The Art of Love: Origins of Sinner's Grove (36 page)

Lia tried to lose herself in work. Scandal in the press hadn’t discouraged patrons from hiring her; in fact her notoriety increased her appeal, at least among male art collectors. She finished up the last commission she’d been working on, and took on another—the only one offered by a woman. From early morning to late in the evening she designed, sketched, prepped, painted—anything to keep her mind off what she’d lost. She allowed herself only one weakness: scanning the
Call
to see if there were any photographs or mention of Gus.

Sandy, as usual, was a pillar of support, always there with a smile, a funny story, a mini adventure to distract her. Yet he’d become so much more than a light-hearted sidekick. Through him, she began to see the world from a broader perspective.

Like Lia, Sandy was a child of privilege, but his sexual orientation often led him to society’s fringe. As an art student he’d begun, like so many others, in a traditional vein, but over time had shifted to more controversial subjects. Back in New York it had been the children of Mulberry Street; in San Francisco he was drawn to the plight of Chinese immigrants. Brushing off rumors of plague-ridden neighborhoods, he often spent time in Chinatown sketching its inhabitants: the fishmongers and dock workers, storekeepers and opium peddlers. From little children to wizened old timers, he captured a world that San Francisco’s “polite society” derided at worst and at best, ignored.

A few days after the scandal broke, Sandy took Lia to Chinatown to distract her. Because the immigrants were used to Sandy, they readily accepted her. She drew dozens of scenes, seeking the best way to understand and illustrate the emotional truth about the people she encountered.

“Thank you for opening my eyes, Sandy,” Lia told him afterward over a dim sum meal on Grant Street. “These people add so much to our culture, and yet we treat them so shabbily.”

“They do get the short end of the stick more often than not,” he agreed. “And there’s been quite a bit of panic over the incidents of plague, although honestly, I think it’s much ado about nothing.” Sandy leaned forward, his eyes shining. “The beauty of the Chinese people is only surpassed by their intelligence and work ethic. Mark my words: someday they’ll be a force to be reckoned with, and those who understand that, like your Mr. Wolff and Will Firestone, are going to reap the benefits down the line.”

At the mention of Gus’s name, Lia froze. “He’s no longer ‘my’ Mr. Wolff,” she reminded him.

Sandy rested his hand on hers. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to rub salt, but I can’t help admiring them. Do you know, while all the other shipping companies are inflating their prices for local Chinese who want to return to their homeland or bring family members over, Pacific Global is offering fares that immigrants can actually afford? They’re ahead of the curve.”

“They’re good men,” Lia said, her eyes unexpectedly welling up.

“Yes, they are…but Lia? That still doesn’t excuse what Gus did to you.”

Lia shrugged her shoulders. “What did he do to me, Sandy? I mean really? He never promised me anything, never lied to me, never forced me…”

“No, but he could have been up front with you from the beginning.”

“That’s true, and then I would have said goodbye and missed out on some of the best times of my life.” Her smile was sad. “So, I’m a big girl and now it’s time to move on, right?”

“No, you’re a little girl,” he teased, “and what do you mean, ‘time to move on’?”

Lia looked around the little restaurant. “I don’t know. Discover more, I guess. See what’s out there for me.”

“Or maybe who?” He raised his eyebrows.

“I don’t think so,” she said. She shook her head to clear it. “Oh, the Keiths have invited me for dinner tomorrow evening. I’m sure there’s room for one more. Join me?”

“Darling, I would if I could, but Roger and I are attending the opera.” He held up a hand as if to ward Lia off. “And if you think I’m going to spy on Angel Lindemann to see who’s escorting her…you’re absolutely right.” Sandy chuckled as he paid the bill. “Come, my sweet. Let’s head back.”

“We miss you,” Mary Keith told Lia the following evening. She heaved a mock sigh. “But I suppose being the most sought-after painter in the city wouldn’t leave much time to stretch canvas and clean paint brushes for old friends, now would it?” They all laughed and Lia was reminded once again of how much she adored these two lovely people. They had helped her when she needed a job, and now stuck by her despite the unsavory publicity she’d gotten. She was incredibly lucky to have friends like Sandy and the Keiths.

Gus wasn’t mentioned, nor was her recent notoriety, but the subject of Chinatown and Asia did come up.

“I happen to know Professor Zhang Yong of the Hong Kong Institute of Art,” William remarked over an after-dinner glass of wine. “We worked together on a show in Zurich. Good man. Very talented. Very open-minded. You could learn a lot about the Asian style from him.”

“Maybe he could use an assistant,” Lia suggested in jest.

“As a matter of fact, he did tell me he’d be interested in hiring visiting professors upon my recommendation. I could send a cable to him if you like.”

Lia looked at her mentor, not sure if he was joking or not. Then she turned to Mary, who nodded.

“You might want to consider it,” Mary said. “It would be a nice…change of scenery.”

“I’ll think about it,” Lia said.

“Excellent.” William finished his glass of wine. “Now, let me show you some sketches I’ve been working on. One in particular I call
After the Storm
. See what you think.”

They spent the rest of the evening discussing art in general and technique in particular. Normally Lia would have been enthralled, but all she could think about was the Keiths’ suggestion that she travel to the East. Could she do it? She’d be on her own, of course; Sandy wouldn’t want to leave Roger. But if she had a position waiting for her…

It was nearing midnight and Lia called a cab to take her home. She hugged Mary and William, thanking them not just for the meal, but for always being there when she needed them. “You don’t know how much your friendship means to me,” she said.

