Appointment with a Smile (15 page)

“Esther,” I said, “I might not be a scholar, but have you got your facts right on this one?”

“Of course I’m right.”

“I’m not so sure,” I told her.

“You know I’ll go to my computer tonight and pull it up for you. Sometimes, Danielle, I think you’re one brain cell short of a chunk of granite.”

Carrie jumped in. “Come on, Esther. Bacteria crap on Jupiter’s moon? Now that’s bizarre. I never heard it on the news. Bog-trotting bacteria.”

As we chuckled, Bethany tried to help Esther. “It’s possible. She sounds very convincing.”

Carrie elbowed Esther. “I think she’s just fresh out of nonsense and made it up.”

“Made it up?” I asked. “Wait a minute, she couldn’t have. She’s a scientist. There’s not an ounce of make-believe in her. Maybe she’s exaggerating.”

“Danielle’s right,” Esther said. “I don’t have one iota of imagination. One bit of truth, though, is I’m ready to hightail it out of here and party.”

We agreed and grabbed a cab to a small club that Carrie had selected. One not at all fancy but cozily trendy.

It felt good to be on a dance floor holding Bethany… and being held by her.

“Loved the touch of Ireland tonight,” I whispered in her ear. “But I think I had a drink too many. Now the truth comes out. I am indeed a barstool Mick.”

“Canadians love the Irish.”

“I’m glad.” And I meant it.

During the trip back to the hotel, my thoughts of the evening tumbled over in my mind. I’d attempted to stay high-spirited, but I hadn’t fooled Bethany. Esther might have briefed her. She was kind, considerate, and supportive.

I felt Bethany’s warm arm around my shoulder as we walked through the lobby. When we arrived in the suite, she immediately went to the painting.

“You make me look terrific.”

“You provided me with the image. Sorry I wasn’t as chipper as I might have been tonight.”

“Danielle, you have every right to be emotional. I take it this noon’s gathering didn’t go well?”

“Molly said what I should have already known. It’s over.” I hesitated and added, “Thank you for being so understanding.”

“I’ve been through a breakup or two. Loss is excruciating. All loss.”

“And how did you make your way out of the darkness?”

We sat next to each other on the sofa. She reached out and took my hand inside hers.

“I spent a week or two in fully anguished diva mode. Then I told myself that I needed to get over it.” Pain filled her eyes. She had obviously experienced an overwhelming breakup. “Getting well is the primary option.”

“Bethany, you’re very special. I wish we had met thirty years ago.”

“But we’ve met now.”

“And
now
I’m a golden girl.”

“You’re one of the most extraordinary women I’ve ever met. The past is over. I can’t change it, nor would I want to change it. It’s part of you.”

“Persisting memories aren’t always easy.”

“Danielle, you’ve come to mean a great deal to me. Often love travels in separate coordinates. Maybe our timing isn’t spot on. But maybe the goddesses have recruited me to be your special envoy.”

I caressed her cheek. “You do make me happy.”

“And you make me feel as though I’ve been made whole. I’m free to love again. Perhaps my daydream is even more impossible than yours. I wish I could return to your lovely Colorado with you and be part of your life.”

I sat back, a little stunned. “There are a million reasons why it wouldn’t work.”

“As long as there’s one reason why it might.” She lifted my chin and leaned into a gentle kiss.

A warm glow filled my heart. “I want to begin another portrait of you. And I want your face, your smile, to take up the entire canvas. I’ll title it
Bethany’s Smile
.”

She pointed to her portrait I had just finished. “What are you naming this one?”

I thought about it a moment. “Maybe
Arrival of Hope
.”

“I might have a shot at making you happy for the rest of our lives, Danielle. If you’d let me.”

“I don’t know. Considering how my day went, I’m much more interested in bringing the happiness than receiving it.”

In her high-tone Brit accent, Bethany said, “I’ll settle for a bit of both. Indeed. A little bit of both.”

Chapter 26

The night was calming and tender as Bethany soothed me with her soft touches. In the morning, she gently kissed my temple before she left. I had wanted to get up and have an early breakfast with her. She wanted me to sleep in. She won the debate easily.

