The Inspiration (25 page)

I smile.

“Jonathan seems quite taken with you.”

“You sound surprised.”

“No, I’m not surprised that he’s attracted to you…I’m surprised you’re responding to it.”

I remain quiet, intently looking at the garden.

“I’m going to leave soon,” he says, more to himself than to me. “This isn’t really my crowd.”

I wonder who his crowd is these days.

“Hey, let’s go get something to eat.”

Surprised that he’s willing to leave already, I glance at him. “I’ve already had dinner.”

“Where’d Jonathan take you?”

“Spago.”

“Of course he did. Well, you could keep me company. I’d really like that. Hey, have you ever been to The Apple Pan?”

I shake my head.

“It’s the anti-Spago—best burgers in town. You have to stand behind people as they’re eating and grab their stool as soon as they get up to leave.”

I give him a wide-eyed stare. “As fun as that sounds, I can’t just leave, Max. Jonathan doesn’t even know where I am right now.”

“I’ll take care of that. Come on.” He takes my hand and pulls me toward the party, only letting go when I finally start following willingly. We pass a couple of women in party dresses heading toward the bar. As we get closer, he whispers conspiratorially, “Tell him you don’t feel well or something that he can’t argue with. Girls are good at that.”

“You’re trying to get me in trouble,” I chide him.

“Of course I am. I know…tell him you have bad cramps.” He snickers, clearly pleased with himself. “That always freaks guys out. Besides, you know you’ll have more fun with me than these rich art snobs.”

I shake my head. I can’t believe I’m even considering this. It’s so rude to do that to Jonathan, even if he’s busy working the event.

“Look, let me introduce you to Lisa. I’ll say hello to Jonathan and then you can drop the cramps bomb and make your escape. Then I’ll sneak out after you.”

“You’ve got this all figured out. What if I want to stay? Maybe I’m having a great time and don’t want to leave.”

“Yeah, that’s why you were sitting on that bench with your face in your hands.”

I glare, and as we weave among the groups of people, I struggle to figure out what I really want to do. I’m annoyed that Max can persuade me so easily, but in my heart of hearts, I’d much rather have another L.A. adventure with him. I’m an anxious little moth drawn to his flame.

We’re almost back to where I left Jonathan when Mrs. Matthews and her husband catch my eye. We stop and Stella smiles at Max and then at me.

“Ava, how lovely to see you here. Let me introduce you to my husband, Stephan.”

I extend my hand and smile. “Mr. Matthews, it’s such a pleasure to meet you.”

“Ava, please call me Stephan. I’m sure Max told you the good news about being included in the MOMA show.” Mr. Matthews is an older gentleman with a sturdy build, and he pulls off that handsome bald look.

“Oh, he did, and I couldn’t be happier. Thank you so much to both of you for supporting Max’s work.”

“Yes,” Max says, sliding his arm around my waist. “And thank you, Ava, for being my advocate.”

“That she certainly is!” Stella nods with a warm smile.

We excuse ourselves and join Jonathan.

“Ava, I was starting to worry about you,” he says as he raises his eyebrows and sums up Max. He looks extremely aggravated.

I decide to alter the details about my conversation with Max, hoping to defuse a conflict.

“Sorry, I ran into Max and we started talking about the book.”

“Well, don’t worry, Max. It’s coming along just fine,” Jonathan comments dryly. “I’m really enjoying working with Ava on it.”

“As am I,” Max quips. “As a matter of fact, we’re spending the day together tomorrow, but you know what, Ava? Let’s just make it a fun day and not do any work at all.”

I give him a dirty look. Why’s he trying to provoke Jonathan? Am I just the door prize for some stupid pissing match?

“I don’t know, Max…I’m really not feeling well right now. I may have to cancel tomorrow.”

Max gives me a stern look. I guess our playacting isn’t going the way he planned.

Jonathan moves closer. “You aren’t well?”

“No, I’m sorry to say, but I’m having really bad cramps. You know…it’s a girl thing. I may have to leave in a minute,” I whisper.

