by R. L. Naquin
I was pleased, of course. But also a little concerned. “What’s up with you, buddy?” Not for the first time, I wished I didn’t have to be a silent, invisible witness to a client’s success. “This isn’t just from going to the cemetery yesterday .”
He stopped in front of the canvas with his brush held in midair. “When this is done, I’m going to dedicate it to my brother.” He dabbed the brush in a speck of white paint, dragging it into a little pink and swirling it together .
“Your brother?” I took a step toward him, frowning. “You have a brother ?”
“He always knows how to put things in perspective. I’m glad I saw him. I needed a kick in the ass.” He stroked the brush in the center of Charlotte’s lip .
I hadn’t gotten used to the fact that he often answered me when I spoke. But if it gave me answers, I wasn’t above using the anomaly. “I thought you were all alone. Damn, Gordon. I’d have found your brother and brought him over here days ago if I’d known .”
I wasn’t sure how I would have made that happen, but I’d have done it. It had to be simpler than pulling a heist in a doctor’s office to get a look at medical records, and I’d damn near done that for him .
Gordon hummed a few notes, then rolled off to check out a drawing of Charlotte holding a puppy .
Apparently, he was done answering me .
I pulled out my bubbles. Maybe a few well-placed thought bubbles would get him to talk a little more about his brother .
The front door slammed, and Gordon and I both froze .
“Shit.” He bolted out of the room and closed the door .
“Shit.” I agreed with him. Now was not a time for Elizabeth to see what was going on in here and get her panties in a bunch about whether or not what he was creating suited her gallery owner’s expectations .
I moved quickly, flipping off my invisibility and gathering the many faces of Charlotte. The pile fit neatly under a drop cloth .
“I only want to take a quick peek, Gordon. For goodness sake. You’ve always let me in on your process.” Elizabeth’s voice was muffled through the door, but getting closer .
I pulled a smaller, blank canvas from a stack by the windows and swapped it out with Gordon’s current work. The doorknob turned, and I froze .
Fully visible, I stood in the center of the room with the unfinished painting in my hands. Gordon’s face appeared in the small opening of the door and our eyes met .
He slammed the door shut. “Really, Elizabeth. I wish you’d let me have a little privacy to do my work.” He sounded as if he were pressed against the door blocking her way .
“What the hell is wrong with you? You’re acting so weird .”
The doorknob turned again, but the door didn’t open .
My feet unstuck themselves from the floor and I carried the canvas to the opposite corner of the room where a lot of other paintings were propped against the wall. I tilted it with its front facing away from prying eyes at an angle that kept the wet paint from being touched. Then I placed a few older paintings against the back of it as camouflage. As the door swung open, I hit the button on my belt and disappeared .
Elizabeth burst in, pushing Gordon aside. She eyed the blank canvas, then scanned the room. “I thought you said you were working. There’s nothing here .”
Gordon gave a dramatic sigh and spread his arms wide. “I’m an artist. Thinking is an important part of my process. You interrupted my work .”
She pressed her lips together in a rigid line of bright red matte lipstick. “Don’t screw with me, Gordon. I need something from you soon, or they’re going to cancel the contract .”
He gave her a charming smile. “Then I guess you should leave me to it, don’t you think ?”
“I’d better see some progress on Monday.” She turned on her heel and left without saying goodbye .
I really wanted to be understanding. I’d caught a vulnerability in her yesterday that tugged at my heart and made me want to think better of her .
But she really was a bitch .
Gordon looked up at the ceiling, a wistful look on his face. “Thank you,” he whispered .
I shivered. That time I knew he was talking to me .
And it almost sounded like a prayer .
Chapter 16
A fter Elizabeth left, there wasn’t anything more for me to do. Gordon didn’t need my help to find where I’d hidden all his stuff, and once he set everything up again, he got to work without any prodding from me .
