by Kim Bowman
She might resist, now that she had the gallery. But he’d be sure to leave several of his nicer paintings, and some of the local artists could fill in the gaps. There was plenty of artistic talent in the area.
As he made his way south, the sun rose above the waters, warming his face. The salty breezes always cheered him, and he pedaled faster.
The merchants on the Boardwalk were already hard at work, opening their shutters, sweeping, cleaning, and preparing for the day. Several of them waved and nodded as he rode by. Energy had been high since the Grand Opening. Every day several locals would stop him to express their thanks for drumming up so much business for the island.
He turned his bike down Oak Street and got off. He walked around the house and knocked on the back door. Before his hand returned to his side, it opened.
Rose stood at the doorway, and Charlie’s heart flipped when she smiled at him. He wondered if she knew just how lovely she was when she smiled. Attractive, but in a no-nonsense way. She was the type of woman who rolled up her sleeves and did what needed to be done. Sort of like his mother. No wonder Ma liked her.
She was his muse, his Lady Luck. And he would need his Lady Luck beside him for the next phase in his career.
“Good morning,” Charlie said as he entered the sunny kitchen. “I brought Mrs. Donovan’s painting. And I have some wonderful news.”
Her eyes widened, and he nearly drowned in the pools of gray.
“Oh, Mrs. Donovan will be so happy. You got it done much faster than she expected.”
He shrugged. “I wasn’t working on any other projects, so I did it right away.” He set the package down and reached in his pocket, pulling out the letter. “This came in the mail for me yesterday. I thought you’d like to read it.”
She took the envelope, pulled out the fragrant note, and opened it. He watched her closely as her wide eyes skimmed the page. Any moment now, he thought, she’ll get to the important part and she’ll be excited. But instead of the happiness he’d expected, her brow furrowed and her cute little mouth curved downward.
“So you’re leaving?” she nearly whispered.
“Well, not right away. The opening isn’t until October, after the tourist season here is done. I want you to come with me. You could close the gallery for a week — more if you wanted to. Your mother could come, too. Regina has plenty of room for all of us.”
“I’ll — I’ll think about it.”
“Think? Is there a reason you don’t want to go? I thought you grew up there.”
“I — did, but I haven’t been there in several years. I don’t have the right clothes. And some of my memories of that place aren’t good ones.”
“I’m sorry for that. Why don’t you come with me and make some new memories? Regina is a wonderful hostess. You’d have fun.”
“Mother would enjoy it, I suppose, but she’s so frail lately. She wouldn’t be able to keep up with us, and she shouldn’t be left alone in a hotel room. I’ve been watching her, making sure that she eats, because if she doesn’t she not only gets weaker, she gets confused.”
“Has Doc McManus seen her lately?”
“No. Not since the day you sent for him. Still, I’m pretty sure she’s been overdoing it. She’s started to make friends with some of the women nearby, and they often come to visit. When she gets nervous or excited she forgets to eat, even when there’s food in front of her.”
“If she’s got friends, that’s a good thing. They’ll help look out for her. Maybe she could even stay with one of them while you’re gone.” He gazed into her eyes, begging her to change her mind. “Please, Rose. I need you with me. Good things happen when you’re with me.”
Rose’s cheeks flushed to a deep red, and her voice quivered with anger. “I can’t send my mother off to someone else’s home so I can go away! That would be like sending a dog off to a kennel or boarding a horse at a stable. My mother is not a pet, and I will not treat her that way!”
Charlie held his hands up as if warding her off. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that you—”
“Your mother is fortunate to have three children to look after her. My mother has no one except me, and I take that responsibility very seriously.”
“Of course you do. I just thought—”
“I can’t just drop everything and leave. My mother needs me, so I need to be here.”
Charlie knew when to retreat. He felt behind him for the doorknob, wanting to make a quick getaway. “I understand. Hope Lily’s better soon.” He backed out the door and hopped on his bicycle. Maybe he’d spend the afternoon painting at home.
Chapter Fourteen
Summer turned to fall, and as the leaves changed color, vacation homes in Wildwood closed and tourists dwindled in number. Businesses along the Boardwalk shut down for the winter, but the Sheffield Gallery remained open. Clients continued to make their way from metropolitan areas all along the east coast to the gallery.
Charlie painted every day. He and Rose had finally reached an uneasy truce. His contract with the gallery assured that a certain number of paintings would remain in Wildwood, and he kept that promise.
It felt good to be back in New York City. Charlie breathed in the smells and took in the sounds of the busy streets. It had been nearly six years since he’d been there, and Central Park now looked like a huge flower garden, thanks to Mayor LaGuardia’s efforts. He strolled through the park, taking in all the improvements that had taken place since he’d left.
Rose would like it here. He still couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t come with him. Surely there was someone else to watch over Lily. A week or two away from the gallery would give Rose a nice break. Truthfully, he needed her there. Rose was his Lady Luck. Good things happened when she was with him. From the time she touched that painting to the time she’d kissed him at the gallery opening, only good luck had come his way. Before leaving Wildwood, he’d convinced her to touch each and every painting bound for New York. Hopefully, her good luck would work long distance.
