"I'll do that myself," I told him. "Part of the service."
"Not necessary," he said, carefully carrying my canvas up the front steps.
"No, I know how to do it and I'd like to. It'll be my present."
"You really are my angel." He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. I saw admiration in his eyes, and it made me feel funny inside.
Chapter Nine
My stepfather and mother were both home when we came into the house. I went to my room, got my easel, and set it up in the living room. Then I carefully took the painting from Kevin, placed it on the easel, removed the cloth and stood back.
"Well, what do you think?" I asked the three of them. I took a deep breath and braced myself for whatever reaction there might be.
At first, no one said a word. I bit down on my lower lip.
"It's incredible!“ Kevin said. “Even better than when I saw it last week. You've captured Caron. It's like you've performed some magic and transferred her spirit from life to canvas." Kevin looked at my mother. "Don't you think she's a terrific artist?"
My mother looked from Kevin to the painting. "I don't know your sister, but it is a very nice picture," Mom agreed.
My stepfather was more critical, his head cocked to one side. "You’ve given the girl an awfully dark look, black hair and eyes, kind of eerie. Is that what you meant to do?" He turned toward me doubtfully.
"That's my sister," Kevin said emphatically. “Caron is a little scary.”
"Well, let's hope she likes it. Otherwise, you'll have to return the money. You've always got to give people full value for their money."
Kevin raised his brows in surprise. "Now I know where Danna gets her set of values."
"Where do you get yours?" My stepfather asked pointedly.
I was mortified, but Kevin fielded the comment like a pro. "I haven’t had as righteous an upbringing as Danna, but I do recognize and admire ethics in a person. Danna’s earned her money whether or not my sister or my mother approves the portrait. I happen to know how hard she’s worked on it."
I tried changing the subject. "My art teacher says that artistic ability runs in families. She asked me who in our family was an artist."
My parents exchanged a look that I couldn't read.
"No one I know of, but that's not to say there couldn't have been someone." Mom seemed uneasy.
Kevin turned to me then. "I'll see you tomorrow evening about six."
When Kevin left, I hoped I wasn't in for another lecture and another warning. I waited with my arms crossed and braced myself.
"There's something about that boy I just don't like," my stepdad said.
"He's great once you get to know him."
"We'll have to take your word for it," Mom said, putting her arms around me. My stepfather didn't respond. Now why didn’t that surprise me?
****
Framing the picture took quite a bit of time the following afternoon. I was looking for the tools I needed in the garage when I knocked over Dad's work chest. The commotion brought him to the doorway.
"What's going on here?" he said.
"I need to frame the portrait."
"You know how to set it up, do you?"
"Sure, I've done it before." But I'd never worked on a quality frame like this one. My work was amateurish and I knew it.
"Go right ahead," he told me. "Help yourself to what you need."
I soon discovered it wasn't all that easy. I knew what needed to be done, all right, but I also needed help doing it. My stepfather didn't say anything. He was watching me though. He came up beside me and began helping me work. He cut metal stripping down with pliers and then used a gimlet to make holes in the stretcher and frame before inserting the screws. He was very skilled. When he was finished, I tried to thank him, but he just turned his chair to the house, moving like a relentless steamroller. He was in his room when I came in.
I packaged the painting carefully so the canvas wasn't touched by the paper. Then I spent a long time getting myself ready. My makeup was limited to blush, eyebrow pencil and some pink lipstick. I borrowed a strand of black onyx beads from my mother. They were my Christmas present to her the year before. I don't remember her ever wearing them though. I put my hair up, piling it on top of my head in a twist; having finally decided that wearing it down made me look too unsophisticated for New York.
When Kevin arrived, I was ready. He wasn't dressed quite the way I had expected. Instead of a suit and tie, he wore a brown leather blazer, beige cashmere turtleneck, dark chocolate cords and comfortable-looking suede shoes.
"Am I over-dressed?" I asked him.
"No, I'm under dressed." He flashed his fabulous smile. "Mind being seen with me?"
