by Regina Duke
“You’re welcome.” He glanced back at Zinnia. “Tomorrow.” By the time he reached the Cattleman’s parking lot, he was shaking his head and grinning from ear to ear. Maybe Mrs. Chen was right. Maybe he’d do a lot better if he cleaned up his act. He scratched his beard. Still too early to check in at the hotel. He strode through the lobby, making a beeline for the shops at the back. One of them was a hair stylist. He had plenty of time to get started on his makeover.
* * *
After work, Zinnia headed for the library. She’d built in an hour for herself before Rose arrived so she could be alone with the art books. But she was burning with curiosity about what was going on with her friend, so she was more than happy to stuff her sketch book in her purse when Rose came breathlessly through the front door.
“Hey, Zin!”
“Hey, Rose! Did you run?”
“Only from my car. It’s slushing out there!”
“Ick. That’s the worst!”
“We’re supposed to have sunshine tomorrow…and a high of twenty. Can’t wait.” She plopped onto the chair next to Zinnia. They were alone in the reading room.
Zinnia cleared her throat. “I’m really grateful you’re letting me stay with you for a while.”
“Easy favor,” said Rose. “Did Bernard finally flip his wig?”
“Pretty much. He moved the babies into my bedroom and stuffed all my things in the storeroom.”
“That sucks!”
“That’s how I felt. I just…if they’d asked me…I feel robbed of the opportunity to be sweet and gracious, you know? I could have said, why, yes, of course the babies need more room, and why don’t I move my own things into the big closet?”
Rose laughed. “You can be exquisitely sarcastic, you know that?”
Zinnia let one corner of her mouth twist up in a smile. Then she moved on to the question she was dying to ask. “Rose, aren’t you working anymore? I thought you loved your job at the bookstore.”
Rose squirmed and looked away. “I do. I did. But Chester seems to think a proper ranch wife shouldn’t work in town.”
“You quit because Chester told you to?” Zinnia was horrified.
Rose rushed to his defense. “No, no, Zin. I did it for Chester, not because of him. You know we pledged we would never let men run our lives,” she said, making a silly face. Then more seriously, “This was like an act of love, you know? Like proving how much I respect his wishes.”
Zinnia eyed her stonily. “Really?”
“I swear.”
Zinnia skipped a beat, then said, “Forty acres, huh?”
Rose blushed. “Did Mother tell you that?”
Zinnia nodded. “And a mobile home?”
“She at least called it a mobile home. That’s something, I guess.”
“She called it a trailer.”
Rose lifted an index finger in the air. “That’s more like it.” She grew serious. “Mom doesn’t think marrying Chester is a good idea. She thinks we should wait another year, see how his ranch does.”
“But you disagree?”
Rose looked at her pleadingly. “Chester is the only boy who ever said he loved me! What if I never get another offer? What if this is it?”
“Oh Rose, we’re still young! Twenty-one is barely old enough to buy liquor. You don’t have to get your whole life squared away before you even know what life can be.”
“You have definitely been spending way too much time talking to my mother.” She gave a little shrug. “Okay. My BFF, who lived at home until last night, is lecturing me on what life can be. I think a trailer is a step up from a storage closet.”
Zinnia flinched.
“Sorry,” said Rose. “You’re right. A trailer is hardly much better. I just feel so…left behind…by our high school friends.”
“I know. But you were building a future in bookstore management and I am constantly working on my art and learning the gallery business. My brother says so many of the guys in community college have one aspiration: a full-time job. We just got started earlier than them.”
Rose looked thoughtful. “That’s a great way to look at it.” She sagged a bit. “I figure Chester will realize soon enough that I need to work outside the home,” she admitted. “I was just afraid if I rejected his request that I quit, well, maybe he would call off the wedding.”
“You poor thing. Look, let’s go get lunch. My treat. I have a few dollars left.”
“Did your parents give you a refund on the rent?”
Zinnia gave her that You’ve Got to Be Out of Your Mind look.
Rose stood up. “Dad gave me a twenty this morning. Benefit of being an only child. Let’s go have pizza.”
