Pursuing Pandora

by Maggie Brown

  Pandora looked so lost that Winter’s heart went out to her. “I’m so glad you did. I’m honoured you think enough of me to tell me.”

  Pandora pushed the remaining food around on her plate. “You’re different from the people I knock around with. And the women I usually go out with.”

  Winter absorbed this without replying, waiting for her to say more.

  “My friends…well…come from a different sort of environment,” Pandora said after a long silence.

  Winter gave a sigh of frustration. “Sweetheart, I’m not a fool. I’m well aware you have another life. I can’t imagine any feminine singers would have muscles like yours. They’re like bands of steel. You don’t just jog, you seriously work out. That commitment would hardly be necessary for someone in the music industry. But I won’t ask, and you can be assured I won’t be discussing this with anyone.”

  “I wish I could say more, but I can’t.”

  “I know and it doesn’t matter. But…I would like to know about the women you usually date.”

  Pandora let out a chuckle. “I wouldn’t exactly call it dating. More episodes.”

  Winter raised an eyebrow. “Really? You’re like Jessie?”

  “Hell no. Exact opposite. I’m too fussy…and I like to get to know someone before the bedroom. But then I lose interest. I can’t seem to help myself. So when I need…ah…relief, I usually hook up with women who know the score.”

  “The score?”

  Pandora cleared her throat. “Um…women who have no expectations it’ll go further.”

  “No strings types, you mean. If there is such a person. I always think that’s a bit of a front for insecurity.”

  “There are women out there just looking for a good time. Or too busy, or whatever other reason, for anything more than casual. It’s hardly your lifestyle, so you wouldn’t know,” Pandora said, her voice lowering into defensive mode.

  Winter studied her thoughtfully. Did she believe what she was saying? Maybe young adults weren’t looking for long-term commitments, but later on it was only natural to want someone constant in your life. “Believe me, I know all about it. I’ve watched Jessie in action for years, flitting from one woman to the next. And I’ve had her sobbing rejects crying on my shoulder too many times to believe what you’re saying.”

  When Pandora didn’t answer, she asked softly, “Am I different, Pandora? Is what we have different?” Then she wondered why she was persisting. Did she really want to know the answer? Was this all just an episode? One in a list?

  “Yes. This is different, you’re special to me.”

  “Yet it has to end,” said Winter sadly.

  “I don’t want it to, but I’ll have to go. Can’t we enjoy what we have?”

  “I suppose a couple of months is a bit more than an episode,” said Winter dryly.

  “Come on, babe. Don’t let’s argue. Won’t you believe I care about you?”

  “I’m sorry. I’m acting like a teenager and I can’t stop myself. Put it down to lack of self-confidence, a legacy of my past. Of course I know you care about me. You’ve made that perfectly clear. But it’s early days, too soon for either of us to declare anything but interest. This attraction will probably have burnt itself out like a burst of fireworks by the time you’re ready to go,” Winter said, determined to put her insecurities aside. She flashed her a sultry smile. “In the meantime, let’s eat our dessert in the lounge so we can cuddle on the couch.”

  “Good idea. I’ll put these in the dishwasher,” Pandora said, rising to clear the table. “But maybe we can have dessert later. After that second helping, I shall have to let my stomach settle.”

  “Okay. Would you like a movie? I’ve Netflix. Brooklyn is a good romance,” Winter said, heading for the living room. Once settled on the couch, she reached for the remote.

  “I haven’t seen that one,” replied Pandora. She motioned for Winter to move over, then took off her boots and slid in next to her.

  The feel of her warm body was enough to make Winter forget the movie. She placed the remote back down and turned to face her. “You’ve got too many clothes on.” Then one by one, she undid the buttons of her shirt. She looked up to meet Pandora’s gaze.

  She met Winter’s eyes and smiled.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Winter loved art galleries. They suited her organized personality. Quiet, structured, and pristine spaces of peace and tranquillity filled with soothing colours and forms. But a part of her also liked that art was full of contradictions: from the sublime, the symbolic, to the sometimes incomprehensible “masterpieces.” Over the years, she had made time to view a visiting exhibition or a particular artist’s display. It was one passion she and Christine had shared, and over the years they had attended many opening nights.

