Sitting on the side of the guest bed, Lynne sighed. Their suitcases were stuffed, but toys Laurie had bought Jane at FAO Schwarz, plus gifts from Agatha and Michael, remained on the mattress. They would need another piece of luggage to get all of this home, then Lynne smiled. Laurie had offered one of their cases, and from the looks of it, the Snyders would call in that favor.
The flight was at ten tomorrow morning, but heading west, they would arrive home in time for a late lunch. Eric had booked them in first class, which originally Lynne had thought was ostentatious. Now she was relieved for the better service they would receive, or at least more comfortable seats. She had slept poorly last night, dreaming of a terrible fight with Renee. After breakfast Lynne had told Eric about it, mostly because he’d pestered her. Laurie and Stanford hadn’t noticed her glum mood, or maybe they had, or perhaps only Laurie. Yet, they had chatted like this was their usual weekend routine, although it had been a little strange without Agatha. That woman’s calming touch was missed by Lynne as she ate cereal and a banana, then she smiled. All three men had complained about the mediocre coffee, even Laurie, who had made it.
Lynne didn’t know when she would see Agatha again, although that woman claimed that having never flown on an airplane, perhaps it was time to give it a try. Lynne would love to host Agatha and whomever she brought with her, maybe her husband, probably her sister. Either way, there was a perfect guest room, then Lynne smiled. Laurie was already making noises about visiting that summer and while the New Yorkers would spend their end of year holidays at home, in January they would be eager to meet the new addition. Lynne had wept at Laurie’s statement, but she’d found that nearly anything made her teary. Although, she mused, when she’d stirred from her dream, no tears had been present. The fight with Renee had been awful, and while Lynne couldn’t recall what it was about, the tenor reverberated even now, hours later. Renee had been furious with Lynne and all Lynne could assume was it had been in response to the coming baby.
A mother placed her hand over that child; if Renee decided their friendship was over, there was little Lynne could do about it. At least she had Fran Canfield, and Sam’s sister Joan was very personable. Last night Agatha had made it clear that she would appreciate letters, when Lynne had time. And of course that meant snapshots included within the envelopes, just as Lynne sent to Laurie, and consequently to Stanford. Eric probably wrote his dealer a couple of times a month, but Lynne and Laurie exchanged notes weekly, pictures of Jane usually accompanying. Lynne would send different photos to Agatha, who would share them, giving all these East Coasters more glimpses of Lynne’s lovely little girl.
That daughter was babbling just outside the door, making Lynne get up as Eric entered their room. “Someone misses her mama,” Eric smiled, but he didn’t immediately hand over the baby. Jane needed a new diaper, which Lynne detected as soon as her family had stepped close. Lynne grinned, then made her way to the door.
“I’ll let you have the honors,” she said, feeling a little sick. She hoped that sensation wouldn’t last much longer, as she couldn’t task Eric with that chore when they got home. He had much to accomplish, what with the Queens’ sketches, Sam’s portrait, and from what Sam said, sorting through heaps of mail sent from overseas. Lynne reached the doorway, then smiled at her husband, who was trying to find space on the cluttered bed. “I’ll go ask Laurie for an extra suitcase while you attend to the girl.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Eric pushed aside teddy bears and books, then laid Jane on the sheet. He glanced at his wife. “Tell him we might need two pieces of luggage.”
“I’ll do that, also that it’s his fault.” She blew kisses toward her husband and daughter, then headed from the room. Stanford and Laurie could be heard in the living room, so Lynne went that direction. She now felt comfortable wandering around this apartment, finding Stanford reading a book while Laurie admired the Queens’ drawings. Lynne approached him, scanning the sketches spread out over the coffee table. She wondered where was the one of Agatha done here, but she didn’t ask, what with Stanford just feet away. “So Laurie,” Lynne began, “we need at least one more suitcase.”
He gazed at her and she met his eyes, although she wanted to look back at Eric’s dealer, who seemed to be stifling a laugh. Then Laurie smiled. “I’ll go see what I can find.”
After he walked away, Stanford did chuckle. He set down his book, then stood, meeting Lynne who remained by the coffee table. “I told him he bought too much stuff. He never listens to me.”
Lynne nodded, again wishing to study Stanford’s face. But his gentle tone relayed plenty, a sweet fondness having emerged over the last month. Then Lynne looked at him; he wore faded trousers and a long-sleeved shirt that had endured many washings. Only his glasses reminded her of the formally dressed businessman; this person was indeed different.
Over the last four weeks, Stanford had toted, and doted upon, Lynne’s daughter. He’d laughed even with Jane in his arms and that girl had fallen asleep on his shoulder more than once. How many times had Lynne seen smudges on Stanford’s usually spotless spectacles, how many instances had she heard him crooning? Maybe most of those moments had occurred within the last week, when Lynne, Eric, and Jane had returned with one more in tow. Somehow that coming baby had truly worn away Stanford’s impeccable edge. He would retrieve it Monday morning, Lynne was certain, but the next time she saw him might this more relaxed version of Eric’s dealer be the norm?
“Well, it was so kind of Laurie to spoil Jane so thoroughly. Agatha too.” Then Lynne continued. “You’ve been such a help with Jane, it’s really been wonderful.”
While Laurie had purchased the items, it had been unspoken they were also from Stanford. Lynne didn’t want him to feel excluded and his willingness to hold Jane hadn’t been missed by either her mother or father. Stanford cleared his throat, then nodded, stepping a foot back from where he had been. Then he gazed at the coffee table. “Well, she’s been quite well behaved, I must say.”
