The Artist's Paradise

by Pamela S Wetterman

  #

  As she opened the door to leave, she heard the land phone ring. Why couldn’t she let a phone ring? She turned around and hustled back to the pesky sound.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi, this is Catharine Walker, customer service for Tiffany’s. Is Ms. Williams available?”

  “Williams? You must have the wrong number. There is no Williams here.”

  “Do you know a Gina Williams?”

  Gina Williams? Why would she leave our phone number? “Well, yes. But she doesn’t live here.”

  “We had a purchase and personal delivery from a Gina Williams on Friday to 84 South Elm Street. I wanted to ensure the delivery was satisfactory. Is this the phone number for that address?”

  Last Friday? Angie’s heart sank. She slowly folded under the weight of her body and collapsed onto the sofa. Gina sent the anniversary gift? Jonathan did forget. What a liar.

  “Yes I know Gina Williams. What delivery are you inquiring about?”

  “Actually, the order was confidential. I need to speak to her. Is she available?”

  Angie let out a long breath. “No, not at this number. She works downtown. Did she leave you an alternate number?”

  “Yes, we have a second number. I’ll try to contact her there. Sorry to have disturbed you.” The caller hung up.

  Disturbed her? How about destroyed her. Why did she think for one minute that Jonathan had changed? She was used like an old familiar book and then put back on the library shelf. He thought he could play her, but he wouldn’t get away with that any longer.

  She needed help, and she needed help right now. She picked up her cell phone and called Vicki. Her best friend always knew what to do.

  “Hi, Girlfriend. How are you this lovely Monday?” Vicki asked.

  Angie’s shoulders knotted. “Mad as hell. Jonathan’s a jerk. No, he’s a cheat.”

  “What happened, Honey?”

  “That bastard I used to call my husband really did forget our anniversary. I just got a phone call from some woman in Tiffany’s customer service. She asked to verify that my package arrived. Gina ordered my anniversary gift, not Jonathan. And it was ordered the day after our anniversary.”

  “Well, he’s busted, isn’t he? Now what do you want to do?”

  “I don’t want to see him for a while. Can I stay with you? I need to think, and I can’t do it here.”

  “Of course you can. But remember, this is the weekend for my trip to see Susie in Knoxville. I still want you to come with me.”

  “It’s the first time you’ve seen Susie in weeks. Why don’t I just stay in your condo while you’re gone?”

  “Nonsense. It’ll be fun. An all-girls’ weekend on campus. I can hardly wait.”

  Angie rested her head on the back of the sofa. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Pack up a few things. I’ll be there in an hour.”

  She leaned forward and stood. “I’m sold. See you in an hour or so. Honk your horn, and Mister Tubbs and I will come right out.”

  Chapter 9

  Jonathan jackhammered his fingers on the oak courtroom table. Where could she be? Angie never arrived late. He’d been very specific about the time. The judge would enter the courtroom in less than five minutes. He couldn’t even call to check on her—no cell phones were allowed when court was in session. Jonathan turned toward the wall-clock at the back of the courtroom and glared at the time. How could she be late? What was her problem?

  He jogged outside into the hall, whipped out his cell phone and punched in his office phone number. Gina would have to do the follow up.

  “Hi, Boss. What can I do for you today?”

  “You can track down my tardy wife and help her to get here ASAP.”

  “Sure thing. Is she planning on coming to court today? Or is she tardy for an appointment somewhere else?”

  “She promised she’d be in court to watch my closing arguments. You know how important this case is for my career. Just get her here.” He slammed his cell phone closed.

  #

  Angie grabbed the phone and answered on the second ring

  “Angie, it’s Gina.”

  Angie bit her lower lip. “Yes, I know,” fired the brisk response.

  “Sorry to bother you. Jonathan called me from court to see if you were on your way downtown. He’s excited to have you there for his closing arguments today. Will you be there soon?”

  “No, something came up. I’m not coming. Give him my regards.” She slammed down the phone.