After she left for work, I finally crawled out of bed, consumed with thoughts about my latest portrait.
Arrival of Hope
was dry enough to take to the gallery, but I didn’t intend on putting it in the show. When Fiona phoned, I merely told her it wasn’t ready. In truth, I wasn’t ready to relinquish it.

I would paint my next work,
Bethany’s Smile
, on a large canvas. Glancing over at the 24x36 canvas, I decided it would become a self-portrait with Bethany. She had jokingly asked me if I was going to give her a photo or a painted portrait of myself when I left her behind. I asked which she preferred. She replied she would enjoy the one I painted, which would be the true me. I asked if I might include her at my side in the portrait, and she agreed.

A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. As I opened the door, I said, “Esther, I…”

Fiona stepped in. “Wrong wing-chick. Sorry to invade your temple, but I was curious to see your latest work.” She whisked past me and toward the painting. “The canvas is blank.” As she turned, she saw
Arrival
. It was leaning against the wall. “You’re done. It’s magnificent.”

“Not done, really,” I said. “Just wanted to give it a rest.”

“See my hand?” She shoved her palm in front of my face. “I can count on these few digits how many times you’ve left a painting and started another.” She peered at the bottom of the painting. “And you’ve signed it. You never sign a painting until it’s complete. Going to give me a clue as to why you didn’t tell me it was done?”

“It’s my prerogative to finish when and if I decide.”

“And it’s my responsibility to monitor each of my clients. I’d be remiss if I didn’t know what my clients are painting or, for that matter, thinking.”

“I’m thinking that whether I sell it is going to be my decision this time.”

Fiona rolled her eyes. “I also came up here because you weren’t answering your messages.”

“I’ve been occupied.”

“Danielle, I tried to contact you to see if you think you can replenish your work in a few months for another show. A major show in Boston in May. But with the way you’re acting, I’m not sure I’ll be handling you as a client in a few months. So, I damned well may
not
need to know.”

I quickly tried to diffuse her anger. “Fiona, please don’t think of dropping me. Forgive me. Of course I want you to be my agent. You’ve been the only one in the world who has always believed in me.” I gave her a hug. “I’ll be ready for a new show in a few months. I’m bursting with ideas about subjects and themes.”

“Well, keep me informed. I have to say it was easier keeping track of you before you became a playgirl.”

“Yes, but I make a very productive playgirl,” I joked back. I would try to remember to tell Esther about Fiona’s ‘playgirl’ comment. She’d enjoy it far more than I had.

“Danielle, are you listening?” Fiona broke into my thoughts. “We’re talking a dynamic catalogue. I’ve booked a printing company.” She walked to the painting. “Got a new muse?”

“I may have. I want my next portrait to be Bethany’s entire face. I want to capture the sparkle in her eyes and her smile.”

“Hope you’ve got plenty planned. The exhibition requires the creation of an entirely new show. Four or five dozen minimum. Can you paint that many?”

“Yes. I have about a couple dozen in my studio that are ready or nearly ready. If we get in a bind, I can always remove a few from my walls.”

“I’m damn glad you’ve become so prolific.” She hesitated. “At least you’re prolific when a muse is near. Like Molly. I always felt she was your impetus.”

“Esther chatted with you about my lunch with Molly yesterday?”

“She did. And that was the first thing I thought about. Who was going to take over muse duty?”

“I paint because of my need to paint.”

“Still, you churned them out when Molly reentered your life a week ago. Now you’re painting Bethany at a fever pitch. I assume that will dwindle once you return to the crotch of America.”

I laughed. “Agreed, Denver is not as cultured a megalopolis as your own New York City. But we are somewhat gentrified.”

“Like California, Colorado gives a poor imitation of New York culture.”

“Fiona, as far as you’re concerned, outside of Europe and the East Coast, there is nothing.”

“Absolutely nothing.”

“Hey, I love my space of the world.”

“You’d do much better surrounded by a little civilization.”

“You are so egalitarian,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Go paint, bumpkin hick.”

“City slicker,” I shot back.

Fiona believed I had replaced or exchanged muses. And within days, the emptiness of Colorado would replace my newest muse. Knowing I was leaving behind the two women of my London odyssey, I thought perhaps Fiona had good reason to be concerned.

