Authors: Dayna Rubin
Chapter Two
A Subtle Progression of Hues
Natanya found herself walking into the nearby Starbucks, delaying her entrance to work after disembarking from Metro.
Upon entering, she had observed people drinking coffee, reading newspapers, and chatting together nicely. Their bright smiles and cheerful music amplified her nervous state instead of calming it.
“It’s Natanya, right?” Natanya jumped as she heard her name called out from across the café and suddenly she knew she had made the right choice. Her face had become flushed and she had been dizzy contemplating what she had been about to do.
“Yes, I’m sorry, I’m having a hard time placing you….”
“Oh, right, I live across from you…well, not directly across from you, but the building on the opposite side of the courtyard. I see you with your easel…painting sometimes…it is Natanya…isn’t it?” She finished awkwardly. “That’s a really unusual name. I don’t think I’ve ever heard it before.”
“Yeah…it’s from a town in Israel,” Natanya said, taken briefly off guard. “My Grandmother on my Dad’s side was Jewish, and she had insisted my Dad name her first Granddaughter Natanya, which was me, after Nathan Straus. He was part of the family of Macys, and had donated two-thirds of his income to helping the Jewish people, who in turn created a town called Natanya in his honor…” Natanya narrowed her eyes as she continued, “So you know Philippe, then?”
“Yeah…I know him…” The attractive young women glanced furtively back at her friends sitting at their table.
“Where do you know Philippe from?” Natanya’s voice dropped to a whisper as she felt the familiar tightening of her throat.
“From the apartment complex…I seem to run into him frequently.” She left the sentence hanging in the air, enveloped in its own bubble, ready for Natanya to burst and delve into her deeper meaning. “Philippe says that you like to paint by the bedroom window because it affords you the best light.”
“Yeah…um, that’s right…” Natanya’s words trailed off as she tried to imagine what she could have seen.
“I’m Lilly by the way.”
Natanya’s eyes inadvertently shifted to the people surrounding both of them as she wondered how many others had seen her painting at the window. A flush slowly crept upwards from her neck to nestle comfortably on her cheeks where it intended to take up residence for a while.
“Lilly, it is so nice to meet you, but I’ve really got to run as I am already late for work.”
“Yeah, nice to meet you too, but weren’t you going to order coffee?” Lilly asked.
“Right, coffee…that’s what I want to do is uh, order coffee, you’re absolutely right. So, I’m going to order coffee, and then I’m going to go. I’m going to go to work, my work. Across the street. Yup, okay, well it was really nice meeting you.” Natanya finished awkwardly, letting her long dark hair fall over her face as she dug into in her purse for her wallet.
When Natanya dared to look up again, she saw Lilly’s bewildered and somewhat annoyed face. Natanya quickly made her way to the counter, standing in line with a group of others as she waited to order her coffee. She glanced up again, locating Lilly who had reseated herself at a table where she resumed her conversation with her friends.
Natanya placed her order, and then took up her position with the others at the next counter to wait for her coffee. She exhaled in long slow breaths, until she began to feel calmer and feel the heat recede from her face and neck.
As she waited, she thought about Lilly’s comments, the first being the most important, the one about Lilly continually running into her boyfriend was tossed aside, as he was a consummate flirt, and made most women feel they were the only one standing in the room. She was used to that, but the first comment, now that one was important.
“Caramel Macchiato with soy milk,” called out the Starbucks barista.
“That’s me, mine, I mean, that’s my coffee.” Natanya inched her way forward through the crowded café to pick up her drink and then turned sideways to make her way out, holding her coffee up above her head, she broke free of the crowd, finding herself on the street looking out onto the conservatory building.
Natanya took a moment to regain her composure while she waiting for the crosswalk signal.
There was no harm done…all she would have seen was me painting, that’s what I do. I am a restorer, and I paint. So Lilly saw me painting…it could be anything. I could have been painting anything…with gloves on…which would inhibit fingerprints, but it could be deemed as normal…people do that…paint with gloves on…for the sake of neatness.
