by June Tate
He studied the worried expression on her face. ‘Fine, if that’s what you want, but promise me one thing.’
‘What’s that?’
‘If things get really bad between you, you’ll come to me.’
‘Why would you want to be involved with my problems?’
‘Because I admire the way you left your family to come to a strange country. That took courage and I can’t sit back and see you treated badly. You are stuck here whether you like it or not and that isn’t fair.’
Gracie was overcome by his kindness. ‘Thanks Rick, but I’m sure I can work things out. If only I had a green card I could work.’
‘You can apply for one, you’re entitled to one, because you married an American.’
She looked at him in surprise. ‘I didn’t know that!’
He scribbled a number onto a piece of paper. ‘This is the phone number at home until I move, should you want me. Keep it and use it if you ever need me. Promise?’
‘Your mother would really be furious if I rang and asked for you!’
‘My parents hardly ever answer the phone at night,’ he told her. ‘It’s usually me that does, so don’t you worry none.’
She rose from her seat. ‘Thanks, Rick. I’ve got to get back.’
‘You made a serious mistake, Gracie honey.’
‘I did?’
He grinned broadly at her. ‘You sure did. You married the wrong brother!’
She laughed at him. ‘You are outrageous!’ Still laughing she left the diner.
But as she walked home, she still had tonight to face. Jeff would expect her to move back into their bedroom and she had no intention of doing so and that would cause trouble. But she was determined. There would have to be a compromise before she would even consider doing so and he wouldn’t like that. Not one bit!
Chapter Twelve
Ross Johnson was due home from his business trip and Valerie was buzzing with excitement. She had now accepted the fact that she was good enough to exhibit her paintings and had been working hard, both at the art classes and under Max’s tuition. Her renewed belief in herself had given her a real drive to succeed and Max had been so pleased with her work that he’d included two more of her paintings in the viewing, which was taking place the next evening.
Valerie had prepared a special dinner for her husband, the table set beautifully, candles waiting to be lit, wine opened and breathing ready to be poured. Beside Ross’s plate was the small poster advertising the exhibition. She could hardly wait for him to see it.
When he eventually arrived, Ross put down his case, kissed Valerie briefly and said, ‘I need a shower before dinner, if that’s alright with you?’
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I’ll pour you a drink.’
She pottered in the kitchen until Ross emerged in slacks and a shirt. He walked into the kitchen, kissed the back of her neck, saying, ‘That smells delicious. It’s good to be home.’
‘It’s nice to have you back. How was your trip?’
He began to tell her in detail what had transpired. As they sat at the table and she served the meal, he was still talking. He pushed the poster aside without even looking at it.
Valerie hid her disappointment but as a dutiful wife she listened until he’d finished.
‘What have you been up to?’ he asked.
‘I’ve been painting,’ she said.
‘Oh good,’ he broke a piece of bread. ‘How is the art class going?’
She felt the excitement building inside her as she said,
‘Fine, but I’ve been taking extra lessons.’
‘Really?’
He continued to eat and Valerie felt he was just being polite; there was no real interest in his voice. She felt her anger growing.
‘Yes, Max Brennen has been teaching me.’
Now she’d caught his interest. Ross looked up. ‘How did that come about?’
She explained how they’d met in Central Park and how he’d offered to teach her then she pushed forward the poster. ‘Here,’ she said … and waited.
Ross read the poster, twice as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, and then he looked up. ‘You agreed to this?’
This was hardly the reaction she was expecting. ‘Yes, why do you ask?’
‘But this man is a talented artist!’
Valerie felt as if he’d slapped her. ‘You don’t think that I am, is that it?’
‘Well darling you draw very well – but you’re hardly in his class!’
She was enraged by his condescension. ‘Of course I’m not but Max likes my work. He thinks I’m someone with a special talent, that’s why he asked me to share his exhibition. But you don’t have to come along, after all you didn’t come to the last viewing!’
He realised his mistake. ‘Of course I’ll come along. If the great man thinks you have talent then who am I to say differently?’
‘Who indeed!’ She rose from her chair. ‘I’ll just get the dessert.’
The art gallery was ready and Valerie and Max, having arrived early, viewed the paintings on show. He complimented her on her attire.
‘You look lovely,’ he said, ‘you have such an air of elegance about you that is captivating!’
She was wearing a simple but expensive black dress, which showed her slim figure off so well. In her ears, a simple pair of diamond earrings and a matching brooch. Her blonde hair swept up in a sophisticated style. She had taken great care with her appearance not wanting to let herself or Max down.
‘Why thank you,’ she said.
She’d been surprised to see the wall showing her work. There was a banner with Valerie Johnson, a bright new talent across the top. She didn’t know what to say when she first saw it and had looked at Max with a worried frown.
‘Trust me, Valerie. I know what I’m doing,’ and he’d squeezed her hand. ‘Is your husband coming this time?’
She gave a wry smile. ‘Yes, although he thinks this,’ she indicated towards her work, ‘is a big mistake!’
‘Then he’s in for a shock. Are you ready for the consequences I wonder?’