Maybe he should find some sort of souvenir. A gift, to thank her for helping him revive his career. Something to show his appreciation. What could he get? She wasn’t someone who demanded a lot. In fact, she’d never asked for anything.
He stopped in his tracks as a voice inside his heart nudged him.
She asked for understanding when she said she couldn’t come.
What kind of man was he, always taking from her and never giving back? The one time she’d asked for anything, he’d been unwilling to give it to her. Yes, it would have been grand to have her along. She’d been responsible for his recent success, but she had a life that didn’t include him. He scowled as he continued his walk across through the park. A pair of small children chased each other, cutting back and forth across the path in front of him, but their playfulness failed to cheer him. The idea that he’d taken advantage of Rose bothered him, and he wanted desperately to change that. Another thought entered his mind, and he stopped again.
Would it be possible to persuade her to be a greater part of his life?
~~~~
Four hours later, he stood in the lobby of Thurston-Perry Galleries, holding a glass of champagne and trying not to look bored. Around him, men in formal suits and women in furs greeted each other before entering to peruse the collection of art Regina and her business partner had gathered. His paintings were somewhere inside, and he supposed he ought to go and mingle. But he couldn’t gather the enthusiasm. Without his Lady Luck, how could anything go right?
“Why aren’t you mixing with the patrons, Charlie? You can’t possibly be nervous.” Regina Perry materialized beside him, wrapping her silk scarf around her ample neck. Glittering stones hung from her ears, outshining a plain, though well-preserved face.
Charlie shrugged. “Not nervous, Regina. Just mustering up the inclination. I’m not going to be a good advocate of the gallery and my work if I’m not in the mood.”
A perfectly painted eyebrow rose. “Pro
blems back home? I would imagine the Sheffield Gallery is not happy about losing their biggest draw.”
“No, I promised I would keep several pieces there. But I’d hoped Miss Sheffield would come with me to New York for this opening.”
“You wanted her to see what a real gallery was like?”
“She’s familiar with New York galleries. Her family lived here until her father died. I just wanted her here with me. It seems things go better for me when she’s around.”
The woman’s expression softened. “Do I detect a romance?” she teased.
“Perhaps. All I know is, I feel better when she’s around. I’m more motivated. My painting is better, and life in general is better.”
Regina reached out and patted his cheek. “That, my young friend, is love. Miss Sheffield doesn’t bring the good things to you, she inspires and brings out the good in you. When you’re inspired, you do better work. When your work is better, your outlook is happier. And life in general is better, no matter what the circumstances really are.” She let her words sink for a moment. Then she straightened his tie and brushed off his jacket, much as his mother would. “I’d hoped to convince you to move back to New York. I have friends in high places who could do wonders for your career. But I have the feeling I’d be wasting my time. There’s a young lady back in New Jersey who has your heart, and you need to be where your heart is.”
~~~~
Rose finished folding a load of towels and took them to the linen closet. Charlie would be in New York by now, and if she had gone with him, she would be registered in the Waldorf-Astoria, not having to worry about laundry. Or any other domestic chore. She could have been, at least for the weekend, a member of the pampered, privileged society that she had once been a part of.
But there was no way she could have left her mother. Why couldn’t he have understood that? Her little fragile flower of a mother could not take care of herself. And since they couldn’t afford to pay someone to watch over her, she needed to be here to see to it that Lily ate and had clean clothes to wear. She’d been right about him all along — as an artist, he thought about himself first and others later.
There was the gallery, too. Attendance was much lower now that the vacationers had left the area, but they still got visitors from Cape May and Philadelphia. A gentleman from Washington had come in a week ago and placed an order for a dozen of Erin Grady’s rugs for his shop. Did Charlie expect the gallery to just run itself? She sniffed. Thankfully, he hadn’t taken everything and left the main gallery empty.
She checked in on Lily, who sat at her writing desk, corresponding with friends.
“I’m going to go downstairs now, Mother. I’ll take your breakfast dishes with me. Can I get you some tea? A snack?”
Lily swiveled in her chair and smiled as Rose picked up the breakfast tray. “Thank you, dear. Tea would be lovely, but please don’t hurry. I saw you gathering the laundry already this morning. You work too hard.”
“It’s nothing, Mother. I’ll put the kettle on while I do some dusting in the gallery.”
“All right, dear.” Lily returned to her writing.
Rose made her way downstairs and filled the kettle then picked up her cleaning rags. She’d dusted the ceramic pieces in the sitting room when a loud knock rattled the front door. Her heart skipped a beat, but then she remembered — Charlie was in New York. The gallery wasn’t scheduled to be open today. Perhaps it was one of the other artists bringing more of their work in. She hurried to open the door.
Erin and Mabel Grady stood on the step, each holding a basket. “Hello, Rose,” Erin said. “I’m surprised to see you here. I thought you’d be gone to New York with Charlie.”
“Er, no. Mother wasn’t up to the trip, and I just couldn’t leave her here alone.”
“Why not? Is she ill?”
Rose shook her head.
