Canvas for Love

by Charlotte Greene

  “Once again, thank you all for coming. Cake will be served shortly. My daughter Emma will now read the names of the highest bidders for our auctioned items. Whether you won tonight or not, please remember to take a moment before you leave to make a donation to Art for the People.”

  Once again, she seemed reluctant to give up her position at the center of attention, but Emma managed to take the microphone from her a moment later. She was holding a piece of paper and began reading off the names, items, and prices people had paid for them. I was flabbergasted by the amounts people had bid for the auction items and quickly lost track of how much money was raised. Instead, I listened in mounting disbelief as each item’s winning bid was read. Even Emma’s donation—a Tarantino film poster signed by the cast and director—went for tens of thousands of dollars. I wasn’t the only person in the room to be impressed by the totals, as everyone began clapping louder and louder the longer Emma read. There were a few whistles from the crowd at the biggest bid—over a hundred thousand dollars—on a tiny Calder painting Amelia had donated.

  “Finally,” Emma said, and then paused, waiting for the room to quiet down a little. “Finally, the last item, donated by the New Orleans Travel Group: an all-inclusive vacation to sunny Puerto Vallarta.” She paused, and then her face broke into a wide smile. “The winning bid of twenty thousand dollars goes to Dr. Chloé Deveraux.”

  I was stunned. I’d donated a hundred dollars to the general fund, but I certainly hadn’t made that bid. I looked over at Bobby, and he was grinning widely, clapping as loudly as everyone else in the room. He must have seen something in my face, as I saw his smile falter. He stopped clapping and leaned closer to me.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “I didn’t make that bid, Bobby,” I said. “I don’t have twenty thousand dollars.”

  His face clouded with anger. “What the hell?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know what happened. Is someone playing a joke?”

  He sighed. “I hope not.” Seeing my dismay, he patted my arm. “Don’t worry about it, Chloé. We’ll get to the bottom of it.”

  Despite his reassurances, my stomach was a sudden knot of tension. I excused myself and walked as quickly as I could out of the room just to get away from everyone. Of course I knew that I wouldn’t be accountable for money I hadn’t bid, but that didn’t help me feel any better. What bothered me primarily was the thought that someone had done this to me. I’d known since we got together that being with Amelia meant sacrificing a lot of my privacy—we would always be in the public eye. But until now, I’d never recognized that it was more than having my picture in the paper all the time. It also meant incurring the petty meanness of the public. Someone had done this to me simply because I was with Amelia. The thought was sickening and sad.

  I had to search the ground floor for a while to find somewhere to be alone. Staff members were walking around, busy moving trays of plates and glasses from the dining room. I remembered a little butler’s pantry down the hallway to the kitchen and found it blissfully empty. There was a little stool in there, and I sat down on it heavily, putting my face in my hands. A moment later the door opened and Amelia came in, looking upset. She walked the two or three steps and then knelt in front of me despite her gown. She clutched my hands in hers.

  “Chloé, I’m so sorry. Bobby told me what happened.”

  I shook my head. “It’s not your fault, Amelia. Someone just has a sick sense of humor.”

  “That doesn’t make it right. I can’t imagine why someone would do this.”

  I sighed. “I can: jealousy. They see us, they know that we’re happy, and they’re jealous of our happiness. People can’t stand it when other people enjoy themselves when they’re miserable.”

  “Well, you don’t have to worry about the money. Bobby is talking with the auction committee now, and he’ll explain what happened.”

  A little tension went out of my shoulders. I’d known the situation would be taken care of, but it was still nice to hear. But then I suddenly realized just how terrible Amelia looked up close. In the forgiving light of the ballroom and the reception hall, she’d looked tired and worn, but here in the harsh glare of the light in this pantry, I could see that the problem was deeper than that. She was clearly exhausted. She’d done what she could to hide her fatigue with makeup, but her eyes were deeply sunken and bloodshot. Her face looked strained and wan.

  “My God, Amelia,” I said. “You look like you’re about ready to drop.”

  Her shrug was unconvincing.

  “I mean it. You should be at home in bed. Why don’t we just leave?”

  Her laugh was bitter. “I wish we could, but really, I can’t. This event is mostly mine, after all. I still have to get people to open their wallets for my cause.”

  “Can’t you put your cause to rest for the night? You’ve already made so much money. You’re going to make yourself really sick if you keep pushing.”

  I saw temptation pass in and out of her eyes, but she finally shook her head. “It will be at least two more hours before we can call it a night.” She got to her feet and held out her hand. “Come on. We have some people to schmooze together.”

  I took her hand and stood up, smiling. “We can go out together now?”

  She smiled weakly. “I no longer care what my mother thinks. We’ve been following her rules all night, and I’m sick of it. I told Emma to go find Bobby, too. My mother’s being ridiculous, as usual.”

  Amelia moved toward the door, but I grabbed her arm to hold her back. She turned, obviously confused, and I grinned at her.

  “Do we have to go back so soon?” I asked. “Couldn’t we hide in here for a while?”

  Her face lit up, and she stepped closer before slipping her arms around me. She kissed me gently, then nibbled on my bottom lip, and a little sigh of pleasure escaped my throat.

