“Amazingly, almost all of the new ones are gone. Samantha phoned earlier and purchased
Perpetual Smile
and three of your earlier paintings: one of the herbs growing in pots on a balcony terrace; a scene of snow with cross-country skiers; and another of a little boy seated on his tricycle. Said it reminded her of her younger son.”

“I’ve never seen her younger son. The child I painted is my neighbor. He’s in high school now.”

“She saw it on the gallery’s Internet page. Loved it. By the way, she said to tell you good luck with the show. She also said to tell you she’ll be in contact later in the week, after you’ve returned to Colorado.”

“I owe Samantha and her husband a great deal. I’d like to do a formal painting of Samantha and her family. Before you ask, yes, without charge. Maybe she could phone photo me a picture of them all together. I could take the painting to them when I attend Molly’s service.”

“They haven’t set a date?”

“I’m thinking that’s probably what she wanted to talk with me about.” Again, I pivoted around. “What else sold?”

“All of Bethany’s portraits sold, and some fool bought the one of those stupid bison.”

“Who purchased them?”

“I haven’t a clue. Probably a Buffalo Bill descendent. Max informed me when I got here that they’d sold. Investors are buying anything with an O’Hara signature, even ridiculous toy bison.”

“They aren’t ridiculous.” I searched the gallery again. “I wonder what’s keeping Bethany.”

“I’m guessing what’s keeping Bethany away is a crazy Saph artist. I mostly use the word ‘fool’ as a habit. But in your case, I truly mean it. You are a fool. You’ve treated her dreadfully. Esther’s right.”

“I knew Esther had a say in this.”

“It’s not her fault you’re pitching love away with both hands. Esther keeps you stabilized. I couldn’t have handled you the past couple of weeks without her. I’m going to pick up her hotel tab. That woman needs to be put on the payroll to keep you in line.”

“None of this has been easy for me to cope with, Fiona.”

“I know you almost as well as you know yourself. I know you from your art. You’re happy when Bethany’s with you. You’re productive. In my case, I know what’s right for me.” She scanned the room. “See that adorable Italian over there?” I followed her gaze. “He writes for one of the London dailies. He is
so
right for me. He’s here with that scraggy woman over by the wine bar. But he’s taking me to dinner tomorrow night.”

I squinted to get a better look. “Good Lord, he can’t be over twenty-five.”

She smacked my shoulder. “You’re way off. He’s twenty-seven. Slightly young for me. But look at that body.”

“You are one fired up Ladybugs Rock mascot. Or maybe you’ll start a chapter in New York. Call it Cougars Rock.”

“I’m hoping the Italian won’t give me time enough for social groups.” She grinned at me and then in his direction. “It certainly doesn’t hurt his cause that he thinks you’re the new messiah of portraiture, and he does know who Cecilia Beaux is.”

“Imagine a critic actually knowing the name of a well-hidden portraitist.”

“Imagine an intelligent art critic with incredible abs.” Fiona fanned her face. “And those Italians live up to their legacy. He told me I’m very cool.”

“You are, Fiona. You’ve taken me from anonymity in the art world to this. In my eyes, that makes you totally cool.” I looked at my watch. “Only an hour more to go and we can hightail it over to The Scripted Banquet. Have a little Ladybugs Rock festival.”

For the next hour, between chats with patrons and critics, I scoured the room for Bethany. I wondered if she hadn’t arrived because it was over between us. I examined my cell phone. Calls from everyone except Bethany. I’d already left her a half-dozen messages.

“Got a limousine waiting,” Fiona said as we exited. “I’m not trusting a Bentley in Carrie’s hands again.”

Once we arrived and entered The Scripted Banquet, I resumed my search for Bethany. Maybe she had relented and would at least see me to say goodbye. That seemed not to be the case. As wine was served, I glanced over at the empty chair where Bethany should’ve been.

My heart sank.

Halfway through the first glass of wine, I looked up. Bethany was making her way toward the table.

She kissed my cheek. “Sorry. Forgive me for missing your show’s closing. We had a red alert emergency. I was called in, and obviously I couldn’t contact you.” Tears welled in her eyes. “For over twenty-five years, I’ve been living my professional life for the airline. I’ve missed so many of the parts of life I would’ve liked to have experienced. This one was so important, and it was beyond my control. Forgive me?”

I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. “It’s okay, Bethany. I was worried that you were upset with me.”

“No. I’m upset with myself right now. It’s time I stop living my life around my job. It shouldn’t be that way. I wanted so to be here with you.” She straightened her hair. “I must look a wreck.”

“You look wonderful.”

Her eyes were somber. “You’ll hear about it in the news. We had a terrorist threat. Things were extremely tense.”

Esther’s eyes opened wide. “We’re flying out of here in the morning, taking a British Airways 777 out of Heathrow. Was the threat a 777?”

“It was international,” Bethany said. “But now is the safest time to travel. After an incident, security really tightens up. Tomorrow when you board, they’ll probably do a strip search.”

We laughed uproariously. I waited until I could catch my breath. “Come on, Esther, you might like it.”

Carrie poured Bethany some wine. We lifted our glasses. “Ladybugs Rock, forever!” we said together.

Throughout the evening, we chanted our motto. Other patrons often joined in. As dinner ended, I took the engraved ladybug pins from my handbag. After ceremoniously pinning them on each member’s blouse, I raised my glass for a final toast of the evening. “To the London Sisterhood of Ladybugs Rock.”

Bethany’s smile was her first uncomplicated smile of the night. She’d been visibly tense.