His color drains as he nods, accepting my ailment without question. It’s rather ironic that he looks extremely squeamish over my “female problems.” Max called that right.

Jonathan suddenly takes my elbow. “Okay, but before you go there’s someone very important here I’d like you to meet. Excuse us, Max.” A couple moves toward us and smiles at Jonathan.

Max turns, and instead of walking away, he smiles at the woman and her companion as well. Jonathan tenses and looks really pissed.

“Lisa,” Jonathan steps forward and kisses her on both cheeks. “You’re a long way from home.”

“Jonathan!” They embrace.

Jonathan shakes her companion’s hand. “Lewis, so good to see you.”

Jonathan turns to me. “Ava, please let me introduce you to my good friends, Lisa Forrester, who’s a curator at MOMA, and noted artist, Lewis Sierra.”

They both shake my hand warmly.

Lisa turns to Max. “Max, this must be the Ava you told me about earlier.”

He nods and looks delighted.

What exactly did he tell them about me?

Jonathan’s eyes narrow and his lips press tightly together. He’s really steaming now. I would actually enjoy this if I weren’t the tennis ball in this grudge match.

“To what do we owe this honor? Did you come out just for the show?” Jonathan asks, trying to gain control again.

“My best friend from college is celebrating a big birthday, so we came out for that and decided to come to this party too,” Lisa says.

“Business and pleasure,” Lewis says with a smile. His voice is a deep baritone.

We continue to talk for several minutes, until I finally decide to excuse myself and say my good-byes to everyone. Jonathan looks concerned and asks if he can at least walk me to my car, but I insist he stay with Lisa and Lewis. He reluctantly agrees.

Max watches me walk away, a devilish smile on his face.

I’m almost to my car when Max runs up behind me. “I’m just over here.” He points to his Porsche parked nearby. “So, follow me out. It’s about ten minutes from here.”

After we park behind The Apple Pan, Max holds open the swinging screen door and we step into a single room with beadboard wainscoting topped with plaid wallpaper and grumpy old waiters wearing white wedge paper hats and standing behind a U-shaped counter. Luckily, there are several empty stools due to the late hour, and Max and I sit right down and order. Our sodas are served in cups that are really white paper cones perched in red plastic holders. This place is several steps back in time and I love it.

Max looks so happy as he eats his burger and I smile. The hickory sauce drips all over his chin as he laughs and tells me sordid stories about some of the patrons from the party. He shares some of his fries with me and I let him eat most of my apple pie. I swing my legs under the stool and feel the most carefree I’ve felt in days. We’re in our own bubble, unaware of anyone else around us.

When we’re done, Max pays and then walks me to my car. “Thanks for coming, Ava. Maybe you should be thanking me. I
did
save you from a boring evening with that old man.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “I wouldn’t say he’s boring.”
If he only knew,
I think. “But I did have fun with you tonight.”

“Oh, admit it, girl,” he teases as he grabs the lapels of my jacket. “I’m much more fun than he could ever be. You’re just trying to make me wild with jealousy.”

“Really?” I push him back as he pulls me forward laughing. “And is it working?”

“Mmm.” He pulls me into a tight hug and groans. The feeling of his arms wrapped around me is almost too good and leaves me wanting more.

“And it’s just a matter of hours until you see me again,” I say as we pull apart.

“Yes, our Huntington Gardens outing.” He smiles as he tucks me into my car. “Until then, Ava.”

I start out of the parking lot, and when I glance back in my rear view mirror, he’s watching me with a smile on his face.

The next morning I try to sleep in, but Riley is up early, singing and bopping around the house as she prepares for our outing.

She offered to pack a picnic, and when I go into the kitchen for coffee, I shudder. Our kitchen looks like a warzone with condiments, open packages of bread, cut up fruit and vegetables all over the counters.

“Riley, this is enough food to feed a small army. Besides, I thought you said that they don’t let you picnic at Huntington Gardens.”

