“That bad?” she asked, laughing.
“I need to talk my parents into coming here next time instead.” I tried not to sound overly interested as I casually said, “So, you never mentioned that Johnny has a kid.”
She averted her eyes from me. “I didn’t?”
I smirked at her. “No. I ran into him at the gas station. He seems really happy, though. I’m happy for him.”
“Finally he got over you…maybe. It only took him about 10 years.”
“It wasn’t easy for me either.”
“I know. That’s why I don’t bring him up.”
“So, when are you going back to work?” I asked her suddenly.
“Next month. Don’t change the subject.”
I got up to pour myself another cup of coffee.
“I thought we were done talking about Johnny,” I told her.
“We are, but we’re not done talking about your love life.”
I threw my head back and took a deep breath out of frustration.
“Have you talked to your flame from Paris?”
“No.”
“Let me guess. He can’t let you go, and you’re blowing him off?”
“I didn’t make him any promises.”
She shook her head. “I give up for now.”
“Good.”
We spent the rest of the day shopping while Phil stayed home with the kids. Monica needed some new clothes for her return to the professional world. I never dreamed she would end up being a psychiatrist, but she was very successful at it, and she loved it. She always enjoyed trying to get people to open up to her, but it drove her crazy that she could never crack me open.
The next few weeks were pretty boring. Business at the gallery was moderate. The summer tourist season was coming to a close, so sales usually went down and didn’t pick back up again until the holidays. However, I had a few leads in conjunction with Veronica’s decorating projects. She always recommended the artwork from my gallery to her clients.
Aside from that, most of my evenings were spent at home in my apartment, fiddling around, drawing, drinking wine, and cozying up with my cat in front of the television or the computer. Not too exciting. Occasionally I would have drinks with Jessica and Patrick, or I would meet up with Veronica. I was content with this. There for a while, when I was younger, I would go out nearly every night, but I no longer had the energy or desire for that.
To break the monotony, I decided to host another wine and cheese party at the gallery. It was a fun way to draw some more attention to the artwork and lure in some more adventurous potential customers. I had good luck with these parties in the past.
I proposed the idea to Jessica and Patrick, and they loved it, so we eagerly began to make our plans. Patrick even suggested that we have a violinist play this time. He had a friend who would give us a good deal on the fee. I thought that it was an excellent idea. We advertised at all of the strategic places and called upon everyone we knew who could help us out with the various arrangements at a reasonable price. I was thrilled about how well everything had easily fallen into place. I took it as a sign that the event would be successful.
When the time came around, I thought that my gallery had never looked so beautiful. All of the lighting had been strategically placed to provide a romantic ambience, while still prominently displaying the gallery’s spectacular artwork. The music the violinist played fit the mood perfectly. I also hired a couple of waiters to serve wine and hors d’oeuvres. Once everything was in order, I prayed that we would have a good turnout.
A few people wandered in during the first thirty minutes. They seemed to be impressed, but they didn’t stay long before they left for dinner or wherever they were going. We only seemed to be attracting people who were passing by. I grew tired of pacing the floor, so I asked for another glass of red wine.
“Save some for the customers,” Patrick teased me.
“I’m nervous.”
“Don’t be. I got a lot of positive responses to the invitations. They’ll come.”
“I hope so. Your violinist friend is good.”
“He told me that he prefers to play in the nude.”
I laughed and almost spit out my drink of wine. “Thanks. Now I’ll be picturing that all night,” I said.
Patrick smiled and went to greet the next guests that came in, shaking hands with them and leading them to the bar. It ended up that he was right. Over the next couple of hours, we became extremely busy. We even made a few profitable sales. I wasn’t sure if it was the artwork, the atmosphere, or the alcohol, but something was definitely working. I could feel my spirits being lifted tremendously.
I was enjoying a conversation with a couple from New York, who was seriously considering the purchase of my one of my most expensive items by a local artist, when Jessica interrupted me.
“Sarah, I’m sorry, but there’s a gentleman here asking for you.”
I smiled at my guests politely. I was so close to a big sale that I didn’t want to break the momentum. “Now’s not a good time,” I whispered to her as the couple continued to admire the painting.
“He’s being very persistent. He’s the one I told you about, the old…I mean elderly man who came in while you were in Paris. He’s back.”
I glanced behind me and saw the man in the wheelchair, with a younger woman who appeared to be his nurse standing behind him. The man looked stern and impatient.
“Is he asking about the ‘Priscilla’ drawing again?”
Jessica nodded. “He insists on talking to the person who drew it.”
I asked my prospective buyers to excuse me while I attended to an urgent matter, and I put my faith in Jessica to close the deal. I approached the man slowly, feeling guilty that I wouldn’t be able to sell ‘Priscilla’ to him, but there was no way I would ever part with that drawing, not for any amount of money. Despite his age and his condition, he had a look in his eyes that told me he was the kind of person one never wanted to reckon with. He had a commanding presence.