  #

  Jonathon spotted Gina entering the courtroom. She handed him a manila envelope, then turned and left without a word.

  He stared down at the envelope and requested a short recess. As the judge agreed, he read the note twice, crumbled it up in his fist, and stormed out. He entered a private office and slammed the door behind him. As he paced the 8 by 10 foot enclosed office, he grabbed the phone and dialed home. No answer. He tried Angie’s cell phone number—still no answer. “What the hell’s wrong with you? I won’t be disrespected this way.”

  Jonathan checked his watch. He needed to get back into that courtroom. Fine, let her send her regards. She would miss seeing him close the most important case of his career. It was her loss, not his. He didn’t need her. He had the case sowed-up. She’d become high maintenance. He had higher priorities. He would handle this later. He slammed down the phone and stomped out of the small office.

  #

  Angie glanced at the land phone sitting on the side table in her living room as it rang for the sixth time. She had no stomach for Jonathon’s nastiness and drama. The pesky ringing relocated to her cell phone. She raced up the stairs to her bedroom. The time had come to vacate the premises before he came home and made a scene. He was an expert at creating a diversion when he didn’t get his way. But not today, he wouldn’t get his way today.

  She grabbed a small overnight bag from her closet and packed enough clothes for a week. She turned to Mister Tubbs as he watched the packing ritual. “He’ll miss me. When he begs, I’ll come home. Surely that won’t take more than a couple of days.”

  Mister Tubbs wagged his short tail. She plopped down on the edge of the bed and gathered him up in her arms. “Yes, of course. You’ll be coming with me.”

  Back downstairs with all bags neatly packed, Angie paced in front of the fireplace. Why was there always so much silence in this big house? A home this grand should have tiny footsteps racing and playing with children’s laughter bouncing off the stone and wood floors. Her baby-clock was ticking. Her marriage wasn’t.

  When she and Jonathan were dating, he had been so attentive. He would take hours to explain case law to her. He discussed historical cases that helped defined the legal standards of today. She believed Jonathon would become a great attorney. His passion for defending those accused of wrongs urged him on, making sure everyone had a chance for justice. He often worked pro bono cases, concerned the defendant might not get a fair trial without his help. He sometimes got into trouble with his boss. Nevertheless, he continued to convince his law firm to get behind his cases. And with his track record, they used his skills on very sensitive, high-dollar clients. His firm made millions. He had a reputation as a rainmaker.

  Angie flopped down in the armchair next to the fireplace. “It’s not his fault he’s famous and busy, is it, Mister Tubbs? So why do I get so bent out of shape?”

  No answer came.

  The grandfather clock chimed twice. Vicki should be here by now. Angie glanced out the living room window. Vicki was her only real friend. The person she could call day or night and share her most intimate thoughts. Shouldn’t Jonathan be that person, her confidant? Except, he played her like he played juries. How can you have a confidant without trust?

  “Why don’t I have other close friends, Mister Tubbs? I think Vicki’s right. I am definitely in need of some self-correction. I’m boring and friendless. Well, not altogether friendless, I’ve got one thousand four hundred and se
venty-nine Facebook friends. Doesn’t that count? No, probably not.”

  Mister Tubbs snored on the sofa.

  Really? She even bored her dog.

  She heard two short beeps—Vicki’s signal. “Let’s go. We’re going to get a personal makeover. Me that is, not you.”

  #

  Jonathan rocked back on two legs of the leather chair and looked around the empty courtroom. The big day was over. He’d delivered an amazing closing, even if he had to say so himself. He could see it in the jurors’ eyes. His client was innocent, and the jury understood why. Now all he had to do was wait for the verdict and the large bonus that would follow. Imagine, being given a one hundred thousand dollar bonus. What a rewarding day. But he’d wanted to share it with Angie. Damn her. Why did she act like this?

  Had she learned he’d forgotten their anniversary? What if she had? No big deal, really. He loved her and that was all that should matter. Women, why were they made so different? You forget something important to a man and nothing. You forget your wife’s wedding date, and it’s unforgivable.