As Muses went, I was hardly inspirational. But I’d saved the painting from being snatched away by a disapproving manager. If she’d let him paint what he wanted to paint instead of enforcing her own vision of his “brand” on him, he might’ve been done by now .
After watching him rough in a bit on Charlotte’s left shoulder and part of her arm, I stretched my back and rubbed my eyes. “As awesome as it is to see you making progress, you don’t really need me here. I’m going to leave you to it .”
He grunted softly as he mixed colors on his palette to create the perfect shade for the skin on Charlotte’s collarbone. Other than that, he didn’t acknowledge either my words or my presence .
I was back to not knowing if he knew I was there or not .
“Have a good weekend, buddy. See you Monday.” I gave him a wave with my invisible hand and left .
Despite having been spotted again by my client, it had been a good morning—the first I’d had in awhile. And apparently, whatever Gordon’s mental condition was, it kept his seeing me from being an issue. So, at least this one thing in my life was going well .
As long as he didn’t die first, Gordon was on his way to making the deadline .
I cringed at the thought. Despite his emotional issues and diva tantrums, I’d grown attached to Gordon. I still held on to the hope that his “imminent death” was years away. If he could get through this thing with Charlotte and start to heal, maybe there would be lots of gallery showings .
Maybe this painting I was supposed to help him with was a new beginning, not a final work .
What if the painting was what was supposed to save him ?
“That’s got to be it.” I started the car and headed to Mom’s house, sure I’d figured out a riddle that had been hiding in plain sight. “I have to help him with the painting before his imminent death. Sure. Because without the painting—without the healing that the painting will bring—he was going to die .”
It all made sense now. That was what Trina had tried to tell me. He wasn’t sick—I knew that. But I’d assumed he was going to be in some sort of accident. No. He was going to kill himself. But now he wasn’t .
Sure. It was a huge leap in logic, but it felt right. Trina had been trying to warn me of Gordon’s suicide. And there was a good chance now that he wouldn’t do it .
Just to be sure, I’d check in on him over the weekend. I didn’t want to take the chance that he’d slip into a depression again. Not when he was doing so much better .
“Not on this Muse’s watch.” I smiled, feeling better than I had in days .
P hyllis was sound asleep when I came in. It was only three in the afternoon, but her soft snores were unmistakable. I didn’t want to disturb her, but I still had to check on her .
Even without taking out a ruler for an even surface, I could eyeball the mark on the wall and see that her highest point was a good two inches above it. I’d been gone less than eight hours, and she’d grown two inches .
I wrinkled my forehead in worry and gently touched the soil in her pot. It was moist enough to keep her from dehydrating. Better to let her sleep. She probably needed the rest more than the water .
My phone buzzed in my pocket and I carried it into the next room before answering so I wouldn’t wake up my houseplant. I took a moment to think how absurd that was .
“Grandmama. Hi. How are you feeling ?”
“Fantastic! That stone was exactly what I needed.” She practically beamed sunshine through the pho
ne .
I grinned. “I’m glad. Have you talked to him yet?” I wandered into my room while we talked so I could take off my shoes and sprawl on the bed. Girl talk, even when conducted with your grandmother, should be done sprawled across a bed .
“I talked to him. And I found out he has a spot at the holiday farmers market tomorrow .”
Her enthusiasm was contagious. “Are you going to show up and buy all his…” I paused, trying to dislodge the word sausage before I said it to my grandmother. “Bacon? Are you going to buy all his bacon ?”
She laughed. “You were going to say something dirty, weren’t you dear ?”
“No !”
“Good. Because I need you to be on your best behavior tomorrow when you meet him .”
I choked on a snicker. “When I what ?”
“When you meet him at the market tomorrow. Dress nice, but comfortably. We’ll be there all day. I baked a lot of inventory for us to sell at our booth .”
“Wait. I can’t — ”
She cut me off. “You owe me a weekend. Be glad I’m only collecting one day of it. I’ll pick you up in the morning at seven!” She hung up before I could protest .