An hour later, stuffed to the gills, Rose sipped her Coke and leaned her chin on one hand. The red-and-white checkered table cloth made a feeble attempt at an Italian atmosphere. “Some day,” she said, “we’ll be dining on lasagna in the Il Vaccaro, instead of staring at oilcloth here at Luigi’s.”
“The pizza’s good here,” said Zinnia, always looking on the bright side. She played with her straw. “I apologize for ragging on Chester. Love is blind, right? So if you’re in love, then I say you go, girl. I’ll still be your BFF.”
“Thanks, Zin.” Rose always mellowed out after a mountain of mozzarella and pepperoni. “Yes, I…I’m pretty sure I’m in love.”
Zinnia bit her tongue and stifled the dig that sprang to mind. “Do you like his parents?”
“They’re fine. They live on the adjacent forty acres and raise chickens and goats, and his mother does lots of canning. She said she can’t wait to teach me how to can.”
“You don’t exactly sound thrilled.”
Rose crossed her eyes for a second. “I hate cooking.”
Zinnia grinned. “Thank goodness. I was worried, you know, that you’d been replaced by a Stepford wife robot.”
“No, it’s still me, and I’ll prove it.” She pinned Zinnia with a penetrating stare. “How is your love life?”
“Very funny. Non-existent. Like yours better be, if you don’t want to disappoint your mother. She thinks you’re coming home every night at midnight. Imagine my surprise when you traipsed in at two in the morning.”
“Don’t worry.” She averted her gaze. “We…we fell asleep watching a movie. I told Chester from the beginning that I wanted to wait for marriage. And it only took him half a year to stop pressuring me. Hmph. Men are pigs.” She stabbed the air with an accusing finger. “How cleverly you changed the subject. Any prospects in your future?”
Zinnia suppressed the urge to remind Rose that she could always tell when her friend was lying. Instead, she faked a dreamy-eyed look. “There is this one guy…. He’s hairy and old and dresses like a homeless man, but he does appreciate good art.”
“Eeeeew! That’s awful!”
Zinnia continued the joke. “But Rose, he may be all I can find!”
Rose pouted. “Your evil depths know no bounds.”
Zin tapped her arm playfully. “I’m sorry. He gave me a magazine to read and said he was coming back to the gallery tomorrow to make sure I did my homework.”
“Maybe I should drop by in the morning?”
“Oh please do. He’s a little freaky looking.”
“You headed back to the library?”
Zinnia tilted her head to one side. “If your parents haven’t shoved my backpack out into the garage, I thought maybe I’d go back to your house and figure out what to wear tomorrow. I could only fit so much in my backpack. Will you be home this evening?”
“Yes. Mom must have a camera in the living room. She knew I was late getting home. I promised to stay home for dinner.”
“Great!”
Rose’s phone pinged and she read the text, then grumbled, “And afterward her Oldies group is coming over for a sing-along.”
“That’ll be loads of fun!” Zinnia grabbed her purse and stood up. “Come on!”
Rose looked pained. “I think our families switched us at bi
rth. Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Tuesday morning dawned bright and cold. Zinnia loved Colorado and knew it could be snowing like the dickens before noon but she didn’t care. Her evening with the Stiglianos had cheered her considerably. And cleaning up the kitchen afterward scored high points with Mr. Stigliano. Rose decided Tuesday morning that Zinnia should inherit her three-year-old down jacket because she’d gotten a new one for Christmas. She also insisted that her friend use a pair of her snow boots, and together, they pulled a few items from Rose’s closet and stuck them at the far end for Zinnia to use until she either got new clothes or retrieved the things she’d left at her parents’ house.
Zinnia was overwhelmed. “This is so sweet of you, Rose. How can I ever thank you?”
Rose pretended to think about it. “I know,” she said at last. “You can stop being everyone’s favorite on Oldies night.”
Zinnia took a swipe at her, but Rose was too fast. Laughing, she said, “I know you harmonize better than I do, but dang it, girl, those old people adore you.”