"Never," I assured him. I asked if we were taking his mother with us.
"No, Sheila rented a limo for Caron and herself."
"Wow, I'm impressed."
"Don't be. It's the way Sheila was used to traveling before the divorce. She always had a car and driver at her disposal in the city. She misses that. We could have gone with them, but I prefer taking my own car."
I called out to my mother, and she came from the kitchen to say goodnight, but my stepfather remained in his room. For a moment, when he had helped me with the framing, I felt as if he really cared about me, but now here he was demonstrating his disapproval by staying away. My mother kissed my forehead as Kevin lifted the painting.
Mom handed me her shawl, the one she wore only on special occasions. “Put this around you,” she said. “It’s chilly out. You’ll need it for warmth.”
“Thanks.” I gave her a hug.
Mom touched my cheek. “You’re growing up so fast,” she said. “I hope not too fast.”
I shook my head. Then I placed my mother’s shawl around my shoulders like a protective mantle as Kevin and I walked out the door.
Kevin was in a peculiar mood. He seemed distant and preoccupied, as if something were troubling him. Was he embarrassed to bring me to the party? I couldn’t help feeling nervous and uncomfortable. His mood rubbed off on me.
"Something the matter?" Kevin asked as we drove along. How like him to be sensitive to my feelings.
"I'm a little afraid I won't fit in. I don't think I'm going to have anything in common with the people there."
Kevin took my left hand in his right one, using only his left hand to drive. "You'll fit in better than I will. Anyone with any brains will fall in love with you just like I did."
I stared at him, my mouth gaping. Did he just say something about loving me? He couldn’t really mean anything. I decided it was his way of saying that he liked me. "You're just being nice."
"No, it's the truth." He squeezed my hand.
I played the radio for the rest of the drive, not certain what else I should say to Kevin. We weren’t even at the party yet and the evening had taken on a surreal quality. Kevin seemed content to concentrate on his driving.
The hotel where the party was held happened to be located in a large skyscraper of a building. We took an elevator to the top floor, traveling so fast that my ears popped. We were led by a tall man in uniform to a huge, glass-walled room. The view of the city below was spectacular. The ceiling was a firmament replete with brilliant stars. The lights had been dimmed to help create the illusion of infinite space in the dome.
Kevin carried my painting to where the presents were set up on a large table. I looked at all the elaborate gift-wrapping and wished I had done the portrait up fancier, but Kevin seemed unconcerned.
"Come on," he said, "let's get a drink. The bartender will fix anything we ask for."
"Just a ginger ale for me."
"Stay here," he said, "I'll bring it to you." Before I could say anything else, he was gone, disappearing in the direction of the bar.
I looked around at a sea of unfamiliar faces and felt lost. Then I saw Caron. She was standing with Gar Hansen, Alicia Connelly and Moose. There were other kids as well, some from my school, others I'd never seen b
efore. There was no denying that Caron had a flair for dramatic effect. Her dress was gold, a shining metallic affair, with jewelry to match, totally sophisticated and chic. Her makeup and hair were flawless. She looked like a billion dollars. Gar looked great too. It was an interesting contrast, her dark beauty matched with his fairness.
I found myself joined by Kevin's mother.
"So happy you could make it," she said with a plastic hug. Her curly black hair was freshly coiffed. "I'm delighted Kevin is still seeing you. He told me how wonderful the portrait turned out."
I felt my face redden. "He exaggerated."
"Kevin? Never! He knows about art. His father has a fine collection, worth a fortune. Robert always talked to Kevin about art. I must pay you the rest of your fee. Please remind me next time we meet. I’m not carrying any money with me tonight."
Kevin returned with our drinks. She stared at him with a petulant pout. "Really, couldn't you have worn a suit tonight? Must you always be difficult and odd?"
“I’m an individual. Conformity is boring, Sheila. You ought to know that."
He kissed her cheek before she flitted away. Then Kevin handed me a drink.
"This doesn't look like ginger ale," I said holding the long-stemmed glass up to the light.
