by Faver, JD
“You made a steak for Blondie?”
“I don’t want her to get her feelings hurt. She’s been my best girl up until now.”
Willa laughed. “At least you don’t have a Cherise Gilman lurking in the shadows, do you?”
He gave a mock shudder. “No way! We Foster men are very discerning. Look at my dad.”
Willa had to admit that the Fosters had one of the happiest and longest running love affairs she’d ever encountered. “Your parents are fantastic.”
“They used to tell me I was their love child but then Max came along and she was another love child.”
“I remember your mother making pottery and dying batiks in the back yard.”
“She always runs with her creative jets wide open.”
“What’s your mom doing these days?” Willa asked.
“She’s working with Dad and waiting for Max or me to make her a grandmother.”
“Your parents are so young. Didn’t Max tell me they got married in high school?”
“I told you I was their love child.” Merrick grinned at her. “That’s why they think Max and I should be settled by now. We’re old maids by their way of thinking.”
Willa glanced up at him. “You’ve got time.”
“I’ve never operated on a deadline,” he said. “When it’s right it will be right.”
Blondie followed them as they moved into the great room after dinner.
“You know what would look great over your fireplace?” Willa gestured to the vast space. “The painting Cherise destroyed and Max resurrected. It would fit right up there and lend some color to the space.”
“Yeah?” Merrick considered her suggestion and shrugged. “I guess you’re right but I’m not much on abstracts. I’d love to have one of her seascapes right there.”
“The colors would be too cool,” Willa said. “You need to warm it up a little.”
“Anytime you want to change the color scheme, just knock yourself out.”
“I couldn’t do that,” she said. “You need to choose your own colors.”
“I’d like your input.” Merrick dropped his voice and gazed into her eyes. “It would mean a lot to me.”
When he looked at her like that, Willa experienced a soft fluttery feeling inside. “I’ll give you my opinion if you’re sure you want it.”
“I want it.”
“Why don’t you show me the rest of your house?”
“Thought you’d never ask.”
He took her outside through the French doors and showed her the pool and hot tub. Although the landscaping was sparse, the bare bones design was spectacular.
Merrick walked her through the other rooms. Three bedrooms were empty and a large open loft had been converted into a media room. A huge television dominated one wall with comfortable seating on the other. Blondie jumped up on the oversized beige micro-fiber sofa and looked at Merrick expectantly.
“At least she matches the furniture,” Willa said.
“I bought it with her in mind.”
“Why did you choose such a big dog?”
“I didn’t choose Blondie,” he said. “She chose me. I got her from the Houston SPCA. When I saw her, I thought she was beautiful. She looked at me with those big brown eyes and said, ‘take me home’.”
Willa grinned at him. “She recognized a sucker when she saw you coming.”
“You’re probably right,” he said. “But she’s a great dog and I love her.” He rubbed her head affectionately.
“I think she’s the luckiest dog on earth.”
Lastly, Merrick showed her his sleeping quarters. He called it the Master Suite. Willa looked at the bedroom with attached sitting room, dressing room and bathroom.
“Wow! My whole apartment isn’t this large.” She looked around, wide-eyed.
“I’ll bet it’s a lot more colorful,” he said.
“True. I love this space, though. The whiteness is growing on me.”
“Does that mean you’ll stay?” He was standing way too close and looking way too Merrick.
She nodded her head. “For tonight. We’ll have a sleepover.”
“Okay Willa, I’ll take it one step at a time,” he said. “As long as you keep taking those little baby steps along with me.”
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
On Saturday morning Jon awoke with Millie in his arms. She looked so peaceful and relaxed. Soon she’d wake up and raise her guard again.
Last night she’d made love as though it was the last time.
He was afraid he was losing her, but he was helpless to change the future. He was trying to prevent a train wreck while standing in the middle of the tracks.
She’d been restless during the night, slipping out of bed when she thought he was sleeping. She’d stood staring out the window at the Houston skyline for some time. When she’d returned to bed she’d been careful not to disturb him, arranging the covers around him like a whisper. She’d kissed him gently and whispered that she loved him.
He had that. She loved him. But for how long?
“Good morning,” she said, stretching luxuriously.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked.
She opened one eye. “You tell me.”
“When I watch you sleep, you look so innocent,” he said. “And when you wake up there’s something in your eyes that tells me you don’t quite trust me.” He pressed his lips against her forehead. “I’m not your enemy, Millie.”
“I know,” she said. “I’m just nervous about the opening. I’ll be glad when it’s over.”
“Sweet Millie,” he said. “You’re concerned over your friend’s show.”
She bit her lip, looking as though she might cry. “You’ve done so much to make this happen. I appreciate your efforts on so many levels.” Her voice was just above a whisper.