  “We might have a couple of minutes to ourselves,” she whispered.

  “Only a couple?”

  She met my eyes, her expression dark with desire. “I don’t think it’ll take longer than that, do you?”

  My stomach dropped, and I swallowed before shaking my head. She was right—it wouldn’t take long. Between not seeing her for the last two weeks and being kept apart all day today, my body had been clamoring for her for what felt like decades. Generally, as long as I kept my mind off her, I could keep myself under control, but when I was around her, all I wanted to do was tear our clothes off and ease my wild craving for her.

  She moved her lips back to my neck, and I lifted my chin to give her access to my exposed skin. Her kisses felt incredible, but I couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. She was obviously exhausted. Still, I didn’t think I could make it all night without something like this.

  Her hands slid my dress up, bunching it at my waist and exposing my legs. Finally, her fingertips brushed the outside of my underwear. My entire body jolted at her touch, and she chuckled.

  “A little worked up?” she whispered.

  I could do nothing but nod, my desire so strong it was choking me.

  She knelt to pull my underwear off, flinging them into a corner of the pantry. She stayed down there on the ground, her hands on my thighs, just looking. I put my hands on her shoulders, forcing myself to just keep them there. I was trembling, and some of my anxiety clearly communicated itself to her. She gave me a wicked grin and then leaned forward for a taste.

  I could have screamed when her lips touched me. Just about anything would have set me off right then, and her kiss and her strong tongue instantly drove me crazy. Knowing that a crew of busy people was walking by, mere feet from us out in the hallway, I only just managed to stifle a moan. I had to put my hand over my mouth and bite down on my palm, hard, to silence myself.

  Amelia’s fingers started tracing up my legs, and when she finally slid one finger up inside me, I immediately started to come. The sounds escaping me were muffled and strangled by my hand, but still audible. The pleasure w
as so glorious, at that moment, I would have screamed and shared it with the world if I hadn’t had my wits about me. The orgasm pulsed through me, fast and hard, my insides clenching around Amelia’s finger. Finally, the shudders of my climax began to lessen.

  She stopped and I sagged onto her, bracing myself with my hands on her shoulders. A moment later she rose, her smile so self-satisfied you might have thought she’d just won the lottery.

  “See,” she said. “I told you it would be fast.”

  I clutched at her, drawing her into a kiss, and maneuvered a little so I could rub on her leg. She let me continue for a moment and then stepped back, laughing lightly.

  “You’ll have to wait for more, my darling. Don’t you remember? We’re supposed to be somewhere right now.”

  I could have cried in frustration. “But, Amelia—”

  She lifted a finger to my lips. “No buts. There’s more where that came from when we get home tonight. Now let me help you put your hair back in place.”

  After we helped each other look as composed as possible, we were ready to exit the pantry. She’d insisted on leaving my underwear here—she’d pick them up later. She told me she wanted to know I wasn’t wearing any as we walked around her parents’ house.

  We pushed open the door and stepped into the hall, and I met the eyes of several guilty-looking staff members. They all tried to pretend they hadn’t been listening to us and scurried away, and Amelia gave me an amused glance. I was mortified, but it takes a lot more than that to rattle her.

  Back in the ballroom, I saw heads swivel our way as we passed several tables, the two of us holding hands. Hot under their gaze, I was still fixated on what had just happened. I couldn’t tell if everyone knew what we’d just done, but it seemed like all of them did. Rumors spread quickly in this kind of crowd. Also, the confused gears were clearly in motion again, judging by some baffled expressions. It would appear to strangers that I’d moved from Billy to Bobby and then on to his sister, and I couldn’t help but feel a twisted sense of satisfaction. It served them right for making assumptions.

  Head high, oblivious to the looks we were getting, Amelia led me directly toward the largest group of men, all of whom were milling around Hilda Winters. Hilda’s face fell when she spotted me with Amelia, but she quickly covered up her dismay with a phony smile.

  “And here’s my lovely daughter and her…friend,” she said, gesturing toward us.

  The crowd opened up a little to allow us entry, and all of their faces turned toward us with unconcealed curiosity. Amelia clutched my hand tighter, her palm a little sweaty, and I was surprised to realize that she was nervous, too. Just looking at her would suggest that she was unfazed by anything or anyone, but, as I’d come to understand the last few months, a lot of her confidence was simply a very good front for her real feelings.

  “Gentlemen,” Amelia said, “thank you so much for attending. I’m here with Dr. Deveraux here to answer any questions you might have about Art for the People.”

  About half an hour later, she’d managed to get a check from every single person there, and as we walked away, we also left Hilda behind us, looking deflated and lessened by the experience. Her daughter was clearly better at this than she was, and she knew it. I couldn’t help but worry that this might cause some strife later, but for the moment, it was good to see Hilda put in her place.

  Amelia handed the pile of checks to one of the stewards, and we turned around together just as Bobby approached us.

  “It’s all taken care of,” he said, handing Amelia a small envelope. He turned to me. “So don’t worry about it anymore, okay?”

  “Did I miss something? What’s taken care of?” I asked.

