by Jean Joachim
She nodded.
“I think that woman is waving at you,” he said pointing to Linda Davis.
“What woman? I don’t see anyone,” Caroline said, turning to look the other way.
“Right over…oh, I get it. I get it,” he chuckled.
She smiled up at him and raised an eyebrow.
“Your mother?”
In spite of herself, a smile slipped across her lips. “Very perceptive.”
“I read minds in my spare time,” said the stranger with a smile of his own. “And find tables for beautiful women who can’t seem to find a place to sit.”
He placed his hand on the small of Caroline’s back and guided her to a table away from Linda.
“There happens to be a seat free right next to mine,” he said, pulling out the chair.
“What a coincidence,” she remarked, taking the seat and placing her drink on the table.
“Would you like another drink? Or champagne, perhaps?”
“Ooooh. Champagne would be delicious,” she said.
The tall man glanced around and snapped his fingers. Within seconds, a waiter dressed in black and white appeared.
“What can I get you, Mr. White?”
“Dom Perignon, a bottle, please,” he said, then seated himself.
The waiter gave a small bow and left. Caroline noticed his smooth, self-assured way and the hint of upper class schooling in his voice. Curiosity ate at her.
“Mr. White?” Caroline asked.
“Bradley Riordan White. My friends call me Brad. And you are?”
“Caroline Davis,” she said, offering her hand, “but my friends call me Sunny.”
“I love the name Caroline, it has dignity. Do you work?” he asked, his eyes connecting with hers.
His interest in her took Caroline by surprise. She was ready for any attempt to cajole her into bed, but she wasn’t ready for a man with a sense of humor who wanted to know who she was. She was flattered and suddenly quite interested in Bradley Riordan White.
“I’m an artist,” she said.
Brad’s eyes lit up and his smile got bigger. Before he could start talking again, the music began. Caroline smiled when she recognized , “The Way You Look Tonight.” Brad stood and offered her his hand. Caroline slipped her hand into Brad’s and allowed him to lead her toward the dance floorjust as the waiter arrived with their champagne.
“Uncork and pour, please, Henry,” Brad said, slipping a twenty dollar bill in the waiter’s breast pocket.
“Of course, Mr. White.”
It all happened so quickly, so effortlessly, Caroline had never been in the company of a man as sophisticated as Brad White. She was both impressed and a bit intimidated. He took her in his arms and held her close but not too close. Everything about Brad White seemed to be perfect. He put his cheek on her hair as they waltz around the room. He smelled of the most expensive men’s cologne, the fine fabric of his tuxedo caressed Caroline’s hand as it rested on his shoulder. The tailoring followed the slender lines of his body perfectly. Like it was made for him…which it probably was. When they returned to the table, they sipped the cold champagne and continued their conversation.
“You don’t paint weird stuff do you, like Picasso? What is your best medium?”
“I’ve heard Picasso called many things, but you’re the first one with the nerve to call him weird,” Caroline quipped.
“I call them as I see them. He’s not my taste at all. But you are. What is your painting style?” Brad asked, taking her hand and lacing his fingers with hers.
“I paint like my father did, realism with a touch of impressionism,” she said, ignoring the tingle she felt from his hand locked with hers.
“Right up my alley. What are your best subjects?”
For the next hour, Caroline told Brad all about her art while they ate dinner. He not only appeared sincerely interested but knowledgeable as well. They shared favorite artists and paintings, laughed about phoneys and pretenders in the art world and never took their eyes off each other. Brad slipped his arm around the back of her chair and moved it down until it was around her shoulders. Caroline welcomed his closeness, not budging from her seat.
“I’d love to see your work,” he said, finishing his last bite of the rich chocolate dessert.
“Is this where I invite you up to see my etchings?” She laughed but maintained eye contact, losing herself in his warm gaze, leaning slightly closer.
“Would you?”
“I live with my mother.” She smiled. “And I don’t do etchings.”
“Then can I invite you up to my place to see my etchings…and I actually do have etchings.”
It took effort not to choke on her drink as Caroline laughed at him. She finished her glass of champagne, but when Brad moved to refill it, she put her hand over the top.
“That was my third drink of the night. Enough…thanks.”
“Who’s counting?”
“Me.”
Brad refilled his glass and put the bottle down.
“So how about it? Will you come home with me?”
Caroline barely finished swallowing her drink when she burst out laughing.
“At least you’re direct.” She chuckled.
“Come on, Caroline. You’re the most beautiful woman in the room. There would be something wrong with me if I didn’t want to take you home.
“I’m going home alone tonight, Brad.”
“Worth a try. Can I drive you home? My car is waiting outside. I would like to see your work, even if you do live with your mother,” he said, smiling. He typed something on his cell phone. At Caroline’s quizzical look, he told her, “I’m not texting another woman, just my driver, Harry.”
Caroline motioned to her mother and the three left the ballroom together. Outside, a short man with brown hair held open the door to a silver Bentley. Brad motioned the ladies in first, then squeezed in next to Linda.
“Strong family resemblance,” he said.
“Thank you,” Linda replied.