Natanya crossed the street and entered the building, fumbled a bit before finding her identification hanging within the folds of her raincoat, then showed it quickly to the security personnel at the podium stationed squarely in front of the group of elevators, which only stopped on their floors. She was quickly waved on.
Natanya breathed easier once she found herself alone in the elevator. The upward momentum of the elevator threw her off balance, but she regained her footing, adopting the serious countenance that exemplified the employees of Signature Art Conservatory.
The elevator doors slid open, smooth and soundless in their efficiency, the silence interrupted by the gentle ring of the bell alerting her she had reached her floor.
“Geoffrey, where do you buy your uniforms, because, this one your wearing, is obviously way too big.” Natanya greeted the security guard positioned to the right of the elevators with a warm smile.
Raising his finger to his lips, Geoffrey shushed her, and then maneuvered her to the cubicle he shared with the other security guard, and sat her down on the stool.
“I heard there is going to be a huge celebration lunch today, so, here’s what’s going to happen, I’m going to show you how to guard the castle so we can switch off during lunch. I’m not missing out on this one; it’s supposed to be a pretty big deal. Catered and everything.” Geoffrey lowered his voice and whispered, “I even heard the acquisitions inspector is coming back today for the event.” Geoffrey nodded as though he was a co-conspirator.
“Geoffrey, as much as I would like to help you out, you know we can’t do that!” Natanya protested, her laughter ringing out into the entry hall.
“Okay, seriously, are you still dating that guy…what’s his name, I think it sounds like a gas station…Route 66…?”
“Yes, I’m still dating Philippe Rousseau, and now I have to go in, but I’ll bring you some cake, I promise.” Natanya stood to go, but Geoffrey blocked her way.
Natanya stepped around him, just as the receiver Geoffrey wore around his waist beeped.
“Geoff, this is getting old, you need to wash your own uniforms, now I’m going to be late because you took mine and…” The voice coming from his receiver faded as Geoffrey adjusted the volume, resuming his conversation with Natanya.
Leaning against the frame of the window within the cubicle, Geoffrey pulled a card from the inside pocket of his jacket and sailed it over to Natanya.
Natanya bent to pick it up off the floor, laughing aloud she said, “Now you guys have cards! Really, wow, that’s amazing.”
“Yup, and I’m here for ya, just call that number, the private number on the back of the card.” Geoffrey flipped his hands around, indicating she should do the same to the card.
“Right. Bye Geoffrey…” Natanya waved to him over her shoulder as she entered the double doors of Signature, without looking back.
Chapter Three
Disclosed Canvas Affinities
Philippe watched Natanya leave, observed she had chosen to wear the raincoat, as he had suggested. He had felt it was the best option for smuggling in the painting; a conclusion they had arrived at during their many rehearsals.
Something nagged at him, as he watched her. It was the way she walked, letting the coat fly open with the wind, mindless to the other pedestrians.
If they were to catch a glimpse
…
“Damn it! She didn’t do it!” Philippe exclaimed aloud as he sipped his coffee where he viewed her from the window of the dry cleaner. Philippe tossed the nearly full cup of coffee into the garbage can as he continued to watch Natanya walk down the street.
I need to be sure…
“Ah, you not wanna pick up your stuff?” Mrs. Hee of Hee’s Dry Cleaners called out to Philippe as he stormed out the glass door, the bell clanking against the glass with the velocity of his movements.
Philippe took long full strides as he walked back to their apartment building. Not bothering to acknowledge the door attendant, he passed through the lobby, pushed his way past the elderly women chatting in front of the mail center; he slammed his hand onto the elevator button.
A few members of the group turned to look at him in his apparent rage, and shifted their conversations to talk about him instead.
The elevator finally arrived, Philippe stopped himself from yelling out expletives as people languished in front of the doors, blocking his entrance, then mumbled his apologies as he pushed past them until he was finally inside the elevator.
