by Linda Seed
“Oh, thank God,” he said. She could see the tension drain out of him as he went nearly limp in his chair. “Are you sure, though? I thought you really wanted it.”
“I thought I did, too. But going out there, spending time there … I remembered the downsides. And there are a lot of downsides.”
He reached out and grabbed her hand, and tugged her down onto his lap. She wiggled a bit, getting comfortable, as he wrapped his arms around her.
“Are you gonna be happy, running your gallery in Cambria? Is that going to be enough for you?”
“I’m not just going to run the gallery.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”
“No. I’m going to continue the artist’s residency. If you’re okay with me continuing to lease your guest house and your barn.”
“Well, I think we can work something out.” He gave her a sexy grin. “What made you decide all this?”
“Gordon.”
“Really.”
“Yeah. He just … I saw him earlier today. And he …” She found that she couldn’t continue, because there were tears in her eyes and her voice was becoming thick.
He rubbed at her back and tucked her head under his chin.
“This just meant a lot to him,” she said finally, when she could continue. “It changed him. I want to do that for other artists. I think it’s what I’m supposed to do.”
“Then that’s what you’ll do.”
Being there with him, thinking about her plans for the future, she could practically hear the puzzle pieces of her life clicking into place. Ryan, her friends, this place. Meaningful work that would bring meaning to others.
“I love you,” she said. She’d felt it before now—known it—but this was the first time she’d said it.
He held her tighter, and she could hear his heartbeat against her cheek. “Ah, Gen,” he murmured. “I love you too.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
She had a lot to do at the gallery after her week-long absence. Alex had done a good job holding down the fort, but there was business only she could handle, and she found that it had piled up while she’d been gone.
She was knee-deep in Excel spreadsheets when Katya called on her cell phone.
“Oh, geez. Katya,” Gen said when she answered the phone. “I was meaning to call you.”
“Antonio needs an answer about the gallery space,” Katya said. “He said, and I quote, ‘Do not let her off the phone until she says yes.’ ”
“Ah. Well, I’m afraid I’m going to have to disappoint him. I’m not taking the space.”
“You’re not?” She could hear the surprise in Katya’s voice.
“No.”
“Well. All right. I’ll tell him, but he won’t be happy.”
Gen shifted in her chair and moved the cell phone to her other ear. “I’m not sure why it matters to him. I’m sure he can lease the space to someone else. And at a higher price than he was offering me.”
“Of course he can.” Katya sounded impatient with her.
“Then why … ?”
“You’re terribly naïve,” Katya said.
Bellini had said the same thing. Gen was beginning to wonder whether it was true.
“What do you mean, Katya?”
Katya was silent.
“Tell me,” Gen insisted.
“Antonio wants you in the gallery space so he can have leverage with the Delaneys. Obviously. You can’t possibly think the one purchase was going to be the only one.”
Gen started to feel cold. “What purchase?”
“You don’t know,” Katya said with wonder.
“What purchase, Katya?”
“Your boyfriend made a very large purchase at the show last week. Antonio suggested that it was the only way he’d be in a position to offer you the gallery space at that price. Honestly, Genevieve. Did you think that’s what space in SoHo really costs?”
Gen felt sick. She pressed a hand to her belly, as though that might stop the nausea rising there.
“Genevieve?”
“I just … Let me make sure I have all of this straight. Bellini told Ryan that he would give me the gallery space at a rock-bottom price if he made a big purchase. And Ryan did it.”
“That about covers it, yes.”
“How big a purchase are we talking about?”
With amusement in her voice, Katya said, “I saw the check, Genevieve. There haven’t been that many zeroes in one place since the size tags at Fashion Week.”
“I … God.”
“I’ll tell Bellini his cash cow has left the pasture.”
“You do that.”
Gen ended the call, then placed the phone on the desk in front of her and stared at it.
Alex walked past her and did a double-take.
“Are you okay?”
“Fine.” Gen kept staring at the phone.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She stood up, stared at the desk a while longer, then snatched the stapler off the desk and hurled it into the wall, where it left a small dent in the drywall.
“Uh oh,” Alex said, and quickly found something to do in the back room.
She tracked him down at the ranch. She went to the house first, but of course he wasn’t there in the middle of the day. Sandra said he was probably out in the northwest pasture. She put on her athletic shoes and tromped out there, only to find a bunch of lumbering black cows and no Ryan.
She finally found him in the new barn, where he was making cooing sounds to a cow. The cow was shifting uncomfortably from one foot to another, occasionally letting out a mournful moo, as Ryan crouched down and did something to her that undoubtedly would be hard for Gen to get out of her head if she knew what it was.
With a head full of steam, Gen stomped down the rows of clean metal pens, her sneakers crunching on a layer of dirt and hay, until she reached him.
“What the hell is this I hear about you writing a giant check to Bellini?” she demanded. She was breathing hard, only partly due to the long walk out here. Her heart was pounding, and her voice sounded slightly hysterical.
“Gen.” Ryan stood up, patted the cow, and came out of the pen to stand in the aisle with her.
“You wrote Bellini a big goddamned check, and we both know it wasn’t because you wanted a goddamned Gordon Kendrick.” She wrapped her arms around herself because that way, it was easier not to throttle him.