Erin continued, “We brought a nice pot of chicken soup and fresh baked bread for her. And Mama here baked a chocolate cake. If you haven’t already started to fix lunch, we’ll bring this through to your kitchen so we can heat it up for her.”
“Oh, of course. How sweet of you!” She pulled the door open wide to allow the women to enter and then followed them to the kitchen. The aroma coming from the baskets made her drool. “Everything smells heavenly.” She took the now singing kettle off the burner and filled the teapot.
“We can’t have Lily wasting away again.” Mabel sliced the bread as she spoke. “Charlie told us how she fainted away when you first started putting a lot of time into setting up the gallery, and we wanted to make sure she had no excuse to go hungry.” The two women bustled about her kitchen, and soon a tray was ready to take upstairs.
“Shall we wait until Lily is done eating? If you like, I can just pick up the pot later in the week when it’s my turn to come back,” Erin said.
“Your turn?”
“Yes, didn’t Doc tell you? When my son Donald was in his office getting his finger sewn up — he’s so accident prone — we started talking about the gallery and speculated that you’d be going to New York for Charlie’s showing. Doc wondered who would take care of Lily, since she doesn’t know how to cook or even warm things up. I said, ‘Well seeing that Lily and Rose were responsible for me being able to take Donald to the doctor and not worry about feeding the family, it’s the least we can do to take care of Lily.’ So a bunch of us got together and made a schedule. Lily won’t go hungry, not on our watch.”
Rose didn’t know what to say. It was overwhelming to have such a support system, to know that a group of people cared enough to plan and execute such generosity. She’d never thought she’d be able to share her responsibilities.
“I had no idea this was happening. You are such angels to take care of Mother like this. I didn’t go to New York because I had no idea she would have people like you looking out for her.”
Erin shrugged. “It’s nothing. We look out for each other around here. You’re one of us. You took care of our family by opening this gallery and getting folks to come and notice us. And that helped everyone. It’s only right that we help you, too.”
Tears pooled in Rose’s eyes. “Thank you so much.” She wiped her eyes with her apron. “I’ll take this up to Mother. Are you sure you want to leave all this food here? There’s so much more than she can eat.”
“I’ve got a better idea,” Erin countered. “Why don’t I take the tray up to her while you start packing a suitcase? I think you’ve got a train to catch.”
Chapter Fifteen
The rhythm of the train’s engine slowed, waking Charlie from his restless slumber. He opened his eyes, wincing from the bright lights shining through the windows. They must be nearing Atlantic City, where the glittering casinos attracted professional gamblers and hopefuls like Uncle Phineas.
After speaking to Regina, Charlie had left the gallery and packed his suitcase, leaving on the late night train. Now it was early morning, and he needed to purchase a bus ticket back to Wildwood.
As the train came to a stop, Charlie stood and picked up his suitcase, ready to depart. But something made him glance out the window once more. The northbound car rested on the opposite track with people already boarded for the trip to New York. A pretty young woman in a gray coat sat by the window opposite him.
“Rose!” He dropped his suitcase and flew toward the window. Why was she going to New York? Though he knew she probably wouldn’t hear, he pounded on the glass.
But whether she heard it or not, she looked up — and into his eyes. Her own eyes widened, and her mouth opened in an O. She stood and put both hands on the window.
“Hey, buddy, it’s the end of the line. You need to get off so we can clean the car.”
Charlie nodded at the conductor then motioned to Rose that he was getting off. Would she get off, too? Would she let him apologize? He dashed toward the doorway and down the steps. And then he ran. Well, he moved as fast as he could though the crowd, cursing to himself. Why did I choose to si
t so far back in the train? Carefully dodging the other passengers, he moved as quickly as possible, apologizing as he bumped into a few, until he finally made it to the end of the platform at the front end of the train and cut left toward the northbound track.
Just in time to see the train pulling away.
His bag dropped to the platform and he bent over, breathing hard from his exertion and utterly dejected at losing his chance to speak to Rose. Should he buy another ticket and go back to New York? How would he find her there? Was she headed to the gallery, or was she going to visit friends from her college days?
“Charlie?”
Did he dare hope? He called on every saint his mother and the nuns in school had taught him about. And then he straightened.
It was her. His Rose came toward him, lugging a huge suitcase. She’d been in the front car of the outbound train, and she’d had as far to walk as he had. Forgetting his fatigue as well as his suitcase, he rushed toward her. She, too, dropped her bag and ran. They came together in a flurry of emotion as they wrapped their arms around each other. His lips met hers in a hungry kiss. They clung to one another, and he searched for the words to tell her how glad he was to see her, how much he needed her.
“Hey, folks, I’m sure you’re happy to see each other, but you need to go on inside the station.”
They broke apart then, and Charlie picked up both suitcases, gesturing for Rose to go ahead of him and nodding his head at the bemused conductor as he led the way to the terminal. The man tipped his hat and winked as they walked by.
Once inside, Charlie ordered two coffees and found a small table away from the bustle of the station.
“Why did you—” she began.
“Where were you—” he asked at the same time.
They laughed, and he gestured for her to speak. “Ladies first.”