  “The auction,” Amelia replied. “I asked Bobby to sort out your fake bid.”

  “So what happened?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “We don’t know who actually made the bid. The handwriting on the form looked feminine to me, but I can’t be sure. I asked the committee to talk to the stewards to see if anyone remembers something, but I’m not holding my breath. We probably won’t ever know who did it.” He looked back at Amelia. “Anyway, I simply exceeded the next highest bid, and the auction committee was satisfied. They told me we don’t even need to announce the change since it was clearly a fake.”

  “Wait,” I said, confused, “what do you mean?” Suddenly, his words came together in my mind, and I realized what he meant. I looked back and forth between the two of them several times, alarm mounting. “You mean you had to pay them? Why couldn’t it just go to the next-highest bidder?”

  Bobby shook his head. “We tried that, but he didn’t want the trip anymore. The committee told me it often works that way when mistakes like this happen. People bid, but they’re also sort of relieved to be outbid, too. Anyway, he didn’t want to pay, so I covered it.”

  “Just let me know how much, and I’ll pay you back,” Amelia told him.

  “Wait, wait,” I said, a hand to my forehead. “I still don’t understand. If the next bidder didn’t want it, why not just tell the travel agency what happened?”

  They were both staring at me as if I’d just suggested that they drive over someone’s cat. They glanced at each other, seeming equally confused.

  “Because if we did that,” Amelia said, choosing her words carefully, “they’d never donate anything to our charities again.”

  “And if we reneged on payment altogether, we’d have the auction committee after us.”

  I was floored. Somehow in their world, paying for an item none of us had bid on—a situation that was clearly a poor practical joke or worse—was still more important than looking bad to strangers. It was a mind-set so foreign to anything I’d grown up with, I could barely fathom it. And yet, to judge from their expressions, it was so normal for them as to seem utterly obvious.

  “So how much did you have to pay them?” I asked, anger mounting despite myself.

  Bobby’s face broke into a wide smile. “That’s the real beauty of it. The next highest bidder was much lower than the fake bid. I had to go over it by only a hundred dollars, and the committee called it even.”

  “You still haven’t answered me.” Something in my voice must have finally made both of them realize how upset I was, as I saw their eyebrows lift in surprise, but they still looked confused.

  “Eight thousand, one hundred dollars,” Bobby said.

  “Eight thousand dollars!” I shouted. I was loud enough to cause several people to look our way, and I lowered my voice. “Eight thousand? Are you kidding me?”

  He shrugged. “It was fair, Chloé. And remember, all of that money goes to charity. So Amelia gets a tax write-off, and you both get a trip out of it.”

  I was speechless. My mouth opened and closed as I tried to speak, but no words came. Amelia touched my shoulder, and I turned toward her so quickly she actually flinched.

  “Do you have any idea how ridiculous this is to me?” I demanded.

  She nodded but looked uncertain. “I’m starting to see that, honey, but I don’t understand why you’re so put out. There was a problem and we solved it.”

  “With eight thousand dollars,” I said. “For a trip we didn’t want.”

  “Actually,” she said, “I did want that trip. I bid on it myself.”

  “For how much?”

  “Seven thousand.” She said this in the same way I might say twenty or thirty dollars, and I was once again struck by the vast, immeasurable distance between our two stations in life. She’d grown up with a kind of wealth I could barely understand, and she’d also made a fortune as a businesswoman. Amelia had never been in a position to worry about paying rent or making a car payment or paying a bill, and even if she stopped working today, she would never be in that position. She could live on what she had right now for the rest of her life and several subsequent lives, comfortably. Seven or eight thousand dollars wasn’t even a drop in the bucket for her. In fact, the thousand-dollar difference between seven and eight
thousand hardly registered. While I could understand this mind-set intellectually—after all, it wasn’t her fault she was born into wealth—that didn’t necessarily help me feel entirely easy with her solution. Many, many times we’d had little and sometimes large misunderstandings entirely related to the fact that she was wealthy and I was not. I knew I could be with her for years and years and never understand this part of her fully.

  My anger deflated, but I still felt sickened. Someone had pulled a joke on us, and we were stuck paying for it. Someone, perhaps someone looking at us right now, had seen our happiness and decided to throw something at it. We were lucky Amelia could meet this challenge without batting an eyelash, but it depressed me, too. Would we always be under scrutiny like we were now? Would there always be people trying to wreck things for us?

  I’d been quiet long enough that both Amelia and Bobby were beginning to look nervous, as if I might fly off the handle at any moment. I gave them both a weak smile and shrugged.

  “I get it,” I told them. “I don’t agree with it, but I get it.”

  Amelia’s face brightened and she gave my hand a quick squeeze. “I’m glad. It’s only fair, after all. And don’t worry—if I find out who put that bid in for you, I’ll sue her so fast your head will spin.”

  I laughed and hugged her, some of my uncertainty melting with her ruthlessness. I’d read about some of her lawsuits and knew she always won. That was the kind of person she was and the kind of lawyers she kept.

  “And hey,” she said, meeting my eyes, “there’s a silver lining here, too. Now we get to go to Puerto Vallarta.”