“Well.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Who told you about that?”
“Katya.” She spit out the name as though it tasted bad. Which it did.
“Look. Gen.” He made a patting gesture in the air in front of him, which she supposed was intended to be calming. It wasn’t. “Let’s just … Can we just sit down someplace and talk about this?”
“Talk about what?” she demanded. “About how you thought you could buy off Bellini to get him to offer me cheap gallery space? So you could make poor, inept Gen think she was achieving something on her own? God. It makes me sick to think of you and Bellini scheming behind my back. Do you understand how humiliating this is? How demeaning?”
“I didn’t mean it like that. I didn’t …”
“Then how did you mean it, Ryan? How else could you possibly have intended it?”
He turned and walked a few steps away. He hung his head and put his hands on his hips, then turned back to face her again.
“He—Bellini—said he ‘wouldn’t be in a position’ to offer you the space without a big purchase from me. And I … You had already gone with Katya to look at it. You were so excited about it. Told me how it was perfect for you. I didn’t want to be that guy who was too tight with his checkbook to get you what you wanted.”
“What I wanted was to prove myself. To make something of myself in that world, on my own, without anyone’s help. And now …” She shook her head, her lips pursed tight.
“I thought you didn’t want that anymore,” he said. “I thought you’d decided it wasn’t for you.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is the point? What’s the point, Gen?” His voice was raised to a level that was upsetting to the cow, who tossed her head and made a grunting noise.
“The point is that you didn’t trust me to stand on my own. You didn’t think I could do it without you. And if you’re here, standing behind me with your … your Delaney money and your giant almighty checkbook, then I’ll never have the chance to try.” Tears were spilling down her cheeks, and she swiped at them with her fingertips.
“Ah, Gen …”
“I think I need to go.” She turned and walked out of the barn.
“Gen, wait.” He started to follow her, and she turned on him, her eyes bright with anger.
“Don’t. Just … don’t.”
She walked out, and he let her go.
Sandra was waiting for Ryan when he got back to the house all dirty and dispirited. He’d barely gotten in the door when she confronted him, her arms crossed over her chest, that Sandra Delaney scowl on her face.
“What had Gen so upset earlier today?” she demanded.
Ryan sighed deeply and rubbed at his eyes. “Not now, Mom.”
“Don’t you tell me ‘not now.’ I’m still your mother, and I still expect an answer when I ask you a damned question.” Her graying ponytail bobbed with vehemence.
“Mom … Please.” He couldn’t look at her, and he felt like shit. It wasn’t enough, apparently, to have one woman he loved yell at him. Now another one appeared ready to tear his head off and throw it at him.
“Ry.” Her voice was softer now, and the softness ate at him even more than the anger had. “What happened? Come on. Sit down and tell me.”
They went into the kitchen, and he sat at the kitchen table, staring miserably at the tabletop. He told her what he’d done, and what Gen had said. His voice sounded pathetic, and he knew it, but he couldn’t seem to change it. When he was done, Sandra sat across from him and shook her head.
“God, men can be idiots sometimes,” she said. Despite the harshness of her words, her voice was gentle. “You misread that situation, boy.”
“Yeah. I’m starting to get that.”
“A girl like Genevieve doesn’t give two shits from a rat’s ass about your money. She wants your emotional support, not your financial support. I’d have thought you’d have figured that out about her by now.”
“Well, I guess I should have, but I didn’t. I can’t undo what’s done. So how do I fix this?”
She leaned back in her chair and gave him a hard look. “If I were you, I’d give her a little time. Then I’d go find her and grovel.”
He nodded slowly. “Yeah.”
“But I wouldn’t be surprised if it doesn’t work.”
The idea that it might not, the thought that he might not be able to set this right, made his chest hurt. “Why not?”
“You didn’t just lie to her. You didn’t just scheme behind her back. You hurt her feelings. And a woman’s feelings can be slow to heal.”
“Ah … shit.”
“Wait. And then grovel.” Sandra went to the refrigerator, got out a bottle of beer, and set it in front of Ryan. “I figure you need this right about now.” She patted his shoulder—a quick and businesslike pat-pat—let out a grunt, and walked out of the room, leaving him alone with his beer and his regret.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Gen was crying, and Rose was holding a carton of Ben & Jerry’s Chunky Monkey and a spoon.
“Here.” She held the ice cream and the spoon out to Gen. “It’s not happiness, but it’s pretty damned close.”
Gen grabbed at the carton as though it were a life raft and she were at sea in the middle of a hurricane.
“Why?” she moaned. “Why would he do something like that?” She tore the top off the ice cream carton and began shoveling with the spoon.
They, along with Kate and Lacy, were gathered at Kate’s house on an emergency mission to nurse Gen through the crisis. It was dark out, and Jackson was at the restaurant working the dinner service. Gen’s eyes were red, her skin was blotchy, and a flurry of crumpled Kleenex surrounded her like little shipwreck victims.
“Oh, honey.” Kate put her hand on Gen’s forearm. “Men like to fix things. He saw a problem—you wanted the gallery space—and he tried to fix it.”