  Chapter 10

  Jonathan arrived home Monday evening shortly after seven-thirty p.m. to discover the brownstone dark and silent. He tiptoed into the foyer and flipped on the lights. He wandered from the living room into the kitchen and then mounted the stairs to inspect the master bedroom. No Angie, no Mister Tubbs. Not even a note. She was gone.

  He trudged back down the two flights of stairs and headed to the bar in his private office. He poured a scotch, neat, and drank it in one gulp. Pouring a second drink, he sank into his desk chair with a thud.

  Someone knew where she went. He picked up his desk phone and punched in her mother’s phone number. Sharon answered immediately. “Sharon, it’s Jonathan. Did you talk to Angie today?”

  “Yes, a quick call early this morning. She babbled with excitement. Seems she was heading out to court to watch you win your big case. Why?”

  He grabbed his scotch and took a swig. “Oh. It’s nothing, really. She’s not home—no note.”

  “Don’t you think she’s probably out walking the dog? Or did something happen today?”

  “She missed my closing—said something came up.”

  Sharon sighed. “What could have been important enough to prevent her from court? She sounded so happy this morning.”

  He stared out the darkened window. How to explain? “Nothing has happened. Everything’s great. I’ll have her call when she gets back home. Thanks.” He hung up the receiver before she could respond.

  Next call—Vicki. After the sixth ring, the call went to voice mail.

  He left a message and hung up. He slumped in his leather chair.

  Jonathan pulled out his contact list and proceeded to call every friend and family member in the Chicago area. No one knew where Angie was. He slammed down the phone. How dare she leave? Where in the hell had she gone?

  By nine-thirty p.m., he dragged himself from his desk and wandered into the kitchen. His stomach growled. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He found leftovers in the refrigerator from the anniversary dinner. He warmed the salmon in the microwave. This would be a very long night.

  #

  The tightness in Angie’s shoulders vanished. With no mention of Jonathan, her headache disappeared. The two friends spent the afternoon chatting about nothing. No discussion of her parents or their pending divorce. Vicki openly joked about her misadventures with her newest dating service. She had the knack to make anything, no matter how small, into a funny story.

  After a light dinner and hours of conversation, Angie stretched and yawned. “I hate to spoil our fun, but I need to get some rest.”

  Vicki eyed her. “Rest? Of course, what was I thinking? You’ve had a long difficult day. Bedtime, it is.”

  Upstairs in the guestroom, Angie changed into her favorite pink silk pajamas, washed her face, and crawled into bed. Mister Tubbs jumped up and tucked himself in beside her. She looked into his deep black eyes as he turned toward her with a questioning stare.

  “I know. Let’s get it over with.” She cradled her cell phone in the palm of her hand and entered her home number.

  Jonathan answered on the first ring. “Angie, my God. Are you okay?”

  She caught her breath and re-positioned herself in the bed. “I’m all right.”

  “What’s going on? Where are you?”

  “I’m at Vicki’s.”

  “And why are you at Vicki’s?”

  “I’m spending a few days with her, and then we’re going to see Susie. I need some alone time to think.”

  “Think about what? Are you still angry with me?”

  She jerked the phone away from her ear. How could he not know how badly he’d hurt her? “I can’t talk to you now. I’ll be home next Tuesday. We’ll talk then. Goodbye, Jonathan.”

  She closed her cell phone and turned it off. He wouldn’t keep her awake all night with his repeated calls, not tonight. This time belonged to her. Jonathan, so self-focused, would discover that she had the right to a life, too.

  Angie settled into bed with Mister Tubbs, arms around his chubby middle, and fell into a fitful sleep.

  #

  The two best friends spent the next three days relaxing. Angie found it refreshing to be with another woman. She appreciated the ease of the routine they fell into. Neither of them desired heavy meals. Yogurt and fresh fruit started their day. Shopping ended up with a light salad for lunch, and dinner was whatever they wanted from the fridge.