"It's a Shirley Temple. No alcohol. I think you'll like it."
Actually, I didn't, but I tried to drink some of it anyway. Kevin, it seemed, was allowed to drink what he wished. I wasn't particularly happy about that. With his second brandy sour, I reminded him that he was driving.
"No problem," he said cheerfully.
We met Gar and Caron over at the buffet table. Caron was telling Gar that he simply had to try the caviar.
"Yes, it's imported," Kevin observed. "Nothing quite like the Russian stuff.”
Gar put a little of black caviar on a cracker and sampled it, then frowned.
“You have to develop a taste for it, Hansen. Enjoying fish eggs is an acquired sensibility. Caron loves the Beluga. Ignore the taste. It costs a bundle. I'm sure it'll suit you."
Caron responded to her brother's mocking tone with a cold stare. Gar ignored him completely. He glanced at me for a moment and then walked away. Caron followed after him.
It was strange; I had looked forward to this night with such anticipation. I had been totally wired. And now I just felt letdown, out of place and disappointed. Maybe it was because I didn't know anyone there except Kevin, his family and Gar.
Different people drifted over to Kevin. They stared at me but he rarely bothered with introductions. He seemed annoyed with them, his attitude bordering on rudeness.
"Relatives," he explained. One elderly lady seemed to irritate him in particular. She asked him about school and where he was planning to go to college next year. "I'm thinking of offering my services to the Air Force as a fighter pilot," he said half-jokingly.
"You should consider your future more seriously," the old woman lectured.
Kevin countered with a faint smile. “Haven’t you heard: life is absurd?” He took my hand and led me away. "Mother's maiden aunt. I'd see her when I was little. She'd pinch my cheek and say how adorable I was. My cheek used to hurt for days. If she so much as raises a finger in my direction, I'm taking off."
There were a number of girls circling around Caron. Noticing Kevin, several of them broke away and approached him. They appeared intent on flirting with him. One pretty blonde pushed me aside and threw her arms around his neck, kissing him open-mouthed. He pushed her away and gave me an embarrassed glance.
"They're Caron's friends from boarding school days," he explained when he pulled us away from them. There was lipstick on his mouth. I wiped it away with a napkin.
"They seem to know you too, or at least one of them does."
"Just casually."
Somehow, I doubted that. "I can only imagine how they'd act if they knew you well."
We laughed together then. "I’m glad you’re not the jealous type.” He caressed my cheek. “Let's feed our faces," Kevin said, indicating the shrimp rolls and stuffed mushrooms a waiter was carrying by us.
I looked at the buffet table groaning under the weight of so much food. "What happens to all the food that's left over?" I asked.
"It's thrown away," Kevin answered.
I was appalled. “How can they just throw it away? Won't they give it to the poor or the hungry?"
"No way," he observed indifferently. "Caterers don't operate that way, neither do hotels nor restaurants."
"That just doesn't seem right. Such a terrible waste."
"Hey, angel, don't let that spoil your fun." He put his arm around me. "I'll talk to Mom about it later. Maybe she'll have an idea. Although, technically, we're not paying for this good time. But let me point out that in Manhattan, the more expensive the catering, the less food is offered. You might have noticed that the beautiful people insist on staying pencil-slim. Their philosophy is you can never be too rich or too thin. There's the person to talk to!"
I looked in the direction Kevin pointed. A tall, distinguished-looking man was walking into the room. Caron ran over to him, seeing him about the same time we did. She threw her arms around his neck.
"Daddy, the party is just awesome, humongously divine! Thank you."
"Only the best for my little girl," he responded in a monotone.
"Hey, hey, if it isn't the big man himself," Kevin exclaimed loud enough to be heard by his father. The two of them locked eyes.
"I won't be talked to that way, young man." Mr. Moore tried to take his son's arm but Kevin pulled away.
"Think I was disrespecting you? How do you suggest I talk then?" They confronted each other face-to-face.