When they reached the Davis apartment, Linda entered first and headed to the kitchen to make coffee. Caroline took Brad’s hand and led him into her room. He sat on the bed while she pulled out several canvases. Brad picked up the paintings and moved to the living room where the light was better. Linda served coffee while Brad studied and analyzed the paintings. He gave Caroline some advice and much praise. She focused on his words, nodding in agreement most of the time. After an hour, he stood up.
“Time to go,” he said.
“Thank you for your critique, Brad. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”
“You have a huge gift, Caroline. Don’t waste it,” he said, leaning over to kiss her lightly on the lips.
He shook Linda’s hand then disappeared out the front door and into his waiting car.
Linda fell back on the sofa with her hands clasped in front of her bosom.
“Jackpot!”
Chapter Six
Caroline joined her mother on the sofa, handing her another cup of coffee.
“He’s the one, Caroline.”
“He likes my art, Mom.”
“He likes you, too. I saw the way he looked at you, like a wolf at a lamb. I’m not that old, darling…ah…I see grandchildren in my future,” she said with a contented sigh.
Caroline laughed as she got up to clear away Brad’s coffee cup and saucer.
“You do like him, don’t you?” Linda asked, putting her hand on her daughter’s forearm.
“How could I not like him? Anyone who loves my art, well…”
“He’s tall, good-looking and probably rich as hell…maybe even old money,” Her mother said with a sigh, resting her chin on her hand.
“Mother! Are you selling me to the highest bidder?” Caroline asked, raising her eyebrows.
“I only want a secure future…a happy life for you where you don’t have to worry about money,” her mother stated.
Caroline got into bed but she cou
ldn’t shut off her mind. The idea of a man being interested in her art was thrilling and unexpected. She went over the evening again and again in her mind, concentrating on the suggestions Brad made. They were all sound and showed he knew something about art. She never thought about having a patron, a mentor, someone who cared enough to make her well-known. The idea seemed like a wish come true.
The next morning a dozen red roses arrived. They were from Brad. In fact a dozen red roses arrived every Monday for the next month. Brad took Caroline out almost every night. They went to every gallery in New York City, especially the fashionable ones. Brad was a backer of several stylish galleries. He took one of Caroline’s paintings to the Madison Duguey Gallery and they took it right in to be prepared for display. Caroline was floored.
Their relationship moved ahead almost as fast as her career started to take off. Linda vacated the living room early, leaving Brad and Caroline time to be alone. Kissing became petting on the sofa but then stopped.
“Guess I’m spoiled. I’m used to a comfortable bed and complete privacy when I make love to a woman,” he said.
Brad invited her to his family’s house in Greenwich for the weekend and Caroline accepted. Linda bubbled with anticipation as she watched the wealthy young man courting her daughter. She sewed two new outfits for Caroline to take to Connecticut and gleefully waved goodbye to her daughter when the silver Bentley came to pick her up.
****
Caroline couldn’t believe her eyes when the posh car pulled into a long circular driveway. The white house with dark green shutters seemed to go on and on. As soon as Harry, the chauffeur, opened the car door, Brad appeared on the front steps. While Harry carried her bag, Brad whispered in her ear.
“I’m putting your bag in the guest room, but you’re more than welcome to stay with me.”
Caroline gave him an enigmatic smile, since she hadn’t made up her mind if she wanted to sleep with him yet. Brad took her to the guest room, which was decorated all in apricot and light yellow. The small flower print wallpaper reminded Caroline of Laura Ashley. The silk apricot bedspread had several pillows in white and yellow. On the dresser, a large gray vase held a dozen light apricot roses.
“I know this is a beautiful room, but it’s missing one thing,” he said.
She arched her eyebrow at him quizzically.
“Me, silly!” He chuckled as he brushed a stand of hair from her face then rested his hand behind her neck for a moment.
Brad took her on a tour of the magnificent house, ending with a stark room that was almost empty.
“This room is in transition. I haven’t decided what it’s going to be yet. But I thought…if things work out for us. . .” He seemed reluctant to admit what was on his mind. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes darting around the room, then his gaze settled on her face, as he finally finished in a rush. “Don’t you think this room would make a great art studio?”
Caroline looked at the big windows facing North, perfect for diffuse lighting. In the empty space, she pictured an easel, maybe two easels, the space was certainly large enough. She’d need a cabinet or dresser to store her supplies, shelves for canvases. Her imagination soared. Never in a million years would she have imagined a room like this could belong to her. She was speechless.
“No opinion?” he coaxed.
She threw her arms around his neck and pressed a passionate kiss to his lips while her body came up flush against his. . He responded, pushing her gently up against the wall. He deepened the kiss and Caroline softened against him. She had made her decision.
Chapter Seven
Six months later, Caroline and Brad were inseparable. They went to every gallery opening and Caroline had a few shows of her work, arranged by Brad. He threw an elaborate cocktail party with champagne, shrimp, hot hors d’oeuvres and fancy chocolates for each show. His friends hosted parties for her, too, and soon her work was selling. Not just a few sales, but her artwork was flying out the door. The buzz at the most elegant cocktail parties was all about who bought the latest Caroline Davis painting and how much they paid. . Caroline Davis had arrived in the art world. Finding it more and more difficult to paint in their small apartment, she thought about the empty room in the house in Greenwich.