Chapter 27

Within the hour, Esther’s phone call interrupted my morning. I was certain Fiona and Esther were conspiring against me.

“According to Fiona, without Molly or Bethany, you’ll be muse-less.” Esther must have been shouting into her phone. “Carrie said you need to buck up your ideas or you’ll lose Bethany.”

“So now Carrie is in the mix.”

“Damned right. She’s been Bethany’s friend for years. And she thinks the world of her and doesn’t want Bethany hurt.”

“My ears are wearing out from your beleaguering the subject, Esther. Why don’t you come to my suite? I’ll order something for us to gulp down. Might improve your mood.”

“Because I’m about to hop in the shower.”

“How about this. I’ll order some room service delivered to your room. By the time it arrives, you’ll be out of the shower. We can chow down. And talk.”

“Then bring your checklist because I want to go over it with you.”

“Is that a yes? We’ll have breakfast together?”

“Why are you doing a late breakfast? You usually eat earlier.”

“I’m off schedule. I’m painting.”

“Don’t be late coming down. Twenty minutes tops.”

“You’ll only have half my arse to kick into submission. Fiona just left after having kicked her share, as I’m sure you know. You two are in cahoots.”

“You got that right. Fiona knows what I know.”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes. And, Esther, thanks for being a great friend.”

I tucked my phone into my breast pocket and ordered room service. I picked up a soft graphite sketching pencil and stood in front of the white canvas for several moments. I sketched the contours of Bethany’s head. After proportioning her face, I stopped. Glancing at my wristwatch, I noticed it was nearly time for me to take the elevator down to Esther’s.

Room service was being delivered as I arrived. Esther waved her hand for me to sit down. That was a warning sign she was about to go on the offensive.

I sat, placed my napkin on my lap, and lifted the stainless-steel cover. “Yummy.”

She poured coffee and stirred it vigorously. “Are you planning to phone Molly again?”

“I’m not sure. She made it quite clear that she’d rather I not contact her.”

“Not sure? I know that you’re over the initial shock and now you’ll call her. Innocently, you’ll ask if she’s okay, or some other lame question.”

“Probably not. My best guess is that Molly is no longer in the equation.”

“Danielle, I’ve talked with Carrie about how Bethany is feeling about you.”

“How are you feeling about Carrie?” I asked, to deflect Esther’s attack.

“A little early in the conversation to rotate our talk, but nice try. Carrie and I are going to be friends for years. She plans to visit Denver on her next vacation. Neither of us has any illusions about a future together.”

“Carrie’s a nice person.”

“You and Bethany could have a future.” Esther was relentless.

“You don’t know that. Bethany is an independent woman. I’m not likely to break her heart. Carrie doesn’t need to worry. Bethany knows I’ll be returning to my home.”

“What makes you think she wants to be left behind?” When I didn’t answer, Esther posed another question. “Do you think you’ll e-mail a few months and then it’ll become some makeshift, platonic relationship?”

“Probably. Possibly.”

“You both want more.”

“Esther, I’m really on edge right now. You want to know what Molly’s indictment was? The part I didn’t tell you? She told me Pamela wasn’t the only reason she left me. She left
me
. That’s the deal. I’m no longer certain I’m relationship material.”

“I don’t follow you. I’ve told you before—you and Molly were the most solid couple I’d ever seen.”

“She tells me now that she was sensitive to my being out. Not hiding my lesbianism. At least not denying it.”

“That’s a crock. You were never obvious. Never a dyke. That butch crap is a bogus charge. It shouldn’t matter anyway, as far as that goes. We’re all women.”

“I never hid it the way she did. I’ve only been ever so slightly androgynous. I like comfortable clothing, and I’m not fussy about being all girly. But I was careful around her educator pals. That pretend junk made yesterday’s self-intolerance even uglier than street or church bigotry.”

“If it bothered her, why did she stay eight years?”

“I’d be guessing if I answered that.”

“Why else did she say she left?”

“Because she was always in competition with my art. Competing for my time. Maybe she had a valid point. I did spend huge chunks of time on my art. Maybe she questioned if the sacrifice was ever going to be worth it. Perhaps she felt I hadn’t realized my potential and wouldn’t. Maybe she thought I loved art more than I loved her.”