I decided that charm would be the best technique with him, although it probably wouldn’t work. I tried to look relaxed and gave him a big smile, putting my hand out to shake. “Hi. I’m Sarah Martin. I’m told that…”
He quickly interrupted me, “William Blanchard,” he said, shaking my hand firmly. His nurse smiled at me, and I nodded back, waiting for Mr. Blanchard to continue.
“There’s a drawing I want to purchase, but the young lady over there said that it’s no longer for sale.”
“I already sold it actually. I’m sorry.”
He looked angry. “I told her to hold it for me.”
I felt so guilty for lying, but I continued. “She didn’t realize that I already had a buyer.”
He squinted at me. “I would never have been a successful businessman if I couldn’t tell when someone was bluffing.”
I averted my eyes.
“She said that you drew it,” he continued.
“I did.”
“You copied it from a picture?”
“No,” I said defiantly. “I never do that.”
“Impossible.”
“Why’s that?” What was this man’s deal? I was feeling defensive. Did he think that I wasn’t talented enough?
“How old are you?” he asked.
“Excuse me?” Who did he think he was, making me feel so belittled in my own gallery? I was about to wheel him out myself. I glanced at his nurse, who just smiled at me, as if she were used to how blunt he was.
“You look only about 25 years old,” he said.
“I’m…older than that, but I don’t see why that’s….”
“The beautiful lady that you drew, Priscilla…” He started to look emotional and paused before he continued, “She was my wife, and she died in 1978.”
I couldn’t move as I felt my face turn burning hot. I should have seen it coming. Priscilla’s husband. I remembered that he was an older man, that he was wealthy, and that I attended the party with the spirits
in his house. How was I going to explain to him how I knew Priscilla? I couldn’t think of what to say as he stared me down, wanting an explanation. The nurse looked at me with curiosity.
“Were you a toddler when you drew her?” he asked with a chuckle.
I looked at him seriously. “No, I wasn’t.”
I wasn’t going to continue playing games with him. He didn’t deserve that. Priscilla loved him so much. Could she see us now? I never felt her presence after she left, but being with her husband made me feel close to her again.
Neither of us spoke for a moment. I sat down on the sofa next to his wheelchair.
Finally, he said, “You know, I could never let go of her. Years later I remarried and had children. I was able to move on, but it took a long time.”
I knew exactly what he meant.
He went on, “She used to visit me you know, after she died. I had to stop telling people that, though, so that they wouldn’t think I was a lunatic,” he smiled. “So, you knew Priscilla.”
I nodded while trying not to cry.
“Most of my pictures of her were in storage and destroyed in the earthquake of ’89.”
Reluctantly, I decided that I should give him the drawing. Priscilla probably would have wanted that.
“You keep it,” he said suddenly.
“No, you should have it,” I told him, trying to smile through my tears.
“She had an effect on you too. I can tell. The drawing really captured her spirit.”
I smiled at him. “She was a beautiful woman, inside and out.”
“Yes, she was. Well, I need to get home now. Don’t want my wife to think I’m out gallivanting,” he said with a grin.
“It was so nice to meet you,” I said as we shook hands.
“You too.”
As the nurse began wheeling him away, he held up his finger to stop, and she turned him around to face me again.
“One more thing,” he said. “That heart on her arm. Why is it there? She didn’t have any tattoos.”
I smiled as I remembered Priscilla adding it to the drawing. “It was an afterthought.”
He laughed. “I always told her that she wore her heart on her sleeve.”
I stood there, flabbergasted as I watched him leave. It felt so strange to meet the man Priscilla loved so much. I had to smile. I always wondered why she added that heart. Jessica placed her hand on my arm, jarring me out of my trance.
“I sold the painting!” she told me, her eyes bright with excitement.
“Huh?” It took me a moment to remember the couple from New York. “Oh. That’s great. Good job!”
“Are you OK?”
“I’m fine,” I assured her.
“He was pissed that your drawing’s not for sale.”
“He understands now.” I smiled at her. “Come on. Let’s have a toast to celebrate your big sale!”
The rest of the evening at the gallery was a blur.
“Unbelievable,” said Veronica when I called her late that night.
“I know.”
“Do you think he knew? It sounds like he did.”
There was not one detail of all my experience with spirituality that I hadn’t eventually shared with Veronica over the years. She still told me all about her experiences as well.
“Yeah. I think we had an understanding,” I told her.
“Wow.”
“It brought back a lot of memories, just like my recent trip to Willows.”
“Just don’t think about it too much. Don’t let the past consume you.”
“I try not to. It just seems like the past won’t let go of me.”
Veronica was silent. My cat, Priscilla, was on my lap as I sat up on my bed, surfing the Internet on my laptop as I talked.
“What about you?” I asked her. “Any visitors lately?”
She giggled. “Remember that old house by the bay that I’ve been working on? Well, there’s one spirit there that’s been playing games with me.”
I smiled. Veronica handled herself very well around ghosts, having become more used to them over the years. When redecorating old homes, she would often have encounters.
“What happened?” I asked.
“I took down some old photographs of the lady’s grandmother, fully intending to put them back up after the room was repainted. I left the house for just an hour to go get some lunch, and when I came back, they were back on the wall.”