  The Patrice was a contemporary gallery in the cultural hub of the city. Privately owned, it had an impressive catalogue of renowned artists and held regular changing exhibitions. In recent years, it had included a diverse range of international art in its three showing rooms. Winter was very interested in this exhibition. It featured works from two artists: an established floral painter, Grace Hartwood, whom she liked, and a young male contemporary abstract artist hailed as an exciting new talent.

  When she alighted from the cab, Veronica, dressed in a mid-length black cocktail dress, was waiting for her on the footpath. She welcomed Winter with a hug and murmured, “Hello. You look very smart.”

  “Hi there. You don’t look too bad yourself.” She returned the embrace a little guiltily. The doctor was a genuinely nice person, and she dreaded the frank talk with her later.

  They made their way through the foyer into the spacious front room, where each exhibit was subtly lit. The walls were filled with huge floral paintings, so lifelike that Winter could nearly smell the perfume and touch the dewdrops. Entranced, they carefully studied each canvas before moving to the next. As they browsed along the opposite wall, a slender stylish woman appeared beside them. She kissed Veronica with a, “Lovely to see you again, Roni.”

  Winter looked at her quizzically. When Veronica introduced her, she added with a smile. “Brenda is the director of the gallery. She and I are old friends.”

  “Cut out the old bit,” said Brenda with a chuckle. “Come on and I’ll give you a tour. There are a few more of the florals in the next room.”

  They moved on through the crowd, a mixture of serious buyers in conservative clothes, interspersed with arty types in flamboyant outfits. Winter recognized quite a few people, mostly the art connoisseurs who were the gallery’s bread-and-butter customers. First-night showings were popular—there were always a few bargains to be picked up from emerging artists. Brenda gave a running commentary on each piece as they strolled through the room. When they reached an almost ethereal painting of white orchids, Winter paused. She’d been looking for something for her sunroom and this would look spectacular.

  “A slight deviation from her usual style,” Brenda murmured beside her. “But I believe Grace intends to do more with this technique in the future. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “It’s fabulous,” enthused Winter, studying the canvas closely and checking the catalogue. She never hesitated buying good artwork, even those on the expensive side. They only increased in value. In fact, she always encouraged her clients to invest in art.

  “Is it perhaps something you would be interested in?” asked Brenda smoothly.

  “Definitely. I’ve always admired Grace’s work and I love this one. I would like to buy it.”

  “Wonderful. She will be so pleased.”

  “I’ll come over tomorrow to finalise the sale.”

  “Excellent.” Brenda twirled a long, manicured hand at her assistant and pointed to the painting. “She’ll put on a red dot. Now, let’s cement the deal with a drink.”

  They followed her up an internal staircase to a room which was discreetly closed off from the public. Two waiters carrying chilled champagne and exotic finger f
ood immediately appeared in front of them. Brenda handed them both a flute. “Enjoy, ladies.”

  They both murmured their thanks.

  “Oh dear,” exclaimed Brenda, her eyes focusing on a young man in an ill-fitting suit, listening with a pained expression to a buxom woman in a flowing kaftan. “I’ll be back in a little while. My poor artist needs rescuing.”

  Veronica nudged her with her elbow when she moved off. “Only her most valued clients are asked up here.”

  “Then I’ve come up in the world,” said Winter with a grin. She plucked a caviar canape from the tray. “And the food is definitely better than the cheese and wine they usually serve at these things.”

  “You’re an art collector, Winter?”

  “Only for my personal pleasure. If I like something, I’ll buy it. That floral will go wonderfully well with the cane furniture in my sunroom.”

  “I’m renting an apartment at the moment. It must be nice to have a house to decorate,” Veronica said wistfully.