“But I didn’t even want the gallery space! I’d decided that I wasn’t even going! He was fixing a problem that didn’t exist!” She waved the spoon and the ice cream carton around for emphasis.
“But he didn’t know that,” Lacy said.
“He would have if he’d talked to me! And why are you all on his side?!”
“We’re on your side,” Rose said. “It’s just …”
“It’s just what?” Gen demanded. She spooned more ice cream into her mouth.
“Well … it’s just that he thought he was helping. He was trying to help.”
“But he was ‘helping’ by being patronizing and demeaning,” Lacy said.
“Exactly!” Gen pointed the spoon at her. “That’s … That’s exactly right.” She looked down at the ice cream. “Why am I eating this? I don’t eat junk food.”
“You do today,” Rose said.
Gen put the ice cream and the spoon down on the coffee table in front of her and slumped back onto Kate’s sofa. She put her hands over her face and scrubbed at it.
“He doesn’t even get it. I was yelling at him, and he was just … He asked me what my point was.”
“Oh, God,” Lacy said. “I hate that. That’s the worst.”
“Right?” Gen said. “If he doesn’t even understand why I’m upset, then how … how …”
“Make him understand.” Kate rubbed her arm some more. “Explain it to him.”
“No.” Gen pushed herself up off the sofa and started to pace. “No. I’m not going to explain it. I shouldn’t have to explain it. The bottom line is, he thought I wouldn’t be able to do the things I wanted to do without his help. He thought I was incapable on my own. Isn’t that cute, Gen trying to be this New York art big shot. Isn’t it adorable? I’d better rush in with my giant phallic checkbook and save the goddamned day.” She picked up a throw pillow from one of Kate’s chairs and hurled it to the ground.
“When you put it like that, it really does sound bad,” Rose conceded.
“It sounds bad because it is.” Gen came to rest in front of her friends. “If that’s what he thinks of me, if that’s how little he respects me, then how can we have a relationship? What future could we possibly have?”
“I still think he deserves a chance to learn from his idiot mistake,” Lacy said. “I’ve known him a long time. He’s a good guy.”
“God. I thought … I thought …”
“You thought he was the one,” Kate said.
“I really did. Is that stupid? Was I stupid?”
“No, honey. Just in love,” Lacy said.
“Well, it’s the same goddamned thing.”
“It probably is,” Rose agreed. “If you’re not going to finish that ice cream, you mind if I do?”
Ryan tried to call Gen, but she didn’t pick up, and then his calls went to voicemail. He tried to text her, but she didn’t answer. He went over to her place, but she wouldn’t answer the door. If she’d acknowledged him in any way—if she’d yelled through the door for him to go away, even—then he’d have been able to make his case and maybe get her to talk to him. But as it was, he was left standing there feeling like a jerk.
His mother had told him to give her time, but he’d been too impatient, and he’d started in right away with the calls and the banging on her door. Maybe his mother was right.
Dispirited, he went home and sulked.
He felt misunderstood—surely if she thought about it she could see his good intentions—but he also felt like a goddamned imbecile. He should have known that conspiring with Bellini behind her back, no matter what his intentions, would backfire on him if she ever foun
d out. And that was the problem with lies and secrets. People always found out. His dad had taught him to live his life in such a way that he wouldn’t need to hide anything, because his actions would be above reproach. When had he forgotten that?
Restless, he went out to the old barn to check on a heifer that had been showing some early signs of BVD. He’d checked on her earlier, and he didn’t really need to go out there again for a while, but he needed to do something to get his mind off Gen.
He checked on the calf, then tried Gen again on his cell phone. She didn’t answer. He put his phone back in his pocket, paced a little bit, and then retrieved the phone again.
“You told me to write the check, and now Gen won’t speak to me,” Ryan said when Daniel answered the phone.
“I didn’t tell you to write the check. I told you that she really wanted to go to New York.”
“How is that different?” Ryan demanded. He came to rest in front of an empty stall and leaned against the railing.
“It’s different because when I call her, she picks up,” Daniel said.
It wasn’t a bad point.
Gen had no choice but to get on with things. She was miserable and lonely, and she couldn’t sleep without missing the feeling of Ryan’s body next to hers. But that didn’t mean she could just sit on her ass and cry. She had a gallery to run. And she had an artist-in-residence program to organize.
Gordon was set to go home in a week or two, and it was time to figure out who would take his place. She hadn’t even set up a formal application process, but all of the publicity Gordon had received—and the attention she’d received as an extension of that—meant that artists were contacting her on a daily basis wanting information on the residency. She hadn’t originally intended for it to be an ongoing program, so she had some catching up to do. And obviously, the artist she chose would not be staying at the ranch. It would be too awkward if she and Ryan weren’t together anymore. She needed to find a new place.
“You could just forgive Ryan,” Alex suggested when Gen assigned him to start looking for rental properties that would work.
She could. God knew she thought about it every day. Forgiving him would be easy. What wouldn’t be easy would be living with the fact that he didn’t think enough of her to believe that she could achieve her goals without his help. What wouldn’t be easy—or even possible—would be trying to be her own person while living under the shadow of his wealth.