“So when is he going to propose?” Linda asked her daughter.
Caroline shrugged.
“You’d be so much more comfortable in his big house in Greenwich,” prodded Linda.
“Probably.” She smiled at her mother. “But as he hasn’t asked the question, so what can I do?”
“He’ll ask,” assured her mother with a confident smile.
Brad swept her away. She was dizzy with the excitement of her growing fame in the art world and the rich lifestyle. He took her to all the fanciest restaurants, showing her off as his beautiful creation. She plowed the money from her art into buying more and more expensive clothing. After all, she convinced herself, an important artist needed to look the part. Her improved quality of dress was not lost on Brad. He even took her to some of the expensive shops on Madison Avenue for a little shopping spree. The better she looked, the happier he was.
Linda encouraged her to pull Brad closer and closer. They spent every weekend together at the house in Greenwich. Caroline even met his mother, who lived in the Carriage House on the four-acre property.
Still, Brad had made no move to make their relationship permanent. Caroline wondered why as he seemed so besotted with her. They had not even exchanged the words, “I love you” yet. She made up her mind to say it to him first if he didn’t speak up. After all he did for her, it was one way she could give back. She’d save it for the right moment after they made love.
When she arrived at the house in Greenwich on a cold December day, Brad had a hot toddy waiting for her and a fire in the fireplace in his cozy den. She curled up on the sofa and sipped her drink.
“You look beautiful,” he said, eying her hungrily.
It had been a week since they had been together. She smiled at him, thinking how much she missed his attention, his warmth and his lovemaking.
“I think it’s time we moved in together. What do you think?” he blurted out.
She stared at him in surprise. Of all the scenarios that had run through her mind, she hadn’t been expecting that one.
“Living together…well…I’d prefer…”
“What? What would you prefer?” He said, moving closer to her on the sofa, running his hand up her arm.
“Something more permanent?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Marriage?” he asked, his eyes wide.
“Crossed my mind.” She chuckled, standing up and walking to the large window, where she pushed the curtain aside and gazed up at the moon, but spied a star first. She made a silent wish.
“Hmm. I’m not much of a believer in that sort of thing. Still. If that’s what I have to do to secure you in my bed…”
“It’s more than sex isn’t it?” she asked, turning to look at him and returning to the warmth of the fire by sitting on the loveseat.
“Of course, of course,” he said, brushing aside her concerns.
“Maybe we should table this discussion.” Caroline set her glass onto a coaster on the fine wood coffee table.
Brad moved to join her, staring into the fire, mesmerized by the flames for a moment before turning to face her.
“Caroline, we’re a great team, marry me, and we’ll take the art world by storm. I’ll make you number one and keep you there,” Brad said, his eyes glistening.
She was speechless. This was not the type of proposal she had envisioned. She saw he looked as smitten as ever as he moved in to kiss her. She opened her lips to him, waiting to feel the magic she expected when a man proposed to her, but it didn’t come. He held her close for a moment longer then broke and stared into her eyes.
“Well?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“Yes. Yes, I will,” she said, smiling, resting her hand on his arm.
“Wonderful,” he said, rising from the loveseat, “now we have so much to do.”
He whipped out his cell phone and sent off two text messages right away.
“Who are you texting?” she asked.
“Mum, of course, and Sylvia. Her to-do list is now doubled. We have a wedding to plan. Aren’t you going to call your mother?” he asked her.
She nodded and dug into her bag for her phone. Caroline got up and walked to the window again, but the moon was hiding behind a cloud. She shivered once as her gaze drifted over the frozen landscape, half covered with snow. Engaged at Christmas! Every women’s dream. Her mother would be so happy she would probably go out and dance in the street. Caroline chuckled as she opened the phone and dialed.
“Mom? Are you sitting down?” she asked, smiling broadly.
Chapter Eight
It was a perfect day in June. Caroline paced in the guest room in Greenwich. Her mother pushed the door open with her foot as she held two Cosmopolitans in her hand.
“Here, drink this. It’ll calm you down,” she said, handing one to her daughter and taking a healthy sip from the other.
Caroline did as she was told, swallowing a large gulp. Caroline always did as she was told, or did she? Feeling too nervous to stand still, she put the drink on the nightstand and continued pacing. The rustling of the satin, strapless dress was soothing.
“I don’t see what you’re so nervous about, Sunny.”
Caroline abruptly stopped pacing and turned to stare at her mother. “You called me Sunny,” she whispered.
“Guess I did. I was thinking about your father. He would be so happy today,” Linda said, brushing a tear away with her hand before taking another taste of her Cosmo.
Caroline drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I suppose he would.”
“As long as he knew you were happy…you are happy, aren’t you?”
She nodded.
“Why so nervous then?”
“It’s a big step, Mom. I wish…wish I…oh, I don’t know.” Caroline sank down on the bed and directed her gaze out the window. “How did you feel on your wedding day, Mom?”
