I Married a Billionaire: Lost and Found(25)

"Sure," I said. "Of course."

"I just happened to open the business section yesterday, and I could hardly believe what I saw. Your drawing, of course - and you. I'm guessing you don't remember, what with everything you've been going through, but we ran into each other in a liquor store not too long ago. I'd just gotten back from France and I didn't have my ID."

"Oh my God," I said. "Of course. I…I had no idea who you were."

"Neither did I." He was smiling - I could hear it in his voice. "I mean - who you were, obviously I know who I am. Most of the time, anyway. But - can I call you Madeline?"

"Most people just call me Maddy."

"Maddy, I have to tell you, I couldn't believe how beautiful it was. I remembered seeing your name on a portfolio that came in a few months back, so I dug it out and took a good look at it. I don't mean to say - we just get so much, you know, I can't possibly look at everything, and most of the time when these businessmen's trophy wives get it into their head that they're going to be artists, they're about as wrong as you can get. So I didn't give you a second thought, at first, without even opening the folder. I don't mind telling you how wrong I was. Your work is beautiful. I have a showing next month for local artists and I was holding a few spots for friends, but they got sucked into the corporate world and they don't have time for me anymore. Would you be able to step in? I understand if you're too busy, but…I just wanted to give it a shot, because I'd love to show your drawings."

"No, of course. I'll…I'll find the time." There was no way I was saying no to this, even if it was guaranteed to be overshadowed. It was my dream. Even if it wasn't happening the way I wanted, I had to take the opportunity.

"Great, fantastic. I'll mail you something with all the details. I want to show that piece of the girl with the willow tree, obviously. And I've already picked out some other pieces from your portfolio. It's really impressive work. I'm sorry, I don't mean to repeat myself."

"It's fine," I said, a genuine smile crossing my face for the first time in a while. "Trust me, I don't mind. You can flatter me any day."

"Well, I'm not even trying to flatter you. I'm not just saying this because you could buy and sell me. I really, really do like your work."

"Thank you," I said. "I never wanted to think that anyone would show me just because of my husband, or his money. I know that's silly."

"It's not silly at all. I don't blame you." He hesitated. "Do you think there's any way…could you bring the willow drawing here? I really want to envision where I'm going to place it, and it's hard if I don't have something to play around with. There's no rush, but sometime in the next few weeks?"




"Oh - sure. Can I just stop by?"

"Pretty much any time at the gallery, I'm always here. I'd love to meet you. Again. You know, properly."

"Likewise." I paused. "Thanks, Curtis. I really appreciate the opportunity."

"My pleasure," he said. "I just wish it could have come at a better time."

"Yeah," I said. "Me too."





CHAPTER EIGHT





Daniel was meeting with Genevieve again the next morning, so I ended up folding my drawing into a big portfolio and taking it down to the gallery as soon as I'd had my coffee. I hoped Curtis hadn't been kidding about being there all the time. I knew from my days as an art student that "all the time" often meant something different to artists than it did to the rest of the world, and it usually started sometime after noon.

A bell above the door tinkled lightly as I pushed it open. I was immediately surrounded by the smell of cedar and the strange atmosphere that all galleries had - I'd always assumed it was a result of the temperature controls that often ruled these places, but I'd never actually asked.

I headed towards the back. It looked like the door to someone's office was hanging open, and a light was on inside. I stepped forward and rapped lightly on the wall next to the door frame.

Curtis looked up. I did recognize him now that I saw him - salt and pepper hair, with stubble on his chin that was almost completely gray. He was tall and slender and he dressed like an art gallery owner - charcoal slacks and a dark turtleneck, which somehow worked on him.

"Maddy!" he said, jumping to his feet and running over to me with his hand extended. "I'm so happy you're here. I didn't expect to see you for a while."

"Well, there's a lot of…lulls," I said, shaking his hand. "Right now there's not much going on. It’s nice to have a distraction, actually."

We talked shop for a while, and he started asking me about my art. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had been interested in this aspect of my life. I started telling him how I’d first been inspired to start drawing, and why I’d ended up studying graphic design instead, despite what I actually wanted to do.

"Anyway, I’m so glad you could take the time to come down," he said, after a lull in the conversation.

"No problem. Like I said, there’s not a lot happening. And even if there was, I don’t think there’s much I could do to help out."