“It’s going to be a good thing for me, too.” He brushed her hair back over her shoulder. “Max will sell his paintings and I’ll get contracts from former and new clients. We’ll both get lots of exposure. Willa and Cherise will make their commissions.” He paused and looked at her. “Everyone gets a direct payoff except my sweet Millie. What’s in it for you?”
“I...I only want the show to be successful.”
“It will be.” He stroked the side of her face with his fingertips. “Are you hungry?”
She smiled. “A little. I usually don’t wake up this early.”
“So you have no burning desire to get out of bed?”
Max laughed. “No, I’m not starving or anything.”
“In that case, stay right there. I’ll be back.”
Jon retrieved the newspaper from outside the door and started the coffeemaker before climbing back into bed with Millie.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Saturday morning ritual. I always enjoy reading the weekend newspapers in bed. I hope you’ll join me.”
“Dibs on the comics,” she said.
He brought her orange juice and coffee for himself. She did the crossword. He read the financial section. When they dressed and went out for brunch, he knew he would be willing to do whatever it took to ensure they enjoyed many more Saturday mornings together.
~*~
Willa and Merrick arrived to pick her up in the Jaunty Jetta. Willa wore an aqua slip dress accented with pearls and sequins. Max suspected she had chosen it to compliment the show-stopping red dress she had chosen for her to wear. Merrick looked masculine and elegant in a tuxedo.
Max felt a molecule of satisfaction that he did make a better Max than she did. She was dressed in her red dress and the strappy sandals. She’d practiced walking around in them, but her ankles occasionally wobbled.
“Don’t worry, Max,” Willa said. “That’s the way the fashion models strut down the runways. Just throw your hips around a lot.”
“You look really hot, Max.” Merrick winked at her. “That Jon guy doesn’t deserve such a fine babe.”
Willa shot him a sharp glance. “
Sore subject,” she whispered. “You are not to make jokes about your sister’s love life.”
“Yes, Miss Scarlett.” Merrick bobbed a mocking curtsey.
Willa’s grin banished her serious attitude. She turned to give Max her full attention. “Turn around.”
“I’m so scared,” she said. “I wish I didn’t have to go.”
Merrick, ever the big brother, folded her into a bear hug. “Well, you gotta. Who else can feed me my lines? I don’t have any crib notes so you have to stick to me like Velcro.”
“Don’t worry, Max,” Willa said. “Everything will go well. In spite of the weird stuff, this is your night. It’s all about your paintings and your talent is on display.”
“If I can survive the next few hours without falling apart, I’ll be okay.” She managed to give them a tight little smile.
“You’ll be great,” Willa said. “Let’s go.”
When they arrived at the gallery, Willa handed her keys to a parking valet who assisted her from the Jetta. Max slid out of the backseat taking a deep breath as she stood outside the brightly lit gallery. People were already milling around inside.
A thousand butterflies danced in Max’s stomach as she stepped over the threshold. She stopped cold when her gaze was drawn to the tall, dark haired man across the room.
Jon looked gorgeous in his tuxedo, sipping champagne from a flute. He was standing beside Cherise with a small group of people. Cherise looked up at Jon and laughed at something he said. She was clutching his arm.
Max drew a deep breath, releasing some of the tension in her gut. They looked good together, she reflected. Too good.
“That bitch,” Willa whispered. “Don’t stand here. Go get your man, honey.”
Max managed to stifle the tremor in her lips and smile as she approached the group.
Jon turned to her. The warmth reflected in his eyes gave her courage. He handed his champagne flute to Cherise and came to meet Max, taking her in his arms. As the small assemblage watched, Jon gave her a kiss.
Max knew she was blushing but she couldn’t suppress a wide grin. “Does this mean that you’re happy to see me?”
“You look stunning,” he said. “You’re always beautiful but this is outstanding.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
“It?” Jon looked perplexed.
“My dress.”
“The dress looks good on you, but it’s a dress, Millie. It’s you who’s beautiful.”
“People are staring,” she said.
“Let them stare.” He kissed her again before drawing her toward the group he’d been talking with.
“Who is this luscious creature, Jon?” An elderly man reached for her hand and kissed it.
Jon introduced her as his friend Millie. Cherise glowered and waved at someone across the room before abruptly leaving the group. Max heaved a sigh of relief.
When Merrick and Willa joined them, Jon introduced them as the artist and his agent.
Jon led Max to a lavish buffet set up along the back wall, close to Cherise’s office. Servers circulated with trays of appetizers and champagne while a bartender served up more serious drinks.
Jon speared a tidbit and offered it to Max.
“Yum,” she said. “This is delicious.”
“You said you liked lobster.” Jon looked around. I don’t see Dean. I want you to meet him. He did a great job on the refreshments.”
“Everything is scrumptious,” she said. “You certainly provided a lavish spread.”
“Nothing but the best.”