“I know, but there’s a park nearby. I figured we’d do the picnic there when we’re done seeing Huntington.” She slips a bottle of wine and corkscrew into the basket, along with plastic cups.

After I help her pull things together, I get ready. I pay special attention to rubbing lemon body butter all over my skin before slipping on a flowing skirt, fitted top and sandals. I pull out the camera Max gave me and put it in my bag.

Right before Dylan arrives, Max calls to tell us he will be a little late. They’ve shut down part of Pacific Coast Highway due to a rockslide, and the traffic’s backed up. Natural disasters and the resulting traffic delays are one of the trade-offs for living in the paradise of Malibu.

When Max finally arrives, we get the food together, pile in the car and head toward Pasadena. It’s already past noon, and Dylan announces that he’s starving.

“Change in plans, kids. We need to feed my man…picnic first!” Riley announces.

Max carries the large blanket and Dylan the basket while we wander through the park until we find a secluded spot under a huge old oak tree. After Riley serves up the food, Max inconspicuously opens the wine and pours us all full glasses. Alcohol isn’t allowed in public parks so we have to be careful, but it’s not like we’re a bunch of rowdy teenagers getting drunk at midnight.

At first it’s a little awkward with each of us perched on the blanket holding our paper plates, but as the wine relaxes us and the jokes start flowing, it becomes an idyllic day in the country, similar to a scene from my beloved Jane Austen novels.

At one point, Riley leans back against the tree and Dylan rests his head in her lap. She gently runs her fingers through his hair, and they look like a picture-postcard of love. I pull out my camera and start taking shots.

Max smiles and pulls out his new camera and starts taking pictures of me. Then I take pictures of him taking pictures of me until we start laughing and fall down on the blanket.

We finally gather up our stuff and head over to Huntington. We’re still a little giddy from the wine, so Riley skips through the Desert Garden with Dylan stalking her while Max and I take close up shots of the cacti and uniquely-shaped succulents.

We wind our way around the paths, past the lily ponds and jungle pavilion, until we end up in the Japanese Garden with its perfectly groomed gravel beds and bonsai trees. While Max and I sit for a minute to review some of the pictures we’ve taken, Dylan and Riley wander off. When I finally look up, I spot them in the distance, kissing under a canopy of wisteria.

Max follows my gaze and shakes his head. “Dylan’s got it bad and that ain’t good.”

It catches me off guard. “What’s not good about it? They’re crazy about each other.”

“I’ve known Dylan a long time. He has a history of falling hard and fast.”

“How did you meet him?”

“We actually met in high school when we both took art classes on Saturdays at Art Center in Pasadena.”

“Dylan wanted to be an artist?” I ask, surprised.

“Yes, he did. He was quite good too. But his parents always felt that the life of an artist wasn’t good enough for their son. They wore him down until he finally gave up the idea. They funded his galleries to make him a businessman when he refused to go to law school. I think he gave up too easily, but maybe his passion for it wasn’t great enough.”

I shake my head. “That’s too bad. I don’t think there is anything more honorable than being an artist. What do his parents do, anyway? Riley said they’re wealthy.”

“Yeah, his dad is a partner in the oldest law firm in Pasadena. The family is old San Marino blue blood. His grandfather owned a lot of property there.”

“Well, that explains why Riley was so nervous to meet them.”

“Yes, I’m sure they assume she’s after his money. Dylan’s last relationship ended over a year ago, and he’s been lonely. I’ve had a feeling that, the next girlfriend he meets, he’ll marry.” He shakes his head.

“What? You don’t approve of Riley? Do
you
think she’s after his money?”

He shrugs and doesn’t reply.

“You know she has a great job and a high salary. It’s not like her family is poor or anything—I think they’d be considered upper middle-class.” My temper flares.

He frowns. “I don’t know, maybe. I’ve a hard time trusting anyone when it comes to relationships. It seems like there’s always an agenda.”

I stare at him, trying to contain my surprise and disappointment.