by J. M. Madden
“You’re kidding! I have to get your recipe. When I tried to make them they came out flat as pancakes.”
The housekeeper seemed surprised that Sarah had any association with an oven, but tickled to talk to somebody about cooking. Although, she refused to give Sarah the croissant recipe, stating it had been her mother’s recipe and she would hand it down to her family when the time came. Sarah understood perfectly and talked about some of her own family and their recipes. Faust seemed intrigued by her background and the time flew as they chatted. Sarah learned that William the butler was her husband and they had been with the Gallagher family for many years, since leaving England, and their son Bradley was at the Cordon Bleu School of Culinary Arts in Paris. Sarah could tell Faust was incredibly proud of her son and let her talk. They only stopped their conversation when Mr. Gallagher came through the swinging door, a scowl on his face. Faust jumped to her feet with a gasp as she took in the time on the wall clock.
“Oh, Mr. Gallagher, I am so sorry. I lost track of the time. I’ll get your coffee immediately.”
Sarah jumped up as well and began clearing their tea things from the table. “It was my fault, Clayton. We were talking and we lost track of the time.”
She gave him a smile and Clayton could feel his glower melting away. She looked so fresh and young this morning, with her face freshly scrubbed and her long hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. A rim of fluffy bangs curled over her forehead to rest on her dark brows, and Clayton found he couldn’t bring himself to be upset at the interruption to his schedule. He was glad she was settling in so well but a bit disturbed that she already seemed more comfortable with Faust than he was himself; the woman had cooked for the household since before he was born!
In one corner of his mind, Clayton recognized that he was envious of this outgoing woman standing there in his kitchen., He could talk for hours if the subject was business, technology, or investing, but in a social situation where he had to converse about other things though, he found himself floundering. That was when he removed himself, sometimes physically, from the conversation. Most of the women he knew viewed his withdrawal as a challenge and pursued him that much harder. Clayton had very few actual friends, most were just acquaintances. He was aware of that, and he felt very isolated at times, but was unable to project himself enough to change the status quo. Beauregard Walker, his best buddy and Senior VP, was at the LA branch of Clarion. They each traveled to meet up with the other occasionally for a golf game or a session at the race-track, but it had been several months now. Clayton had not told Beau anything about Sarah yet.
Returning to the subject at hand, he waved her explanation away. “Do not concern yourself. No harm done. It was just…unexpected.”
Turning, he made his way back to the dining room. He seated himself at his regular spot and started to scan The Journal. Just a few seconds later, Sarah came through the door carrying a carafe of coffee. His eyes couldn’t help but follow her as she retrieved a cup from the sideboard and returned to his elbow to pour him a cup of his favorite brew. His eyebrows drew down in aggravation as she seated herself to his left.
“You are not my servant. You do not need to serve me.”
Sarah shrugged and tucked a leg under her bottom. “I was coming out anyway, and it saved Faust a trip. Her hip is bothering her today.”
She turned back to her own steaming cup of tea and Clayton mulled over what she had told him. “What’s wrong with her hip?”
Sarah raised her large green eyes to his and pressed her lips together contritely. “I don’t think I was supposed to say anything. She fell on the back steps a couple of weeks ago and she’s been achy ever since. Just bruised, she said, but I know for a fact some bruises are terribly painful.”
“Why didn’t she say anything to me about it?” he demanded. “Did she have it checked?”
Clayton put his cup down in agitation and planted his hands on the table. He could feel his heart starting to thump with anxiety and he made an effort to relax. He waited for Sarah to continue as patiently as he could.
“Yes, she got checked out. Nothing was broken, just badly bruised.” Looking at him from under her lashes, Sarah told him quietly, “I think she was worried about missing work if she told you. She’s had Marianne come in for more hours recently to help her out.” She reached out and grasped his hand. “Please don’t tell her I told you. I don’t think she even meant to tell me anything, but people just … kind of talk to me.”
Looking at her bright eyes shadowed with concern, he could completely understand why people would open up to her. Sarah had an open …non-judgmental quality about her that fostered confidences. Even he, the man who prided himself on his stoicism, had fallen under her spell, within mere hours.