Just as the doors were about to close, one of the elderly women, who had come down to retrieve her mail, positioned her bag in between the doors to enter.
Sighing and cursing under his breath, Philippe opened the doors for her, and asked her, in a pleasant voice, “Good morning, which floor would you like to go to?”
“Oh my, such a gentlemen. Well, if you could press the button for the tenth floor, I would appreciate it. I don’t think I could manage, seeing as I have my hands full. My husband and I just returned from our cruise, and my heavens, we have received a lot of mail.”
“No problem…Mrs. Orbis, I believe, isn’t it?” Philippe’s rich vibrato wooed the weak and the strong alike, rivaling the voice of any disc jockey, with its smooth timber.
“Yes, it is, and how do I know you young man?”
“I met you during the tenant review regarding the roof top changes for the building, I believe.”
Of course, that’s where I know you. You and that charming girl live together, is that right?” Mrs. Orbis didn’t wait for him to respond, “You both suit one another perfectly. I’ve always said that the couples who are similar in looks are similar in views. Take Mr. Orbis for example…”
“Well, I uh, hate to cut you short, but it looks like this is your floor Mrs. Orbis. Can I help you with your mail, or do you need me to walk you to your door?” Philippe flashed a smile at Mrs. Orbis.
“Oh, really? To my door? No, I don’t think I’ll need you to do that, but it was so nice of you to ask. You’re such a sweet young man,” Mrs. Orbis replied, leaning on her cane as she shuffled out of the elevator.
Philippe continued to hold the doors open for her, as she suddenly appeared flustered and unsure of herself. “I believe your apartment is on your right.”
“Yes, yes it is, gracious me, how could I be so forgetful. Have a nice day.”
Philippe let the doors close once again, the tension returning to his face as he waited for the elevator to reach their floor.
Without waiting for the doors to open fully, Philippe sprinted through them and down the hall until he reached their door. He unlocked the door and began darting about the apartment, looking for the painting. He deduced that it was probably still rolled up, as they had accomplished this part of the plan together last night.
What would she do if she were ready to walk out the door with it, but then changed her mind.
“Hmmm,” Philippe placed his hand to his chin as stopped in the center of the vestibule trying to decipher Natanya’s last movements prior to leaving the apartment.
He walked to the closet positioned in the hall off the living room, and mimicked her selecting her coat. He checked the interior of the closet, not finding anything.
Leaving the closet door open, he turned toward the front door as though he were Natanya. “No, I don’t want to take the painting so I would put it…I would put it…Jesus, Natanya, where the Hell did you put it?”
Philippe suddenly stalled, not knowing where to look next, putting his hand to his forehand and the other on his hip, he randomly gazed across the marble entryway to the door. The coat rack had a light sweater hanging from it that she wore yesterday, and the umbrella stand was next to it.
“I would put it in the umbrella stand because I would have wasted so much time deciding whether to bring it with me, I would be late for work and I couldn’t put it back.” Philippe reached in and grabbed the rolled up painting from the umbrella stand.
“Yes, Natanya, I do know you so well…” Philippe reached for the handle of the front door, but paused as he contemplated how he would transport the painting. With his slim build in black slacks and raw silk, short-sleeve black shirt, he would not be able to conceal the painting. Unless he put on
his
raincoat in order to conceal it, but then…it was warm out and that would be suspicious. He realized, he really didn’t need to hide it, and in a split second, he worked through the entire plan as he continued toward the front door.
Not wasting any time, Philippe placed a call to his contact and arranged to meet him. “It’s in play; bring the frame, yes at the Fountain of DuPont Circle. Not later,” Philippe said in response, “Now. It’s happening now!” He ended the call abruptly, his teeth clenched as he recalled the endless practice sessions he had reviewed with Natanya.
“We’re not going to screw this up, Nat.” Philippe said aloud as he pushed the elevator button. He ran a hand through his dark hair as he waited for the elevator, thinking about how long he had waited for this opportunity, and now it was within his reach, but not quite within his grasp.