“Mr. Donnell,” Courtney hailed Jon with a wave. “More guests are arriving.”
“See if you can get them to sign the guest book,” Jon said.
Soon the gallery was filled with a crowd of laughing, chatting art patrons, most of whom seemed to be acquainted with each other.
Jon kept Max by his side as he interacted with the different groups of guests. Though he was clearly proud to be in her company, she was also proud to be by his side. He looked handsome in his tuxedo. Max compared his present appearance to the way he looked in his Wranglers and boots. She had to smile as she considered the choices.
Courtney waved Jon to join her as an older couple stood in front of one of her landscapes.
“I’ll be right back,” Jon said, dropping a brief kiss on her cheek.
Max felt a strange sort of detachment as she watched Willa escort Merrick through a round of introductions. He smiled and accepted the flattering words of praise on Max’s behalf.
There was a sold sign on her self portrait. She hadn’t expected it to sell. She felt a small sense of loss, as though she was saying goodbye to an old friend. Cherise had placed a sold sign beside several of the abstracts and one of her landscapes.
Max had reserved two of the paintings for herself; the seascape favored by Merrick and the huge painting commissioned by Oleg Cantwell and ravaged by Cherise. Although she was still angry over the initial destruction Max had been given a check for the damage and she owed Oleg Cantwell a painting. She wasn’t sure about the ethics of selling a damaged work of art for which she had already received payment. And she had no idea what reaction to expect from Oleg Cantwell when he saw the painting. She stood alone before her masterpiece in chaos, surveying it dispassionately. Better to start with a fresh canvas and take her chances with Oleg.
“Quite a turnout, my dear.” He spoke close to her ear, his voice still raspy and his breath against her neck stirring old memories.
“Malcolm,” she breathed. “Why did you come?”
“Max, my beloved, did you think I wouldn’t?”
She turned to face him. He’d aged; threads of silver wreathed his temples, lines around his eyes had deepened. The aquiline profile she’d once thought so noble was hateful to her now. “How did you hear about the show?”
“We have newspapers, beloved, even as far away as Austin.” He regarded her thoughtfully, his hypnotic gaze having lost its previous ability to mesmerize.
“This painting is quite powerful, Max. I knew you had this level of excellence in you.”
A muscle near her mouth twitched. “Did you now?”
He eyes grazed her in a proprietary manner. “You look lovely, even more so than before.”
“You mean when we were together?” Her voice had a hard edge. “You should leave, Malcolm. There’s nothing for you here. All of my canvasses have been signed.”
Malcolm winced, suddenly looking very old, like a tube of toothpaste that had been squeezed dry.
Max lifted her head and looked away.
A photographer and reporter from the Chronicle arrived and Willa motioned for Max to join her. Max walked to her side without glancing back at Malcolm. She held her head high, daring her ankles to waver in the slender spike heels. Exhaling a thready breath, she gave Willa a tremulous smile.
“Easy, baby,” Willa whispered. “I can’t believe Malcolm Reed had the nerve to show up here. Let’s turn around and give them our big old Miss America smiles.” She arranged Max beside Merrick and tucked herself under his other arm, insisting that all photographs include the three of them.
Willa then latched on to the reporter who came to review the show, gave him a press release and Max’s bio and led him around the gallery. The photographer followed them, taking his directions from Willa.
Malcolm drained his champagne flute and, giving Max a long last look, left the gallery.
Taking a deep breath, Max felt a slight twinge of remorse for past mistakes.
“What do you think?” Merrick asked.
“I’m dizzy from trying to figure things out,” Max said. “But, I’m sure Willa has everything under control.”
Merrick regarded Willa from across the room. “She is amazing, isn’t she?”
“What’s going on with you and Willa?” Max asked.
“We’re seeing each other. That’s all.”
“It’s more than that,” she said. “I can see how much you care, Merrick. Don�
�t screw this up. She’s not like your usual sequential girlfriends. Take it slow.”
“I know that,” he said. “I don’t think she’s in any hurry. She’d likely cut and run if I moved too fast.”
She emitted an unladylike snort. “You’ve never moved fast in any relationship. I don’t think you know what the next step is supposed to be.”
He raised his brows, slanting a quizzical look at her. “Don’t give me relationship advice, Max. I think you need to get your life sorted out first.”
She gave a long sigh and then leaned into the hug he offered. “I know I suck at this relationship thing.”
“If this Jon guy is right for you, he’ll think you walk on water, no matter what you do.”
At last Willa strolled back to where they stood.
“You’ve sold half a dozen paintings already. Not bad for one night.” She gave Max a squeeze.
“And someone got my little misty seascape,” Merrick lamented. Max didn’t tell him she’d reserved it for him.
Some of the patrons were leaving as others arrived. They wanted to say goodbye to Jon and Cherise as well as the artist, ‘Max Foster’.