  “Are you planning to settle—”

  At the sound of the familiar laugh across the room, Winter choked on the sentence. She turned her head automatically, then wished she hadn’t. Christine Dumont looked up at the same time and their gazes locked. Winter caught the surprise in her eyes before Christine’s elegant features hardened. She turned back to see Veronica regarding her with raised eyebrows. “My ex is over there,” she said, subdued.

  “Really? That’s bad luck. Let’s just ignore her, shall we.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “On second thoughts,” Veronica murmured, entwining an arm through Winter’s with a suggestion of a laugh. “What about we give her something to think about.”

  “You don’t want to annoy her, trust me.”

  “Oh, I think I can handle her,” whispered Veronica into her ear.

  Winter took a gulp of her champagne as she felt the hot breath on her lobe. Veronica had no idea what she was doing. It was suicidal to prod the tiger—Christine was capable of making a scene at the least provocation. She glanced over at Brenda who was talking earnestly to the woman in the kaftan. No help forthcoming from that quarter.

  “Perhaps we should go back downstairs,” muttered Winter.

  “Nonsense. You can’t possibly let the woman intimidate you.”

  “You’re right. I guess it’s a force of habit to be wary around her.”

  “Okay,” said Veronica, slipping closer. “What say we compromise and adjourn to the balcony. You can tell me all about your art collection.”

  Winter flashed her a grateful smile, relieved as she followed her outside. She was pleased to find no one else had ventured out into the night air. They rested on the railing to take in the view of the city lights. “This is really pleasant,” she said, her pulse settling to normal.

  But they were only there for a few moments before the very familiar, well-modulated voice echoed behind them. “Enjoying the exhibition?”

  A chill shot through Winter, her heart immediately pounding again. She took her time to collect her thoughts before she turned around.

  “Chris,” she said quietly. “Fancy seeing you here.”

  Perfectly sculptured eyebrows shot up. “Tsk, tsk. Really, Winter, you haven’t forgotten that I enjoy opening nights as much as you? But then again, you always thought you were more of an authority when it came to art.”

  Winter’s fingers tensed around her glass. Christine managed to haul out the inner bitch without turning an eye. “Come on. Can’t we be civil to each other?”

  “Have you given more thought to our date?”

  “I said no and I meant it. I’ve moved on with my life.”

  “I can see that.” She gave Veronica a slow, appraising look and tilted her head. “From one woman to the next.”

  Reluctantly, Winter made the introduction.

  “Hello, Veronica,” Christine said, giving her one of her most charming smiles.

  Winter sizzled out the breath she was holding. Maybe she was going to play the captivating television personality and forget about being bitchy. She could be very appealing when she wanted to be. And she did look quite stunning in a Donatella Versace creation that suited her shape and colouring to perfection.

  “I love your dress,” Veronica said. “It’s beautiful.”

  At this, the doctor received a more intimate smile. When they began to discuss fashion, Winter didn’t contribute to the conversation, instead she quietly studied her ex. The cracks were beginning to show. Her makeup was thicker, her hair had a brassy bottled-blond look and her lips were puffy. Why she had to cling to youth was beyond her. She had poise, class, and beauty, but knowing Christine, she wouldn’t be prepared to age gracefully.

  “So, Winter,” Christine said, turning her attention back to her. “You’re over your other little fling, I see.”

  “Fling?”

  “Fling…crush…whatever you choose to call it. Surely you haven’t forgotten Pandora already? You know…sexy siren, all legs. You were hanging on her every word at the garden party.”

  The hairs on Winter’s neck stood up. It had been too much to hope that she would get out of the encounter unscathed. “That’s none of your business.”

  Christine gave her a measured stare and distaste fluttered across her face. “I must admit, I never could see how you could keep a woman like that.”

  Winter’s jaw worked. “A woman like what?” she asked. She darted her eyes to Veronica, who flashed her a sympathetic look.

  “Come now. She’s a singer in a nightclub and would be used to accepting certain…ah…liberties, if you get my meaning.”