“Well, that was sneaky as hell.” I dropped my phone on the bed and lay staring up at the ceiling. “Goddesses. Am I right ?”
W hen Demeter baked, she didn’t fool around. I’d been the victim of one of her baking marathons before. Basket after basket of breads and cookies and cakes and pastries were crammed into the back of her car. It took two of us six trips to get it all inside to the booth she’d rented .
Most brick and mortar bakeries carried less inventory than what we had displayed. Anyone with even the mildest gluten intolerance would’ve been wise to steer clear of us .
Demeter was, after all, the goddess of the harvest. Wheat and bread were two of her sacred symbols. I shouldn’t have been so surprised by the abundance of baked goods .
As we set up our displays and hung signs with our prices, a parade of other vendors marched past with their arms filled with boxes and bags of their own wares. They all stopped for a moment in front of our booth, inhaled the aroma of fresh baked goodness, then moved on to their own stations .
Across the way, a woman with round cheeks and equally round glasses waved at my grandmother from behind a display of poinsettias. “Hello, Terry! Good to see you !”
I caught myself before I laughed. When I’d first met Demeter, she’d introduced herself as Terry. Apparently, it was the name she gave everyone. I supposed she couldn’t tell people her name was Demeter .
Grandmama waved back. “Glad you made it, Mavis! How’s Barney ?”
Mavis swapped a red-foiled pot with a green-foiled one for symmetry in her display. “The arthritis in his hip is much better, thanks to your ointment. He’s off playing golf today instead of helping me .”
Both women rolled their eyes at each other as if in agreement that men were a pain in the ass .
“Have you met my granddaughter?” She tugged me over by the elbow. “This is Wynter. Isn’t she beautiful?” She squeezed my arm and beamed at her friend .
“Lovely! So good to meet you, Wynter !”
I hugged the basket of bagels I was holding. My cheeks felt hot, and I gave her a shy smile . “Hi .”
Mavis ducked below her table out of eyesight. Her red and gold tablecloth shifted and puffed, so I assumed she was under there fiddling with more inventory. Grandmama took the bagels from me and set them out next to an astonishing variety of muffins .
I adjusted the descriptor tag stuck to the muffin basket. “Did you even sleep last night ?”
She stifled a yawn. “I didn’t do this in one night. I’ve been working for days. In fact, the last time I came to your house, I was going to ask for your help with the baking .”
I thought back to the horrible night when I’d found Phyllis unpotted on the kitchen floor while Grandmama huddled under a tree in the brand new jungle of Mom’s backyard. “You said you were just bringing me some jam .”
“Well, sure. The jam was supposed to be a bribe. But…well…after Phyllis, I decided I’d been enough trouble for one night .”
I sighed. As bad as my week had been, I probably could have squeezed in some baking for my grandmother. “I’m sorry. I wish I’d known .”
She waved her hand at me without looking. “Pssh. Don’t be silly. You’re here now.” She finished adjusting a box of chocolate chip cookies, then gave me a one-armed hug. “And I appreciate it very much .”
I hugged her back. She smelled like vanilla and cinnamon. “So, the stone I gave you is working for you ?”
She grinned and blushed. “He came over and helped me load the car this morning .”
“That’s fantastic! Is he here now?” I glanced around the huge convention center. Not all the booths and tables were filled yet. The event didn’t open to the public for another hour .
She pointed to an empty table in the corner about five tables away across from us. “I think that one’s his. He’ll be selling bacon and sausage, mostly .”
“I hope I get to meet him.” I scanned the area, watching for someone who might be Greg. “What’s he look like ?”
“Oh, you know…” Her voice sounded dreamy and far younger than either her current fifty-something look or her actual thousands of years. “Handsome .”
I turned to look at her in time to see her eyes light up. Her hand fluttered to her neck, then wiped her palm down her hip. She was adorable in her flustered state .
When I followed her gaze, I saw him. The man who had captured the heart of the goddess Demeter .