Before she could ask him what he meant, people started arriving. Max took her by the arm. ‘Come, there is someone I want you to meet.’ He walked her over to a tall distinguished looking gent.
‘Carl, how good of you to come. I’d like you to meet Valerie Johnson, my protégé. Valerie, this is Carl Blackmore, a friend of mine.’
The man shook her hand. ‘Mrs Johnson. I’ve heard a lot about you from Max.’
‘You have?’ She didn’t know what to say, other than, ‘Can I get you a glass of champagne?’
‘Thank you, I’d love one.’
She took one off a tray that a waiter was carrying, gave it to him and left as Max led him over to her paintings. She watched from a distance wondering just who he was.
The room was filling up when she saw Ross arrive. He saw her and walked over.
‘Good turn out,’ he said then added, ‘but of course, Max is pretty well known.’ He helped himself to a glass of champagne and said, ‘Well, let’s look at your paintings.’
Just as a parent would say to their child on a school night she felt, but when he stood before the wall and looked at the eight pictures on show, his demeanour changed.
‘These are really quite good,’ he said with some surprise.
‘Your wife has a great talent, Mr Johnson!’ Max stood beside him.
‘Well, she paints quite well,’ Ross answered.
‘Rather more than that, if I might contradict you!’ Valerie turned to see Carl Blackmore standing next to Ross.
‘Carl Blackmore is the art critic for the New York Times,’ Max told Ross quietly.
Valerie wasn’t sure who was the more surprised she, or her husband!
‘Your wife has a unique quality about her work that really excites me,’ the man said. ‘You must be very proud of her?’
‘Yes, yes I am,’ Ross stammered.
Max looked at h
er and winked, she hid a smile.
‘Sorry Ross,’ Max said, ‘but there are people I want Valerie to meet, who will help her in her career, excuse us?’
‘Career, what career?’ Ross asked but he was now alone. He stood in front of the paintings but now he studied them more closely.
The evening was a resounding success. Several of the glitterati of New York had been invited, as had several reporters, all of whom wanted pictures of Valerie and Max together and Valerie alone. There was an air of excitement about the place as people viewed the work of this new artist, the discovery of Max Brennen – noted artist in his own right.
It had been a good night for sales too. Several of Max’s sold and all eight of Valerie’s at prices set by Max himself. Valerie had thought them far too expensive but he had explained his reasoning to her before they opened the gallery.
‘Tonight is going to be special for you. It’s your first showing and if it goes as well as I think it will, people will rush to buy because very quickly the price will be sky high. Tonight they’ll feel they have a bargain.’
She’d just laughed at him but now, after all the interviews, the pictures and the accolades, she was starting to believe him.
Ross, who had been observing how things were going the whole evening, was suddenly realising that his wife was about to become a celebrity. Once he’d got over his surprise, he began to scheme how this could help him business wise. If she did become a success, she’d maybe be mixing with folk who could become prospective clients. He suddenly brightened and at the end of the evening, he walked over to her and kissed her cheek.
‘Well done, darling. I had no idea you were so clever. I’m so sorry I didn’t take your work more seriously.’
Max watched and listened. He didn’t like Ross Johnson! He didn’t think for one moment he was being sincere and he wondered what was behind his change of heart.
Ross shook Max by the hand. ‘I can’t thank you enough for helping Valerie. It was very kind of you.’
‘Kindness didn’t come into it!’ Max stated rather sharply. ‘I saw real talent, talent that was being wasted and I wanted to bring it to the fore and I did tonight, as you saw.’
Valerie interrupted. ‘Max is not only going to be my teacher but he’s going to be my agent too.’
‘I don’t understand,’ said Ross.
Max glared at him. ‘Tonight is only the beginning, we have a long way to go now, but it’s late, I think we all need a good night’s sleep.’ He leant forward and kissed Valerie on the cheek.
‘Well done. I’m really proud of you. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ He nodded to Ross and walked away.
Valerie took her husband’s arm. ‘Come on Ross, I’m beat! Let’s get a cab and go home. I need a hot bath and my bed.’
On the way home, Ross was silent for which Valerie was thankful. Tonight had been so exciting, an unbelievable success and she still couldn’t quite believe it had happened. Sitting quietly in the cab, she went over the whole evening in her mind and was awash with happiness. She would never be able to repay Max for nurturing her and making her a better artist.
Once they were in the apartment, she ran a bath and luxuriated in the warmth and the scent of the bath oil she’d put into the water. All she wanted now was to sleep. But Ross had other ideas.
‘Sit down, darling,’ he said as she emerged from the bathroom. ‘We must make plans for your finances.’
‘My what?’
‘Well, your paintings all sold tonight. You made an amazing amount of money, we must decide how best to deal with it.’
‘No need,’ she told him. ‘Max is taking care of everything.’ She walked towards the bedroom. ‘Goodnight, Ross, as I’m sure you can understand, I’m really tired.’ She left him sitting in the living room, a look of surprise on his face.
When Valerie woke the next morning, she looked at the clock on her bedside table and was shocked to see it was ten o’clock. She climbed out of bed, put on a dressing gown and walked into the kitchen. On the side were a cup and saucer and a plate that Ross had left after his breakfast. She made herself a coffee and sat down on the settee, just as the phone rang.