Clayton forced himself to pull his hand away and look down at his coffee cup. Maybe if he didn’t look at her as much she would not be able to ensnare him any more than she already had.
He almost laughed out loud at himself.
*
Sarah turned her attention back to her tea, wishing she could still hold his hand, but there was no call for it right now, and it would just make things uncomfortable. She wished she had the right to hold his hand just for the hell of it, anytime she wanted. But perhaps that would come later, if she could get him to relax a bit.
Just after seven o’clock, Marianne began bringing in several chafing dishes full of food to the huge oak sideboard, smiling a good morning. Victoria also came in, rubbing her eyes and grumbling about the early hour, but smiling anyway at Sarah and her uncle. They all filled their plates and settled down to eat.
Pushing her glasses up on her nose, Victoria asked her uncle if he was going to work today, because this seemed awfully late to be heading in to the city. Clayton looked a bit uncomfortable and avoided Sarah’s eyes.
He nodded his head and swallowed the rest of his orange juice, his Adam’s apple bouncing. “Yes, I’m going to work. I just got a late start.”
Victoria looked at him incredulously. “You’re never late, for anything.”
“I was today,” he growled.
“I think it was our fault actually,” Sarah told the girl. “Faust and I were talking and the time got away from us.”
Victoria looked at her quizzically from her black-framed glasses. “You were talking to the housekeeper?”
Sarah smiled and nodded her head. “Yes, I was. She’s a very nice woman.”
Victoria looked at her as if she had two heads. Maybe that was why Clayton had been so surprised as well. The family apparently did not talk to the staff unless absolutely necessary, or it concerned the actual running of the house. Sarah had a strong feeling the dividing lines were very clearly marked in this house and neither party dared to cross them; they had been that way for decades, if not a couple of centuries. How sad to actually be living with someone—for she now knew that the Fausts lived over the garage—and not know anything about each other.
The realization saddened her. What did she and Clayton actually have in common with each other? They had totally different careers and their personal lives were almost complete opposites. She was outgoing, fun, loved talking to people; a total country girl. He, on the other hand, seemed remote, and somewhat unfamiliar with real life. And she hated to say it, but as far as she could tell, the entire family seemed spoiled, from the youngest to the oldest. Although you may be jumping to conclusions. Give them a chance.
Smiling at Victoria, Sarah told her, “Servants are people too. They have lives and families just like you do.”
Victoria nodded her head slowly. “I guess I never really thought about it.” Ducking her head, she poked at her food with her fork, as if she were embarrassed. Sarah took that as a good sign. Perhaps the girl wasn’t totally spoiled yet. She hoped that wouldn’t change when she went away to boarding school.
Mr. Gallagher finished up his breakfast quickly and made his goodbyes, telling Sarah to call him if she had any problems, then out the door he wen
t. Sarah resisted the urge to follow him to the front door and watch him pull away.
Sarah and Victoria went through Victoria’s closet to find something appropriate for her to wear for the portrait, but they couldn’t find anything that was just right. Sarah had her put on a frilly blouse that was hanging way in the back and she let her keep the jeans she had on. Victoria was not especially happy about having the portrait done, but that seemed due more to being uncomfortable as the subject than a desire to be difficult. For the better part of two hours, Sarah took her all over the grounds and inside the house, posing her here and there, but nothing appealed to her as much as inside the solarium, with Victoria seated on the edge of the gurgling fountain. Victoria also agreed with the pose and told her it would probably be the easiest to maintain because she was sitting down. Sarah decided on a pose with Victoria leaning over the edge of the pool drifting her hand in the water, looking at her reflection. Sarah used a piece of chalk to put slight marks on the stones where Victoria was sitting and on the floor where she had decided to rest her feet. She lightly outlined the position of Victoria’s hand on the edge of the fountain.