“It’s more than friendship, dear one. You’re like a little sister to me…and a daughter to William.” Mary grinned, making light of the age gap between herself and her husband.

Lia impulsively hugged each of them again. “Thank you.” The taxi driver honked his horn and she hurriedly donned her coat. She was halfway to the taxi when it dawned on her what she should do. Turning back, she said, “William? I’d appreciate it if you’d send that cable.”

“Consider it done,” he said. “I should hear something back in a week or so.” He and Mary waved goodbye and Lia returned home, accompanied only by her churning thoughts.

Back at her bungalow, Lia lay in bed mulling over the decision she’d made. Just when she was establishing herself in this glorious city, just when the commissions were starting to come in, she was taking off. Was it running away? Maybe. But spending day after day wanting someone she couldn’t have was a physical ache that no pill or therapy could rid her of. And being in the same city, waiting for the next photograph, the next mistress…well, it was unbearable. Now that Sandy had introduced her to a different view of the world, a trip to the Orient would broaden her perspective all the more. And once she returned—if she returned—she’d look for someplace else to call home. Los Angeles, perhaps, or Chicago. A flutter of panic went through her as she contemplated life without Sandy nearby. But he had his own life to live; he’d sacrificed enough for her already.

No, a trip to Hong Kong, and maybe points beyond, needed to happen. She would begin to iron out the details tomorrow.

Sitting in his cold, darkened dining room, Gus had almost convinced himself that someone had done something malicious to all the clocks. Broken them or something. Made them slow as molasses. Because time
crawled
.

Oh, he’d gone back to work. After a fashion. He’d shown up for meetings, read the reports, brokered the deals, signed the contracts. But none of it meant anything until he was back home, thinking. And waiting. But for what? Some insight to come to him? Some absence of feeling that would let him go out and find another woman? Problem was, he didn’t want another woman, and a little voice in the back of his head taunted him with the idea that he’d never want a woman again. And even that didn’t bother him, which was when he knew he was in trouble.

He’d dragged his favorite easy chair into the room and set it up with a table next to it where he could set his glass of Jack and contemplate Lia’s mural. By now he needn’t have bothered looking at it because it was seared into his brain. In fact, more than once he’d considered covering it up again. The logical part of him knew he was obsessing about losing Lia, but the illogical part of him didn’t give a damn. As he had for the past several nights, Gus lay back with his feet up, hoping eventually to get some shut eye that didn’t contain dreams of a beautiful dark-haired woman who was just out of reach.

“Your sittin’ in the dark like this is beginning to worry me, old man.” Once again Will’s voice intruded on Gus’s solitude.

“What’s it to you?” Gus muttered. “And how the hell did you get in here?”

Will pulled up one of the dining chairs. “I knocked and Mrs. Coats let me in. God knows you wouldn’t have.”

“Damn right. You want a drink?”

“Since it’s nine o’clock in the evening instead of eight in the morning, I believe I will.” He helped himself to a glass from the sideboard and poured himself two fingers’ worth from Gus’s bottle. “This is the grand mural, I take it.” He gestured to Lia’s painting. “Too bad I can’t see it.”

“You want to see it, be my guest. Switch is on the wall to your left.”

Will got up and turned on the light. “My word,” he said, taking it all in. “That’s a hell of a piece.”

“I know,” Gus said, taking a drink. “I know.”

Will sat down again, casually crossing his legs. “If I had a woman who’d painted something so wonderful for me, I’d want to keep her, that’s for damn sure.”

Gus scowled. “Are you trying to be funny? Because I gotta tell you, it’s not working.”

Ignoring Gus’s comment, Will went on. “Yes indeed, someone as beautiful as Lia Starling, I’d do just about anything to make her mine. Legally mine. As in marry her…before she heads to Hong Kong.”

It took half a second for Will’s words to sink in, but when they did…“What?! What did you say?”

“I said a smart man would marry her before she left town for good.” Will looked straight at Gus. “Because she’s leaving in three days.”

“Shit, how do you know that?”

“Lia told Sandy this morning. Sandy turned right around and told me. Apparently he’s not above pulling strings to keep her here, since she’s booked passage on the
Cormorant
.”

“Our
ship?”

“The very same. Kind of her to support our enterprise, wouldn’t you say? And our maiden voyage to boot. Since we’re the owners, Sandy figures we could find a way to delay her trip. A mix-up in the ticketing, maybe?”

Gus took a deep breath and let it out, but the knot in his chest remained. “No. I promised her I’d never manipulate her with money or connections. She’s had enough of that in her life. Besides, she’d just find another ship and no telling what would happen to her then. At least now she’ll be safe.
That
I don’t mind arranging.”

“So, let me get this straight. The woman you love is going to sail out of your life and you’re just going to let her go instead of asking her to stay and making her your wife?”

Okay, now the fool was asking for it.
“Why don’t you just shut the hell up?” Gus bit out. “You know I can’t do that.”

Will nonchalantly checked his fingernails. “Oh, really? Oh, that’s right. You already have a wife whom you have to extricate yourself from.” He tsked. “That is a problem, isn’t it?”

Gus simply glared at him.

“Well, isn’t it? Oh, wait. The answer is no, it isn’t.”

Gus leaned back in his chair, weary of the game. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about your wife, Gus.” Will’s voice had turned deadly serious. “I found her.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT