by Andrew Grey
I had been trying for something different, but Beau was right. I hadn’t included one thing for the eye to settle on. “I don’t know. I have a spot for it, but I haven’t figured out what it’s going to be yet. The typical thing would be a heron or egret, maybe a duck, but I don’t want any of those. They’re too predictable.” I plunged my brush into the cup of thinner, deciding I would need to resolve that small conundrum later. It was getting late, and obviously, as much as I wanted the piece done, it wasn’t going to happen. I sighed. “Is there something I can help you with?”
Beau nodded and handed me an envelope. “The invitations for the masquerade went out yesterday, but I wanted to personally make sure you got yours.”
“Thank you,” I said, still nervous about going.
Beau seemed to read my hesitation. “It will be fun. I promise you.” He rolled his eyes. “I know you artistic types like to spend your time with your art and all….” He winked. “Okay seriously, I know you’re kind of shy. That was pretty clear at the diner the other day. But you don’t have to be. You’re a nice guy, and others will see that if you let them.” Beau nodded, and I wondered how he could read me so easily. Maybe it was the counselor in him, or maybe Beau had a gift.
I gripped the invitation. The truth was, I had always wondered what the inside of the big house looked like, and it seemed I was going to get the chance to find out pretty soon. “I’ll be there. And I’ll have to see what sort of costume I can come up with.” Despite my misgivings, my nerves were giving way to excitement.
“Let that artistic mind of yours loose—you’ll come up with something interesting.” Beau’s attention shifted to the large vase. “It needs something tall, with a touch of color. Maybe a stork.”
There weren’t any storks in this area, but I figured I could look for some pictures to see if that might work. I still didn’t have an image to fill that space, but Beau had given me something to look into. “I’ll think about it.”
“See you later.” With a smile, Beau waved and left the studio.
“Don’t you rate,” Hattie teased as she came by with her purse hanging on her shoulder. She fanned herself with an invitation.
“What’s the big deal? He gave you one too.” I squinted at her, and she grinned.
“Yeah, but he stopped to talk to you, and what’s this about the diner? Moving up in the world.” She smiled. There wasn’t any jealousy in her—more like curiosity. Hattie really liked to know what was going on all the time.
“I went to the café for dinner, and they asked me to join them. They were just being nice. They were talking about the award, and Beau decided he wanted to have a party….” I held up the invitation. “I think I know who runs things in the big house, if you know what I mean.”
Hattie snickered. “He’d have to be tough as nails to handle the Beast.”
I rolled my eyes. “Dante’s always been nice to me. Though I never saw him for years, now he’s around more, so I suppose things are different.” Gossip wasn’t my thing. Of course, I’d heard the stories that Dante had killed his wife or some rot to that effect. I hadn’t believed it then and I still didn’t. Thankfully those rumors had died away, but old stories and beliefs died hard, and Hattie had been around long enough to have known Dante’s wife, so….
“I suppose. Still, it’s nice to see them opening things up and bringing them back to life.” She fanned herself with the envelope once again. “This will definitely give the town a boost.” She put the invitation in her purse and waved as she headed for the exit.
I pulled the actual invitation out of the envelope and smiled as I read it. It was extravagant, embossed, brightly colored, and for me and a guest. I put it back in the envelope and slid it into my bag.
I vowed not to tell my mother about it. She’d want to go with me, and that was the last thing I wanted.
MOTHER WAS thrilled when I got home.
“Jeremy got an invitation to a huge party up at the mansion.” She pursed her lips. “It seems there wasn’t an invitation for you.” She smiled. “Maybe yours will come tomorrow.” She did her best to sound conciliatory before hurrying upstairs.
Isabella entered the kitchen as Mother left. “She’s been thrilled since she opened Jeremy’s mail for him.” She got a glass of milk and sat down. “I’m sorry you didn’t get one. You deserve it more than he does.”
I shrugged, not sure I wanted to let on to anyone that I already had my invitation. “Doesn’t really matter. I can’t dance and don’t have a costume.” Not that I had anyone to dance with. I thought Dieter might have been interested, but that hadn’t turned out to be the case. I shrugged again and went into the living room. “What’s for dinner, Mom?” I called up the stairs.
“I’ll put something in the oven in a few minutes,” she called back down, way too happy.
“Leave her alone for now,” Jeremy said as he came down the stairs. “We’re going to that party next weekend, and she’s trying to figure out what to wear.” He brushed past me with a superior air. I watched him go, and Isabella and I shared a smirk.
“He really is a mama’s boy,” Isabella whispered as she walked by, and I put my hand over my mouth.
“He is taking her on a date. I wonder if that could be construed as incest,” I added, and she snorted. “Do you have homework to do?” I really wanted her to pass her class so she could graduate. It was her only real chance for a job somewhere that didn’t involve her asking if people wanted fries with that for the rest of her life. “Go get your books and I’ll help you.”
Mom rushed past in a flutter, going to the kitchen. She started making dinner, which was another of her casseroles from the smell of it. Lord, I hated those things. She’d fed us all the same thing last night, and there was little doubt there was another of those awful things for tomorrow night too.
“Isabella, you can do the dishes after we eat,” she pronounced.
Isabella, the poor thing, groaned and dropped her pencil.
“I have to go see what I can get to wear. Come to think of it, she never remembers anything. I’ll leave a list of chores on the table before I go.”
“Why? Because you were home all day and didn’t do anything?” I asked as she reached the bottom of the stairs, and she stopped with one foot on the first step. “Why don’t you do something besides sit around all day watching television?” I was getting tired of this shit. “I work, Jeremy works, and Isabella is going to school. You’re the lazy one around here.” I was probably taking my life in my hands, but the crap needed to stop.
She marched over under a full head of steam. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that under my roof!”
“This isn’t your roof. It’s Isabella’s dad’s. You never worked for anything.” I really wondered how I could be related to her. She could spend money on clothes and makeup better than anyone I’d ever seen, and anything she wanted, she got, but to lift a hand around the house was too much for her. “You just married to get what you wanted.”
She lunged forward, drawing her hand back.
“Don’t,” I told her firmly. “You can’t hit your way out of the truth. We all see it. So Isabella has schoolwork to do, and you can clean up the kitchen and the rest of the house. I’m through with this crap.”
“This is my house—” she said, lowering her hand.
“Then take care of it.” It really was becoming time I got the heck out of this house. I turned and sat next to Isabella to help her with her homework, looking over her assignment. “That’s right. Now do the next one, and take your time. You have all evening to get this done.”
Mom was pissed to no end, but I’d also hit a chord. She called us all when dinner was ready, having cleaned up her mess as she went. The meal was quiet, with Mom stewing and Jeremy flashing me dirty looks.
“Just because you didn’t get an invitation doesn’t mean you should take it out on Mom,” he whispered.
“Maybe, but she needs to help around here,” I whispered back and pushe
d my plate away. I was sick of the meal anyway. I took care of my dishes, putting them in the sink. “Ella, come see me when you’re done and I’ll check over your homework for you.” I left after meeting my mother’s gaze. This behavior of hers needed to stop.
I went up to my room and locked the door. Without hesitating, I pulled out the latest picture of Dieter and started working. I didn’t get far. The images wouldn’t come as easily as they had before. Maybe it was the disappointment of not seeing him for three days. Still, recalling his face was easy, and that smile… I thought I’d remember that forever.
I worked until Isabella knocked on my door, and after putting things away, I opened it to let her in.
“Why do you always lock the door?” she asked as she came in and sat at the desk chair. I kept my room very clean and sparse so I’d have space for my easel and canvases.
“Do you want Mom or Jeremy in your room?” I asked, and she shook her head, understanding. “Did you finish?”
She nodded, handing me her homework, and I looked it over.
“The first ones you did are really good. But these are wrong.” I went over one of the incorrect problems with her again, making sure to take it step by step. “Do you see where you made your mistake?”
We did the next couple together until I thought she had the process correct, and then I left her at the desk to finish the last problems.
“Isabella!” Mom yelled up the stairs.
I patted her on the shoulder and went to the living room. “She’s busy and needs to be left alone to work.”
“There are things I need her to do.” Mom sat back down, handing me a list, which I read over and ripped up.
“She has other things she needs to do, and you need to leave her alone. Ask Jeremy to do some things around here.” I turned and went to the stairs.
“Don’t you talk to me like that!” she shouted, the springs of her chair creaking as she sat back.
I ignored her and climbed the stairs once more. When I’d reached the top, I heard the doorbell. After a few minutes, Mom called me down. I checked that Isabella was still working and then went to see who was there. Dieter stood just inside the door, and Mom was back in her chair, being rude.
“Hi,” I said softly, blushing. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
Dieter stepped forward. “I wasn’t able to come to the Bay yesterday because of meetings in Baltimore. I just got back, and Beau told me where you lived, so I thought I’d stop by to see if you wanted to have a late dinner.” Dieter looked around, and I wondered what he saw. My mom barely looked up from the television, like she’d been hypnotized, and Jeremy sneered as he walked past in ratty jeans and an old T-shirt that looked like it had seen better decades.
“That would be nice.” My stomach suddenly remembered how little I’d eaten. “Let me go up and get a jacket. I’ll be right back.” God, the chance to get out of here for a while was too good to pass up. I hurried to the stairs.
“Do you have a date?” Isabella asked as she came out of my room.
“He’s a friend I met at work.” I checked over what she’d done quickly. “You’re almost there. Finish up what you have left, and I’ll look at them again in the morning.” I leaned closer. “Watch television in your room and stay away from the Wicked Witch of the West downstairs.” With the ups and downs of my mother’s moods lately, I was really starting to think she needed medication, but any attempt to bring it up was met with anger and a brick wall of denial. When she got sort of comatose like this, she could sit in her chair for days watching television and sleeping, doing little else. “You’ll be better off if you stay away from her, okay?”
Isabella nodded, went to her room, and closed the door quietly.
I went back down the stairs to where Dieter waited near the front door. He must have tried to engage my mother in conversation but wasn’t having much luck, and seemed relieved when I joined him. We left, heading to Dieter’s Mercedes.
“Your mother is…,” he said, not seeming to know how to finish his thought.
“I think she’s ill but doesn’t want to deal with it. There are times when she stays up all night, pacing the house because she can’t settle down, and then there are days when she can’t get out of bed. She’ll watch television for hours on end and forget to eat or anything.” I opened the door and got in, and Dieter did the same. “She refuses to get any sort of help and is either quiet or mean as hell to everyone.” I sighed. “Sorry. You didn’t need to know all that.”
“It’s all right.” Dieter chuckled. “My family isn’t necessarily the best example of mental health either.” He pulled out of the drive and pointed the car toward town. “I’m sorry if I left you sitting out by the Bay waiting for me. There was nothing I could do, and I didn’t have your number at that time so I couldn’t tell you I wasn’t going to be there.” He cleared his throat. “Beau gave it to me, and I thought I would see if you were at home.”
“I’m glad you did.”
I wasn’t sure what sort of dinner Dieter had in mind, but I wasn’t dressed for anything fancy. Still, he pulled up in front of one of the nicer restaurants, and as I got out, I checked that I didn’t look like a complete slob. My jeans and polo shirt weren’t elegant by any stretch of the imagination, though they were better than the kid sitting in the waiting area with rips in his jeans and a T-shirt with enough depicted gore to make anyone lose their appetite.
We were led right to a table, and Dieter waited for me to sit.
“What sort of business do you do? Other than porcelain?” I didn’t know very much about him at all.
“I basically work for my family, running their interests. When my father passed away, he had a vineyard and a few other business ventures that I have been trying to figure out how to move forward. The vineyard is all right and the grapes are good. He had visions of making wine, but I’ve been selling the grapes. I don’t think they’ll make good wine on their own, and there is so much overhead involved with the wine-making process. As it is, the grapes turn us a profit, so I’m content with that. We have some other businesses and own some land… things like that.” He sipped from his water glass before opening his menu. “I don’t understand restaurants here. They try to do so much.”
I shrugged. There was nothing I had to compare them to.
“In Europe, menus are often smaller, and restaurants do only what they can do well.” Dieter continued reading over the menu.
“I think I understand. Here they try to please everyone.” I looked mine over as well. “A friend at work once told me not to order from the bottom.”
Dieter set down his menu. “What?”
I pointed. “The things they put at the bottom are generally the things added to round out the menu. What they do best is usually front and center.”
“I see.” Dieter smiled, and when the server returned, he ordered one of the fish dishes.
I asked for the trout as well, and the server took the menus. “I was really surprised to see you.”
“I bet you were,” Dieter said. “In some circles, my showing up at your house like that would be considered rude. But I didn’t want you to think I had forgotten you or… how do you say… blown you off?”
I had thought that. “Yes. I understand.” Things suddenly seemed forced and a little difficult between us, which had to be because I was so damn nervous.
All around us, people ate and spoke in hushed tones, candles flickering on white tablecloths. Most everyone was dressed in nice clothes, and soft music, not from a radio station either, even played in the background.
“What is it like in Germany, where you’re from? I’ve never been. I’ve never really been anywhere.” There was never time, and my family had always needed the money I made.
“There are tall mountains and rich valleys. I live in one of those between Munich and Füssen, in a family home. There is much land around for grazing cattle. I also raise hay for the animals. It’s quite beautiful.”
“It sounds it
. Do you get snow? We get some here occasionally in the winter, but it depends on the year. Most of the time it just rains, and other times we get tons of snow.” I talked quickly, probably my nerves taking over.
“Yes. The mountains have snow much of the year, and we get snow in the winter, sometimes a lot of it. There’s festivals and things around the snow and winter. In Munich there’s a huge Christmas market for much of December, where people can buy traditional craft-made items, cider, hot wine, and food. It’s a real festive tradition. A number of cities have a market like that. I think one of the most famous is Nuremburg.”
The server brought small salads, and I ate mine slowly, listening intently, enthralled by what he was telling me between bites of his own.
“My village has a small holiday market, mostly for the local people. A few go into Munich to sell their crafts. It’s always a huge time for the people there. After Christmas, everyone basically settles in to wait for spring.”
I chuckled. “Me too. I hibernate as much as I can during the winter. It’s cold, and the weather is often cloudy. Sometimes I go to the Bay, but a lot of the birds have moved on and only the heartiest stay around. The wind off the water is really cold and goes right through your clothes. The tourists are gone and the area pretty much closes down.” I finished my salad, looking at Dieter as he dabbed his mouth with the napkin.
“Do you like it here?” Dieter asked.
I nodded. “It’s a nice place to live. In the summer we get breezes off the water, and that helps keep us cool. There’s all the activities on the water. We have boating and fishing, if you like that sort of thing. Wave runners skim over the water, and there are shops downtown that sell things to the tourists. Everyone knows everyone here, and sometimes that can be a blessing and a curse.” I smiled as Dieter nodded.
“Yes. Everyone knows who everyone is, but that means they know one another’s business and they talk about it. Gossip is a constant source of information. You have that here. Beau told me some of the gossip that surrounds Dante. He said a lot of it was false.”