“They aren’t old,” said Zinnia. “They sing the Oldies. My mother listens to oldies on the radio all the time.” Thinking about her mother muted her enthusiasm. “I guess I should call her and let her know I’m okay.”
“My mother did that the first night. No worries. She knows where you are. Now put that dress away and use wear these pants. What’s wrong with you, girl? It’s below freezing outside!”
Zinnia did as directed. Rose was right. And the black jeans Rose was lending her would look plenty dressy enough under her sarong and bangles at the Gallery.
Rose sniffed the air. “Yummy! Mom’s making cinnamon rolls for breakfast. Come on, I’ll drive you to work again. You’ve got time to eat.”
The cinnamon rolls were heavenly. Zinnia let the others chit-chat over the table while the icing melted in her mouth.
“Carl, don’t forget to take out the trash, please.”
“Mmm.”
“Mom, did you have to take a class in DadSpeak before you guys got married?”
“Ha!”
“Don’t make your father laugh while he’s eating.”
Rose checked her phone. “We’d better go, Zin. Bring your roll with you.”
Zinnia wrapped half of it in a paper napkin. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Stigliano. These are delicious.”
Carl added, “Very.”
In the car, bundled in her hand-me-down down, Zinnia inhaled the aroma of her still-warm roll. “Your parents are so cute together.”
Rose laughed. “Yours are equally entertaining, trust me. They just have to be viewed by an outsider.” She backed carefully out of the driveway. Yesterday’s snowmelt had frozen solid overnight. She paused before shifting into drive. “Well, your mom can be entertaining. Not sure about Bernard.”
Zinnia smiled. “You’re saying that because you’re my best friend.”
“Guilty. So, when is this homeless guy coming by the Gallery?”
Zinnia shrugged. “No idea. But come on. You don’t really think he’ll show up, do you?”
“Did you read the magazine he gave you?”
“No! I forgot all about it during Oldies evening.” She reached into her purse and pulled out the rolled magazine. “Let’s see…page one-hundred-twenty…by the way, Rose, you got awfully dressed up to drive me to work.”
Rose pressed her lips in a tight line, then said, “I thought about your advice yesterday. You know, about my job and Chester. I decided to stop in at the bookstore and see if they still have a place for me.”
Zinnia knew how hard it was for Rose to admit she’d made a mistake, so she limited her remarks to, “Good plan.”
They drove the rest of the way in silence, except for the turning of magazine pages. When the car came to a stop in front of the Gallery, Zinnia held up a photo from the magazine and stuttered in disbelief, “There he is! The homeless guy!”
Rose squinted at the photo. “Eww, he does look old and hairy.” She read the caption: “El Barto with the King of Spain at Madrid Opening.” She grabbed Zinnia’s arm. “Holy crap, Zin.”
Zinnia laughed. “Well, that’s a relief,” she said. “Now I don’t have worry about whether he’s coming by or not. Anyone who hobnobs with royalty isn’t going to bother coming back here. You go talk to your old manager, then let me know what happens. You have the gallery number?”
“Yes. Hey, some day you’re going to need a phone, Neanderthal Woman. Mom and I text back and forth all day long.”
“Maybe someday, when I can afford it. See you later.”
Ashley was already in her office, looking much more relaxed than the day before.
“Nanny’s back?” asked Zinnia.
“Nope, but the kids are with Thor today.” She smiled. “I told him not to bother me unless there’s blood flowing. I’ll be working in my office if you need me.”
Zinnia donned her sarong and bangles and took up her post at the front desk. Soon she was happily sketching away, reproducing a different part of the Gaugin on the wall. The biggest excitement of the morning was the arrival of a small school bus with students from the private academy, who’d come as a class to shop for art supplies. Zinnia loved this part of her job, and by the time the bus had loaded up its students and left, she was giddy at being able to deliver over two thousand dollars to Ashley’s desk.
“Good job, Zin,” said Ashley. “You handled that beautifully. I especially liked the part where you talked the instructor into buying a couple of back-up canvases in case something happened to the students’ supplies. You deserve a bonus.” She came around her desk and marched out to the now-depleted supply racks and selected a nine-by-twelve pad of thick paper for drawing with pastels. “How about this?”