Standing back, she surveyed the pose, and was happy with the composition. Victoria had beautiful, coltish lines. With the right, classically feminine dress she would be ready. Sarah was happy to have decided on a plan and retrieved her sketchbook to start roughing out the picture. Victoria was very accommodating and didn’t complain at all for several hours. She and Sarah talked about everything under the sun, from what was currently on display at the Smithsonian to what kind of car she wanted when she turned sixteen. Victoria confided softly that she wasn’t sure her mother would even get her a car, because they had a driver to take them everywhere. Sarah could not help but tell her that she needed to stand up for what she wanted, because people would just run right over her if she didn’t. Sarah had learned that from living in New York for two years.
She enjoyed Victoria’s company, though the girl was only twelve. She was articulate and sweet, and still naïve in many respects, but she was definitely spoiled. Her cell phone had rung with a current pop song several times in the first hour, until Sarah requested she turn it off. For a moment, Victoria’s face had turned stubborn but she had finally turned it off. Sarah let Victoria take a break after the first couple of hours, to use the bathroom and stretch. Victoria had checked her messages, but had not returned any of the calls, which showed a very adult restraint.
Marianne brought them a plate of sandwiches and fruit for lunch. Sarah chatted with her quietly for several minutes before the maid returned to the kitchen. Victoria was once again looking at her oddly, but she continued to eat her food in silence.
“Victoria is kind of a mouthful,” Sarah told her thoughtfully. “Do you have a nickname?”
The girl blinked at her from behind her glasses. “No,” she said slowly, though she seemed intrigued.
“What do you think about Vicky? No,” Sarah shook her head, knowing it wouldn’t suit her. “Maybe Tory. That’s kind of a cool name. Tory Gallagher.”
Victoria looked at her with one slim brow quirked in surprise, very similar to the way her uncle did. “I do like that. Tory. My mother won’t like it though. And my grandmother definitely won’t.”
Sarah shrugged. “They can still call you Victoria. That just seems like a mouthful for a young girl. Maybe we’ll just try it while we’re working.”
Tory nodded in agreement, looking just a little excited. After lunch they went out to check on Gracie.
“Wow!” Tory exclaimed. “That’s a huge dog.”
She hung back at the fence, as if afraid to get too close, but Sarah urged her to come inside.
“Gracie won’t hurt you. She’s just big and kinda clumsy. And super friendly. I actually got her to be a guard dog, but I think I got the wrong breed. She might lick a burglar to death, but she certainly wouldn’t hurt him, unless she sat on him or something.”
Looking at the drool decorating the dog’s mouth, Tory told her, “Maybe she could drown him. In slobber.”
Sarah laughingly agreed and they spent the next hour playing with an ecstatic Gracie in the dappled sunshine. When they returned to work, they were both chatting happily. Sarah pulled out her smartphone and took several pictures of Tory in her pose from various angles, so that she could refer to them if the girl was away or the light happened to be bad that day. For the next couple of hours, Sarah sketched away, until she reached a point that she couldn’t sketch anymore. She told Tory she could take off if she wanted because she was going to ready a couple of different sized canvases for tomorrow. Tory happily hopped to her feet, pulling out her bejeweled phone as she went.
Sarah was applying gesso to two different sized canvases when she felt a presence behind her. Clayton stood at the double glass doors to the solarium, briefcase in hand, just looking at her. Feeling a blush crawl up her neck for no apparent reason, she smiled at him. She was ridiculously glad to see the man. She’d been watching the clock since she cut Tory loose for the afternoon. Turning back to the blank canvases, she hid her face. She hear his shoes on the stone and could tell he was moving up beside her.
“It does not appear you accomplished much today.”
Sarah looked at him in surprise and found him looking at the empty canvases. She started chuckling when she got his meaning and pulled out her sketchbook, showing him some of the things she had done. He seemed very appreciative and commented on a couple of views he really liked. Sarah made note of them and dropped the sketchbook to the floor, returning to her gesso.
“This needs to dry for a while before I can paint on it. That’s why I’m getting it ready now.”