  Winter stared at her. “No, I haven’t a clue what you’re inferring. Pandora earns a respectable living singing in a reputable club. Don’t make her out to be something she’s not.”

  “Rubbish.” Christine’s voice had turned haughty with a cutting edge. “She’s a woman who likes attention. You’d never have been able to satisfy her.”

  When Veronica protested, Winter grasped her arm. “Let me handle this.” She turned back to Christine, her eyes squinted in anger. “This isn’t about me at all, is it? Pandora turned you down flat at the club and you’ve never been able to take rejection. And that she preferred me over you, really rubbed salt into the wound.”

  A hiss exploded. “How dare you.”

  “You know what?” Winter said, her anger under control. Her fears bled away. Pandora had liberated her, made her realize what a true relationship meant. Not the farce she had endured with this vitriolic woman—the demoralizing, the abuse, the put-downs. “You’re not worth losing sleep over. Whatever you say can’t hurt me anymore. You’re an egotistical show pony who’s got the emotional depth of a cartoon cutout.”

  Christine’s eyes widened in shock. Then her features hardened. She leaned forward and ground out, “You’ll never be able to satisfy anyone. You’re dull. Boring.”

  Strangely, the viciousness had no effect on Winter this time. Water off a duck’s back. At long last, Christine had lost the capacity to hurt her. She was truly free. “Just go,” she said quietly. “You’re making a fool of yourself.”

  “Damn you to hell, Winter,” she snapped, then turned abruptly and strode off without another word.

  Winter stared into the distance, too mortified to look the woman beside her in the eye. She only turned to look at her when Veronica said vehemently, “That woman is a really, really nasty piece of work.”

  “Yes, she is. I’m sorry you had to hear all that. It must have been totally embarrassing for you,” Winter said, then added with conviction. “But you know what. It was the first time I’ve had the gumption to really stand up to her.”

  “And good for you.” Veronica touched her arm with her fingertips. “I hope you didn’t take what she said to heart. You’re anything but boring.”

  Winter smiled, grateful for the support. “I endured those hateful remarks for the most of our relationship. All that time I thought it was my fault.” />
  “You don’t think that now?”

  “No. Not now. I’ve been shown what true respect and affection is like.”

  Veronica’s gaze sharpened. Uncertainty played across her face. Winter knew she was struggling to find a way to ask the question that had to be eating into her. She didn’t have to wait long.

  “What exactly is going on with you and Pandora, Winter? You flew to her defence like she means more to you than just a friend.”

  She gave her an apologetic shrug. “She does.”

  Confusion clouded Veronica’s features. “You and Pandora are together?”

  “Yes. I was going to tell you later on tonight.”

  “Oh. Aren’t I the fool. I thought she was with Jessie.” Veronica’s flinch was barely noticeable, but it was there.

  Heat flooded Winter’s cheeks. Christ, she’d made a mess of things. “Sorry. It’s complicated. That was an act for Michael’s sake. We were trying to stop him annoying Pandora at the club.”

  “I don’t think Jessie was acting.”

  “No, she wasn’t,” Winter agreed, shifting uneasily under her scrutiny. “I intend having a word with her during the week.”

  “I feel stupid. I assumed you were interested in getting to know me…or hoped anyway. I thought we suited each other.”

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you or lead you on. I feel like a shit for doing this to you. We do have a lot in common, but the heart wants what the heart wants. I’d like to be your friend if you’d let me.”

  “Being new in town, I guess I need a friend just as much as a lover, so I’m okay with that. Disappointed, but I’ve learnt to be pragmatic about things. Win a few, lose a few as the saying goes.” Veronica regarded her kindly. “I hope it works out for you. After meeting that dreadful woman tonight, you deserve someone who makes you happy.”

  “Thank you for saying that. I haven’t earned your generosity. Pandora and I have just started dating, so who knows what will happen.” Winter forced back the prick of tears. Yeah…right. She knew perfectly well what was going to happen. She was going to have her heart broken and there was nothing she could do about it. Her feelings for Pandora had as much chance to burning out as stopping the sun rising.