Now Lynne fought a giggle. “She’s had her moments. Hopefully she’ll be good tomorrow on the plane.”
“Mmmhmm,” Stanford hummed. Then he sighed. Lynne observed how he stared at the drawings, then crossed his arms over his chest. Was he mulling over possibly posing for Eric, or merely curious to how Lynne’s husband would bring those sketches to life?
Lynne hoped he would paint them as vividly as how he’d captured her as a farm, forest, coral reef…. Endless had been Eric’s imagination when she had first posed for him sans clothing. Lynne didn’t remember bright hues attached to Agatha’s neighborhood, but these pencil drawings screamed for colors, and maybe Lynne might suggest that to her husband. She had steered him towards primary shades when hawks had been his focus. Yet, she remained silent there with Stanford. It was one thing to subtly speak about art with Eric, but with a man who might one day be a model for a painting….
Just how he stood there would be a good start, dressed casually, gazing at his client’s work. Lynne rued that she had made Eric change Jane. She should have sent him out to witness a moment that Eric could have indelibly placed within his brain, then later drawn with precision. Yet she’d felt woozy, better for Eric to deal with a messy diaper while Lynne went hunting the man responsible for the need for more luggage. Lynne gazed at where Laurie had gone down the hallway. He’d probably found an extra case, then deposited it in the guest room, where he, Eric, and Jane were now making conversation, or perhaps even filling that suitcase, or trying to.
Lynne smiled, then peeked at her companion; Stanford was still studying the sketches, his arms crossed, but now his brow was furrowed. Lynne breathed as quietly as possible, never having been alone with Stanford for so long. If only she was an artist, she softly sighed; oh the picture she would paint.
He appeared focused upon all of the drawings together; what piece was holding his attention, or was he even considering the subjects? Maybe he was mulling over if he might ever be featured within an Eric Snyder can
vas. Lynne watched as he remained so still, barely blinking. Stanford seemed to have forgotten she was there, which didn’t offend her. Never had Lynne been given an opportunity to study a most aloof person.
Yet, she had been privileged to see another side to him, even this was new, in how little he said, yet often he was quiet, although never when with just one other person. If Stanford was near someone, there was a reason for that proximity, even if it was merely to soothe Lynne’s daughter. Yet Jane couldn’t talk back, couldn’t observe with the same depth as her mother, and while Eric was indeed the most discerning Snyder, Lynne possessed rather keen skills when it came to assessing human behavior. All those years as a nurse, she allowed, not to mention her tenure as the wife of a most amazing man.
But Stanford Taylor wasn’t a simple sort; his intellect was profound, although slightly cloaked by his detached nature. It wasn’t that he was narrow-minded, but that much of his intelligence was dedicated so intently, instead of being spread over a broad spectrum. This man knew more about art than, well, then Lynne smiled. Just about all he knew was art. Yet art was a powerful medium and maybe for Stanford art was enough. Art and how to calm a one-year-old, Lynne inwardly chuckled.
Perhaps Eric didn’t need to paint Stanford, although Lynne wanted to see Laurie through Eric’s vision. Then she frowned slightly; she would love to see the New Yorkers together however Eric thought was best. But maybe that was a dream that Lynne couldn’t help but lump alongside wishing her friendship with Renee could return as before. Before made Lynne sigh, which caused Stanford to turn in her direction. “Are you all right?” he asked.
She nodded, but tears formed in her eyes. Before she never would have cried around this man, but before he had never seemed so, so…. Stanford was human to Lynne, and it hadn’t taken Eric’s talent to bring that notion to life. Lynne brushed aside her tears, then smiled. “Just what Eric’s gonna have to deal with for the next several months. A soppy wife, among other things.”
Stanford pulled a handkerchief from his pants’ pocket. Handing it to Lynne, he wore a funny smile, which immediately brightened her mood. She wiped her eyes, blew her nose, then laughed. “Thank you Stanford. You’re always prepared.”
“Even on weekends,” he grinned. Then he gazed again at the coffee table. “Don’t tell him I said this, but I am quite intrigued by how this series will play out. Well, I suppose he already knows that, but exactly how he interprets these drawings. I wonder how he’ll do it.”
“I’d like to see bright colors.” Then she smiled. “I urged him to add more vivid tones when he was still painting hawks. They just seemed so drab before.”
Stanford stared at her. “I always wondered why he changed the hues.” Then the dealer chuckled. “You have more influence on him than I imagined.”
“Maybe.” She gazed at Stanford. How would Eric interpret this man, the idea making Lynne ache. “I’ll tell you this, when I started to model for him, he certainly took me by surprise.”
She didn’t mean her initial poses and Stanford understood. “Yes, I imagine you were quite startled by that first canvas.”
Lynne laughed. “I had no idea what he’d been planning all that time.”
Stanford joined her laughter, stepping closer to her. Then Lynne wondered if maybe Eric might paint the New Yorkers in a similarly veiled way. As their loved ones stepped into the living room, she joined her husband and daughter as Laurie stood by his man. Lynne took Jane, kissing her forehead, while another couple gazed at an artist’s handiwork. Eric put his arm around his wife, but the men simply admired the sketches. Lynne leaned against her husband, wondering if he was taking stock. As he nuzzled against the back of her head, she smiled. Time would tell how and when he captured Stanford and Laurie, but Lynne was certain they wouldn’t avoid Eric’s talent forever.
Chapter 107
The Hawk: Part Six Page 9