‘Hello?’
It was Max. ‘Good morning, have you read today’s issue of the New York Times?’
‘Good heavens, no! I’ve only just woken up.’
‘Right! I’ll buy some croissants and come over. You must see this, it’s terrific,’ and he hung up.
Valerie quickly washed, changed into a pair of trousers and sweater, brushed her hair and applied her lipstick just in time to answer the doorbell.
Max stepped into the room, lifted her off her feet and swung her round. ‘You are a star!’ he said. He then led her to the settee and opened the paper. ‘Here is the art column. Read it!’
She read the headline. A NEW TALENT EMERGES. It was written by Carl Blackmore. She slowly read his words of praise for her work and could hardly believe it.
The article ended by saying, Valerie Johnson has an honesty about her work. The portraits capture the character of the person with every brush stroke in a way I’ve not seen before. I was fortunate enough to purchase one of her paintings last night, before the art world discovers her and the price rises astronomically.
‘He bought one?’ She looked at Max, hardly able to believe what she’d read.
He grinned broadly at her. ‘Yes, the one of the old lady, feeding the birds.’
She was so overwhelmed, she could feel the tears brim in her eyes.
‘Hey, come on now.’ Max put his arms around her. ‘No tears, this is a day for great joy!’
‘I am happy, honestly. It’s just so much more than I ever imagined.’
He stood up and pulled her to her feet. ‘Come on, we’re going to celebrate. Grab a jacket.’ He picked up the bag of pastries. ‘We’ll take these with us.’
They left the apartment, running out of the entrance hall, laughing and holding hands, much to the surprise of the guard on the desk.
Chapter Thirteen
As Gracie prepared dinner, she felt tense, knowing that tonight was not going to be pleasant. Jeff had made it very clear that he expected her to return to their bedroom tonight and resume the physical side of their marriage. She was equally determined that before she did so, he had to compromise.
Her stomach tightened as she heard him enter the apartment. To her surprise, he was quite affable. ‘Hi, honey, I’m home!’ He walked into the kitchen. ‘What’s for dinner?’
‘Roast beef and sponge pudding with custard,’ she replied.
‘I’ll just wash up then.’
She laid the table and served the meal. ‘Had a good day?’ she asked.
‘Yep! Been real busy, looking forward to a good evening, then bed.’ He gazed at her and she saw the look of desire in his eyes.
She said nothing until she’d served the pudding and Jeff had finished his meal. They sat in comfortable chairs to have their coffee. Gracie took a deep breath.
‘Jeff, I need to talk to you about things …’ she began.
His eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened. ‘What kind of things?’ he asked.
She tried to explain how she felt without upsetting him. ‘I know we think of things in a different way sometimes, that’s because you’ve been brought up one way and I’ve been brought up another—’ He just stared at her but said nothing.
She continued. ‘I have to feel secure. I can’t live without certainty.’
‘Nothing in life is certain, Gracie, you know that.’
‘Yes to a degree, but after all, we have a nice flat, you are working and earning, but I have to know we can meet our bills every week, otherwise I worry.’
‘Oh, we’re back on my playing poker again!’ She could hear the anger in his voice.
‘Play poker, if that’s what you want, but before you do, please make sure I have the housekeeping and money to cover the bills – that’s all I ask.’ Before he could answer she continued. ‘I don’t want this t
o come between us. I want us to be happy. Remember when you first took me to that hotel in Bournemouth? You were so kind, so understanding but now, we seem to be at cross purposes and I wonder what happened to that lovely man I knew back in England.’
His expression softened. ‘Yes, I remember. But times have changed Gracie, now we are here and life is different. I don’t want you to be unhappy, honey, but you must let me be a man in my own house. I had enough of obeying orders in the army!’
‘I’m sorry if I seemed to take charge, it’s just that I want us to have the things we planned for.’ She paused. ‘I’ve been thinking, I could get a job, that would bring in more money. I’ve applied for my green card, which being married to you I’m entitled to, apparently.’
The idea seemed to please him. ‘I think that’s great! After all, when you’ve finished decorating, what then? Working would give you something to do.’
And money, I can save, she thought, just in case things don’t work out.
The tension in the air lifted. Jeff read the paper whilst Gracie cleared away and eventually when it was time for bed, she looked at her husband.
‘So do you agree with what I said earlier?’
Jeff realised that if he didn’t, he’d be sleeping alone and, as he gazed at his wife, he felt the ache in his loins. He smiled at her. ‘Yes, honey. Let’s put this all behind us and start again.’
They lived in harmony for the following weeks. Jeff handed out her money on Friday before he went to play poker and was able to give her a few extra dollars the first week, but nothing the second. She thought he’d probably lost, but didn’t ask. In the meantime she’d applied for her green card and had asked around at the various stores to see if they needed any staff, but as yet had not succeeded in finding work. But several weeks later, on the day her card arrived, she waited until Jeff left to play poker and then rang Rick’s number, her heart beating in case her in-laws answered. To her relief it was Rick’s voice she heard.
‘Hello Rick, it’s Gracie.’