“Oh Ashley, that’s wonderful. Are you sure? I was just doing my job.”
Ashley picked up a double set of pastels. “Yes, I’m sure. Take these as well.” She glanced up when the bell over the front door rang. “Time for you to go. Your friend Rose is here. I’m going back to work. See you tomorrow.”
Zinnia was thrilled. She’d drooled over the art paper and pastels for weeks, but she hadn’t been able to talk herself into parting with that much money. Beaming with pleasure, she turned to Rose and found her expression reflected in her friend’s face.
“Zin! You give the best advice. Not only did they hire me back, they offered me a raise. And starting tomorrow, I get six hours a day.”
“That’s fantastic! Look at the bonus Ashley gave me.” While she was gushing, someone new came in the front door. Ashley called from her office, “Zin? Are you still there?”
“Yes, ma’am! I’ll take care of it.” She stepped around Rose and approached the man. He was clean shaven and his light brown hair was perfectly coiffed. He appeared to be poured into pale blue jeans with a crease ironed down the front, and when he unzipped his red snow jacket, it looked like his tee shirt had been spray painted on his body. She warmed at the sight of him and felt a tiny tug on her heart. He wasn’t too tall, had a brilliant smile, and looked to be close to her own age. He was a total dreamboat. “Welcome, sir. What can I help you with?”
“I said I’d come back. Did you read the article?”
At the sound of his voice, her knees wobbled, but he caught her before she went down.
* * *
Bart was deeply affected by Zinnia’s reaction. “Are you okay?”
She’d lost all her color. He didn’t dare let go of her. The other young woman slipped an arm around her shoulders, leaving little room for Bart’s assistance. “Don’t let her go,” he said, taking a step back. “She nearly fainted.”
The tall sophisticated brunette he’d seen the day before appeared at the door of an inner room. “Zin? Rose? Is everything okay?”
Rose was backing Zinnia toward her stool. “She’s okay, Ashley. This guy just scared the heck out of her.”
Bart held up a palm to fend off her accusation. “I didn�
�t mean to. Honest. I thought she’d recognize me.”
Ashley trotted over to them. “Zinnia? Shall I call a doctor?”
Zinnia shook her head. “No. No, it’s okay. This…This…” She stuttered, pointing at Bart. “This is the famous artist, El Barto.”
Ashley’s skepticism scrunched her features together. She planted her fists on her hips and snapped, “What have you been telling this young woman? I keep up with the art world, and I know what El Barto looks like.” She snatched Art World off the reading rack and flipped it open to an article where she planted a finger. “This scruffy pretender is El Barto. Or Le Bart.” She pronounced his name in French as two syllables—Bar-tuh.
Bart couldn’t help it, he had to laugh. “That’s what I looked like yesterday,” he said, “before my make over.”
Ashley stared hard, shifting her gaze back and forth between him and the magazine. “If you’re really Le Bart, tell me the name of the painting you sold in Madrid for half a million dollars.”
Bart dipped his chin like a kid caught cheating on a test. “Look, I can understand why you called me a ‘pretender,’ but I promised Zinnia I would clean up and come back today. I was tired of playing the ancient Bohemian attic-doodler.”
Ashley pinned him with a hard stare “See, Zinnia? He’s a fake. He can’t even name his biggest seller.”
Zinnia was showing a bit of pink on each check. “Oh, no. A fake?”
Bart straightened his shoulders. “I’m not a fake,” he reassured her. For Ashley’s benefit, he added, “The name of that giant expression of a drunken stupor was ‘La mort de la vie artistique.’ I had to name it something.”
Ashley checked the magazine. “Well, well…The death of artistic life. You’re really him…or you read the magazine.” But she was smiling. “I didn’t recognize you without the wizard look.” She held out a hand. “I’m Ashley Garrison. I think we may be cousins-in-law by marriage.”
Zinnia and Rose looked stunned. They chorused, “You know each other?”
Ashley said, “Yes.”
Bart said, “No.”
Then they announced at the same moment, “We’ve never met.”