Mr. Moore was taller than Kevin and hovered in an intimidating manner over Kevin. "That is correct. I do expect to be treated with respect by my son."
"Your son? I'm surprised you even remember who I am!"
"I remember who you are all right. You're nothing but trouble. Expensive trouble."
"Am I? Good, I'm glad."
Mrs. Moore came hurrying over. I wanted to leave, embarrassed by their outburst, but Kevin had such a tight grip on my hand that I was forced to stand there with everyone staring.
"What's going on here? Why are you two arguing in front of our guests? You’ll ruin Caron’s special day. Please stop." Mrs. Moore was right. People continued to watch the scene unfold. I was mortified.
"Ask your son why he insulted me. You've turned the boy against me, Sheila."
"Don't blame it on her," Kevin accused.
Before Mr. Moore could stop him, Kevin had stalked away. "I'm sorry," he said when I caught up with him at the coatroom. "I know I ruined the evening for you, but I can't stay for the dinner." His hands were actually shaking as he helped me on with my coat. "I hate that man so much I can't be in the same room with him."
Mrs. Moore joined us. “Don’t leave. Please, Kevin, for my sake. I need you here today.” She placed her hand on his.
“I wish you wouldn’t ask,” he said.
“I wouldn’t if it weren’t so important. I need your support.”
Kevin nodded curtly. His mother left us alone as I returned my coat to the lady behind the coat check counter.
“I’m sorry,” he said turning to me.
I wasn’t certain why he was apologizing, but I decided not to make any comment. As we walked back toward the main room, a stranger approached us. He was well-dressed in a black suit that sort of made me think of an undertaker. The man had black eyes and hair much like Kevin and I thought he was probably a member of the family. He stared directly at me, which I found disconcerting.
“I thought you were trying to leave to avoid introducing me to your young lady,” the man said flashing a smile at Kevin. He had a mouthful of dazzling white teeth. For just an instant, I thought his front teeth looked sharp like fangs. Then I blinked and the image disappeared. I must have imagined it. “That would have been very wrong.” He reprimanded Kevin in a stern tone o
f voice. Then he glanced back to me. “You’re Danna Webster, aren’t you?”
I stared at the stranger in surprise. How did he know who I was? I realized Kevin must have told him — but why? Something about the man and the way he was looking at me made me feel uneasy.
“You seem to know who I am, but who are you?”
He smiled again. “I’m known by many names.”
Kevin moved from side to side as if he were uncomfortable. The dark man put his arm around Kevin. “Son, why don’t you go and get a nice plate of those fine-looking hors d’oeuvres for your young lady while we chat for a bit and get acquainted.”
Kevin glanced at me and I thought he appeared worried, but he gave a curt nod and did as the man said. I wanted to follow Kevin; however, the man placed his hand on my arm and I couldn’t seem to move. In fact, it felt as if he and I were enclosed in a separate space apart from everyone else in the room. It was as if we’d become invisible. My heart started to beat hard in my chest.
“Don’t be frightened,” he said, as if he could tell exactly what I was feeling. “I’m not going to hurt you.” His obsidian eyes were intent on mine. “You have nothing to fear from me.”
Somehow I knew that was a lie. “What do you want?”
“It’s more like what I can do for you. I can make you rich. I can make you famous. You can become a great artist. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I can give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of and a lot more.” His eyes, which previously had no light in them, now glowed with unnatural light. It was eerie.
I shook my head and tried to withdraw the hand with which he held my arm, but he wouldn’t let go of me. I figured this guy was a few slices short of a loaf. Intuition told me this was an evil man, someone to avoid.
“I guess Kevin has been telling you what a good artist I am, but he tends to exaggerate. If you’re some kind of agent, you’ll have to talk to my mother about representing my work.”
He smiled looking amused. “Such innocence. Kevin will vouch for me. His father is successful today because of me. Kevin and his sister can have anything and everything they want because of me.” He pulled out a cigar and lit it with a snap of his fingers.
The Devil and Danna Webster Page 11