  If a dish required washing, one of them noticed and took care of it. The trash was taken out without drama. They discovered they had so many things in common to talk about. Reading and television offered peace and quiet. Angie had happily landed in paradise.

  Friday arrived quickly. Angie climbed into the car and snapped Mister Tubbs into his doggie seatbelt. “Here we go.” Vicki started the car. “Hang on, I feel like setting a new travel-time record.”

  Vicki told stories of her childhood and the trials of being a bashful and gawky youth. Her pudgy frame ignited a great deal of teasing. Having to wear glasses when she entered kindergarten provided more fuel for jokes at her expense. “I took it all in stride,” she said. Her stories, full of wisdom and humor, brought giggles and tears.

  How different teenage life had been for Angie. By the time she was twelve, she was over five-foot eight. She reached her full height of five-foot ten at the tender age of fourteen. Naturally statuesque and socially adept from a young age, she never lacked male attention. Her experience as part of the popular crowd provided an under-challenged life. As head cheerleader, she could date any guy she wanted. She dated athletes who also did well in school. Many of her boyfriends had been emotionally shallow. Maybe this was a pattern she kept repeating.

  “Vicki, what are single men like today? I mean the ones you have dated?”

  “Sorry to say, your Jonathon is typical of most of them—self-centered, career-driven, and power hungry.”

  Angie pondered Vicki’s comment for a few moments, and then she asked, “Do you ever regret getting a divorce?”

  Vicki turned and gave Angie a sharp glance. “I have so many memories of my failed marriage. It still hurts after six long years.” She turned down the radio and bit her lip. “The part I played in driving Patrick into the hands of another woman haunts me. He should have never strayed, but I was too busy with my career.”

  A female Jonathon?

  “I can see how a woman with a career could neglect her husband. But my issue is not a career, I’m not sure I even have a life.”

  “A woman can have a career and a happy marriage if she is fulfilled, challenged, and independent. A marriage requires both parties to make sacrifices. But, you can have it all if you work for it.”

  “Jonathan is the one pouring himself into a career. I am the forgotten one.”

  ”You and Jonathan love each other. You can work this out.” Vicki patted Angie’s hand. “If you want a career, go for it. Just rem
ember to make Jonathan number one in your life.”

  Angie crossed her arms and paused. “I hope you’re right.”

  “Look, whatever happens, you’ll be okay. Sit back and enjoy this delightful scenery.”

  “It’s gorgeous. Not at all like Chicago.”

  Reclining in the seat, the sun warmed Angie as she rode along Interstate 75. Her artistic gifts stirred as the bland scenery transformed into a spring pallet. She marveled at the rolling green grasses—adorned with red and yellow wildflowers. She was in awe with the natural beauty of the Red Bud trees that graced the edges of the forests and the Bradford Pears bursting with clusters of white blossoms.

  As they approached Knoxville, the outline of the Smokey Mountains rose before her. The crisp air energized her as she rolled down her window a few inches and drew in a deep breath. What a beautiful place Tennessee was.

  Chapter 11

  Vicki stopped the car, hopped out, and, tossed the car keys to the valet service. Susie stood in front of the restaurant digging in her purse. With the actions of a mother lioness, she wrapped her arms around her daughter and squeezed. Angie mused. Would her mother have ever done the same thing? She thought not.

  “Honey, it’s wonderful to see you. But you’re so thin. Are you eating?”

  “Yes, Mom. I’m eating, studying, getting good grades, and avoiding all the wild parties. Any further interrogation before we can get a nice dinner?”

  Vicki flushed. “Sorry, old habits return. I know you’re eighteen and emancipated.”

  Angie stepped up to greet Susie and smiled. Eyeing her blond hair cropped short, pink highlights streaked around her face, and her petite figure almost boney, she said, “Looks like college agrees with you.”

  Susie pulled away from her mother’s embrace, eyelashes rapidly batting in mock surprise, “Wow, look at you.”