Clayton nodded his head in understanding and moved to sit on the edge of the fountain, almost exactly where Tory had been sitting earlier. He dropped the briefcase beside his feet and clasped his hands in front of him, legs spread, with his elbows on his knees. It was such a masculine pose that Sarah had to take a second just to look at the man. The waning sun was settling gentle shadows here and there, but a brilliant ray of sunshine burnished his dark hair with highlights. He was absolutely the most handsome man she had ever seen, and she had seen many while in New York. Her fingers itched to sketch him, but she had a feeling he would not allow that. Mentally, she began memorizing the image to be drawn later. He was too good a subject to waste.
The ‘subject’ was looking at her oddly, and Sarah realized she had missed some piece of conversation once again. “I’m sorry. My head’s in the clouds. What did you say?”
He regarded her thoughtfully for several long seconds. “Did you have any problems with Victoria today?”
“Oh. Good heavens, no. She was fine. After I pried the cell phone from her ear anyway.”
Clayton nodded his head understandingly. “Yes, she has become very dependent on that recently. Her mother thought it would help her become more social, but as far as I know she only talks to one person, her friend Cara.”
Sarah had heard the name several times today already and was familiar with the infamous Cara. Now that she thought about it, she realized that was the only name she had heard. Tory hadn’t talked about friends, only one friend, Cara. She’d have to look into that later.
Sarah decided now would be a good time to ask Clayton about a dress for Tory.
“I thought I would check the schedule you gave me and see when Tory would be busy. I need to go to the city and find her a dress. She doesn’t really have anything appropriate in her closet.”
“Tory?” he asked sharply.
Sarah looked up, curious at the tone. “Yes. Victoria is such a mouthful. She seems to like it.”
He blinked and his eyes lost focus as if he were remembering something. “I think Robert called her that a time or two when she was a baby, but Jillian didn’t approve. It’s funny that she likes it now.”
“She was worried about Jillian but I told her we could try it out for a while and see if it fit.”
Smiling, he no
dded, then returned to the original subject. “She doesn’t have any dresses in her closet?”
“Tons. She doesn’t have anything that’s appropriate for the portrait. I have an idea of what I want, but she doesn’t have anything even close to it. I know of a little boutique that carries only vintage specialty and couture; I have a feeling they’ll have what I’m looking for.”
“Ah, I see. I believe that on Thursday she has a language class in the afternoon. Perhaps that would suit your purpose.”
Frowning thoughtfully, Sarah nodded, “Yes, that should work. Maybe I’ll just have her take the morning off. I’ll go in for the day, collect my mail and check on my apartment. That way if Moments in Time doesn’t have what I want I’ll still have time to look other places.”
Clayton nodded his head and stood. “That sounds like a workable plan.”
Sarah smiled at the business talk. The man was in his own home, but he still had on his suit and tie, and held his briefcase. Sarah wondered if the man even owned a pair of jeans. Or sneakers. He was still speaking as if he was in a business meeting, which, Sarah thought sadly, she guessed she was. Just business.
Planting a smile on her face, Sarah began gathering up her materials. As she dropped her paints into the box, Clayton got up and stepped over to her area, briefcase in hand. He motioned to the far corner.
“Just put everything in the corner. There’s no sense in packing everything away every night. No one will disturb it.”
“Are you sure? I can put it in my room at night if that would be better.”
Shaking his head firmly, he waved a hand. “Don’t be ridiculous. Just put everything on the bench there and perhaps cover it.”
Sarah nodded her head and carried everything over to the bench he motioned to. Her materials didn’t take up that much room at all. Heck, the solarium itself was bigger than her apartment in the city, which was about eight hundred square feet. It had felt a lot smaller with Gracie in residence, but that was beside the fact.
Sarah pulled off her paint-smeared smock and draped it over the easel and canvas. Wiping her hands on her pants, she grabbed her sketchpad and pencils to take upstairs. There were several images running through her mind that she had to get down on paper. Her heart began to pound as she realized the subject of those images waited for her to join him at the French doors. She thought he had already left. She smiled as she came even with him and realized she must look like a mess. Ponytail holders did not hold her thick hair very well, and there was always some hair hanging at the end of the day. When she painted, unless it got in her face and really annoyed her, she gave little thought to what she looked like or what she wore. Looking at Clayton’s impeccable charcoal suit, Sarah felt unkempt but she smiled through her embarrassment.