Handsome, she said .
He was average height, maybe five-eleven at the most. Most of the dark brown in his hair had been replaced with gray. He wasn’t skinny, though I wouldn’t have said he was fat, either. There was nothing particularly remarkable about him until I saw his face. It was open and friendly with bright blue eyes that smiled at the corners .
I liked him instantly .
He pushed a dolly stacked with crates and stopped at the corner booth Grandmama had pointed out. After unloading the crates, he whipped out a handkerchief from the front pocket of his overalls, wiped his forehead, then waved the cloth at my grandmother .
She giggled and waved back .
Greg grabbed the handle of his dolly and left the way he had come, presumably to grab more inventory for his booth .
Grandmama sighed. “See? Hecate’s stone works perfectly.” She spread her arms wide. “I have everything under control, thanks to this thing.” She patted her pocket. Her face went pale. “Where?” She stuffed her hand in the pocket, came up empty, then patted each of her other pockets, one after the other .
With each failure to find the stone, her movements became more frantic .
“You alright?” I knelt on the floor next to her while she searched through her purse .
“No, I’m not alright! I can’t…” She dumped her purse out on the concrete floor, spreading the contents with shaking fingers. “It’s not here. I don’t know where it went .”
“Okay. Hang on. Take a deep breath. It’ll be okay.” I gathered the contents of her purse and put them back, then helped her stand. “Did you maybe drop it in the car ?”
“I don’t…” Her eyes grew wide and filled with tears. “I must have left it on the bathroom sink this morning. I set it down while I brushed my teeth .”
“No!” Across from us, Mavis held up a poinsettia that was now twice the size it had been. Its leaves had gone from a velvety red to brown. “What’s happening ?”
All around us, vendors raised their voices in dismay .
“Somebody call the manager.” A tiny woman with purple and blue hair held up a dead Christmas wreath. “Or maybe the fire department. We should probably leave the building. Something’s poisoning the air .”
A man two stalls over held a box toward the woman with him. “Oh, my heavens. These eggs are hatching .”
She shook
her head. “Jerry, those aren’t fertilized. I checked them myself .”
“Well, you must’ve gotten them confused with another carton. There’s chicks poking out. And they seem to be in a hurry .”
Greg chose that moment to come whistling up the aisle with his loaded dolly, apparently oblivious to the distress around him .
Grandmama clutched both my hands, her knuckles white. “Wynter, what do I do? I don’t know what to do.” Her gaze flitted around the room like a frightened squirrel looking for a place to hide .
I pried one of my hands loose from hers and snagged both our purses. “Come with me .”
We trotted down the aisle between rows of vendors, small catastrophes erupting in our wake .
To the left, a woman shrieked as the wicker basket she was using to hold knitted scarves and hats blossomed into green shoots with tiny leaves .
On our right, a family of farmers selling boxes of vegetables ducked behind their table as three-foot-long stalks packed with Brussels sprouts shot their tiny cabbages in all directions. We ducked on our way past, but one of the projectiles hit me in the temple hard enough to sting .
I’d always hated Brussels sprouts. Now I had a good reason .
We made it out the door into the crisp air. “Take a deep breath, Grandmama. Breathe .”
She did as I told her, inhaling and letting it out a few times. “Okay. I’m okay.” She glanced at the door. “What am I going to do ?”
I led her to the edge of the sidewalk and pulled her down with me to sit. “You’re going to breathe. That’s all, for a minute or two. Then we’re going to fix this .”
We sat in silence for a little while during which time I noticed nothing appeared to be growing any faster than nature intended it to .
She let out a lungful of air. “Okay. How do you propose we fix this? I’m thinking you could stay here and mind the booth while I run home. If I hurry, it’ll be maybe an hour and a half. You know how to make change, right? The prices are all listed .”
I shook my head . “No .”
“You don’t know how to make change?” She frowned. “Your mother led me to believe you’ve worked a lot of different jobs. No money experience ?”