“You sure no one else had been there?”
“The only other person with a key was the owner, and she was out of town.”
“What did you do?”
“I tried talking to the grandmother, assuming it was her who did it, but she was too afraid I guess, to present herself to me. I took out the paint can and brushed a sample on the wall to show her how pretty it would look, but as soon as I brushed it on, she knocked over the paint can. It made a huge freakin’ mess on the floor, and I yelled and cussed at her. I began cleaning it up, and once I turned around; I saw that she had painted something on the wall.”
I was fascinated, as I was with all of Veronica’s stories. I had never seen another spirit since Ethan.
“What did she paint?”
“She wrote ‘I don’t like red’.”
I laughed loudly. “So did you take her advice?”
“I changed it to baby blue, and she was happy with that. I convinced the owner that it was a better choice.”
“So the spirits are helping you decorate. That’s classic.”
Veronica laughed.
“We need to get together with Monica soon, now that she’ll be working downtown again. We should meet up for lunch.”
“Sounds good. I’ll give her a call.”
“OK. Love ya. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight. Talk to you soon.”
I continued searching the Internet until I started to get very sleepy. I pulled up information, along with several pictures of William Blanchard. I probably would have looked him up years ago if I had known Priscilla’s last name. I did go by the old mansion once I moved to San Francisco, but I never rang the doorbell. I tried to keep myself from being obsessed with the spirits I met. Many times over the years I would pull up the old article about Ethan and stare at his picture until I began to tear up. It was a hard habit to break when it was right at my fingertips.
Only now I was allowing myself to search again, and I came upon an old picture of William and his stunning bride, Priscilla. They looked so elegant and happy. I would never understand why a love like that had to end. Sure it was Priscilla’s fault that she overdosed, but she clearly didn’t want to die.
I closed my laptop and went to sleep with my beautiful, furry Priscilla purring at my side.
32. Enchantment
I couldn’t help gloating over the gallery’s recent success. Customers were still flowing in after Saturday’s party and word-of-mouth advertising was working again. Patrick told me that we could now afford to hire more help, allowing us to stay open later and continue to bring in the evening strollers. I felt like celebrating. I called Monica to set up lunch with her and Veronica. We decided on a new steakhouse/bar called Bamberger’s that was nearby. It looked like a fun place. I arrived late as usual, since I was trying to finish another sale at the gallery. They were already seated at a booth by the window. I took a seat next to Monica, facing the back of the restaurant. I gave her a hug and kissed Veronica’s cheek from across the table.
“Cool place,” I said, taking in my surroundings. “Sorry I’m late. Like I said, business has really picked up.” They both congratulated me. “How about you?” I asked Monica. “Have you adjusted to being back to the grind?”
“Luckily, I don’t think of it that way. I missed talking with my patients. Only now I miss my kids, but we’re adjusting, and we need the money so…”
I nodded with understanding.
“So, what’s on the menu? I’m treating both of you today.”
They tried to protest, but I wouldn
’t let them.
“I’m starving,” said Veronica. “I’m going to order this huge steak salad, and I don’t have any other obligations this afternoon, so I might even have a drink.”
“Me too,” I said. “I’ll have the salad. I have to run to the ladies room, though. Please order for me if I’m not back in time.”
“What do you want to drink?” asked Veronica as I was getting up.
“How about…a beer?”
“A beer?” Monica asked with a laugh.
“Yeah. I walked over here,” I explained with a grin.
Before I left the ladies room, I took a good look at myself in the mirror, realizing that I looked much better when I was happy. I was also having a good hair day and was wearing a new summer wrap dress, white with flowers, that fit me just right, and heels that didn’t hurt my feet too much when I walked. I touched myself up and headed back to the table.
The girls looked like they were sharing a funny secret when I returned.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“Monica,” explained Veronica. “I didn’t realize what a dirty mind she has.”
“You don’t know that by now?” Monica asked, still chuckling.
“Why’s that?”
“Her comment about our waiter,” Veronica said.
“Well, he must be cute. You two are giggling like schoolgirls.”
“Yes, he is,” Veronica said seductively. Then she looked behind me and smiled. “Here he comes with our drinks,” she whispered.
Just then my cell phone rang. It was Jessica. I told her to call me if anything urgent came up at the gallery. “Uh oh. I better take this. I’ll be right back.”
I quickly jumped up and turned around to head outside, still looking down at my phone to open it and answer, just as our waiter was bringing our tray of drinks. I didn’t see him coming and smacked right into him, causing him to spill his tray. We both gasped as I felt the cold beers soaking the front of my dress, while the glass had shattered all over the floor. I was so embarrassed and could feel my red hot face. Why couldn’t I watch where I was going?
“I am so sorry,” I told him as my eyes looked up and saw his face. He was also very panicked and embarrassed. However, the girls were right. He was so attractive that all I could do was gawk at him for a moment. He was somewhat taller than me, with dark, almost jet black hair that was short, but long enough to be styled up. He had the perfect build too. You could tell that he worked out, but didn’t overdo it. He also looked fairly young.
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