by Meany, John
Right away Claire rushed into the kitchen and reached for the phone, to make her daughter aware of the situation.
As expected, Ashley was displeased that she had left the sentimental portrait behind.
What is more, based on the cadence of her voice, it was obvious that she did not want Stephen to know about her blunder. In a nervous whisper, Ashley had asked her mother if she would drive to the airport to drop the painting off.
Naturally, Claire said she would. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for her daughter. That’s how much she wanted to see Ashley succeed.
“Okay,” Troy said, while feeding Kimberly the bottle of warm milk. “If we’re gonna head to the airport, I guess we’d better leave now before the storm gets worse.”
“We have to leave now anyway,” Claire told him, hanging up the phone. “I’m not a city driver so it’s going to take us double the time to get to the airport than it would for a normal commuter.”
“Hey, I’d offer to drive,” Troy said, grabbing, from the counter, his gloves and wool cap. “Except I’m not a city driver either.”
Chapter 75
As anticipated traffic headed into the city of Newark was, slow moving, and just about every motorist driving along the slushy Garden State Parkway had his or her headlights on.
“This weather is a pain in the ass!” Stephen griped, as the limo passed a noisy Greyhound bus. It smelled heavily of diesel. “I hope the weather in England is more promising than this.”
“It couldn’t be much worse,” Ashley, joked, watching the limo’s small color TV. It was next to the mini-bar.
“No,” said Stephen. “Good point. It couldn’t be much worse. I had this problem a year ago trying to fly out of Denver. Don’t get me wrong, I like snow if I‘m going skiing. But I don’t like it when I have to travel.”
“I don’t like this weather either. I said that before.”
“And,” he elaborated, sliding his suitcase on the floor a little to the left to give his feet more room. “The way this storm keeps getting worse, we’ll be lucky if our plane even leaves the runway.”
Ashley frowned. “Stephen, must you be so negative?”
“Well, it’s true.”
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe the flight will be delayed or cancelled. But you bitching and moaning isn’t going to change the outcome. Why don‘t you just sit back and relax?”
The chauffer could not see what was taking place back here. He could not hear anything either. The tinted partition was shut.
Now, while Stephen indulged in a snort of brandy, it didn’t take long before he would return to the issue of Troy. As soon as they had pulled out of Ashley’s driveway, that’s when the complaining had started.
“Don’t you see what this guy Troy is doing?” he asked.
Ashley shrugged. “Not really, Stephen. Tell me, what is he doing?”
“He’s using your mother to get back with you.”
“So?”
“What do you mean so? You don‘t need a guy like that trying to win you back.”
“Will you stop?”
“No. I will not stop. This guy Troy is a nobody, Ashley. He’s just some bum who works at the corner market. Why would you possibly want to maintain a friendship with somebody like that? C’mon, use your head. He can’t help your career.”
Ashley found the statement to be highly offensive.
“Excuse me, Stephen, where do you get off putting Troy down for what he does for a living? Don’t you remember, before you hit it big, you once worked in a shoe store?”
Stephen shook his head and looked at Ashley as if to imply that she was crazy to bring that up.
“Yeah. But there’s a big difference, I always knew I had a future. Back then, I was just paying my dues. I wasn’t like you. It took time for my talent to blossom. In those days I had to work at whatever job I could find to keep a roof over my head and to put food in my gut.”
Having heard enough, Ashley amusingly clamped her gloved hand over her mentor’s mouth.
“Mr. Sorbello, you should stop talking now,” she urged, trying to make him laugh. “Before you continue saying things you might regret.”
“How old is this guy Troy Young?”
“He’s in his mid thirties.”
“So he’s almost as old as me, about six or seven years my junior.”
“What’s the point?”
“There is no point. I was just wondering. Anyway Ashley, maybe you can’t seem to let this guy go because he saved your life.”
No. For Ashley that was only part of the attraction she felt for Troy. Mainly she liked him for the person he was. It was that simple. Either you clicked romantically with someone or you didn’t. She and Troy had chemistry, and Ashley could care less about what he did for a living.
“I guess what I’m getting at,” Stephen added, “is when we’re in London I don’t want you to be distracted thinking about this man. If you ask me, it seems kind of silly of him to be paling around with your sixty-year old mother, and helping out with your baby daughter.”
“Troy loves Kimberly.”
Stephen sighed. “I’m sure he does. C’mon, I’m begging you, Ashley please-”
“What?” She stared deep into his eyes.
“Focus on your art show, not on this guy.”
“I will.”
“You had better. I’m warning you right now, you don’t want to blow this opportunity.”
“I won’t.”
***
The snow had begun to come down harder.
What is more, it had become so dark out it seemed more like evening than nearing twelve-thirty in the afternoon.
“Do you think we’ll make it there on time?” Troy asked, as he and Claire in her minivan gradually made their way to the airport.
The traffic was horrendous and the visibility may have been a quarter of mile, if that! The high-pitched windshield wipers were also having difficulty keeping Claire’s line of vision clear.
“I hope. This portrait of you and Kimberly is probably the most compelling painting in Ashley’s latest collection. I can’t believe she forgot to bring it.”
Troy fiddled with the radio dial, trying to get an updated forecast. So far, he kept tuning in static.
“Ah. I just think your daughter has a lot on her mind. And that conceited brat Stephen doesn’t make it any easier on Ashley the way he’s always pushing her.”
“Are we getting testy Troy?”
“Hey, I apologize Miss Whittaker. Except I can’t hide my feelings. Look at the way that guy snubbed me. What a jerk. I don’t like him.”
Partially hypnotized by the plummeting snow and the squeaky windshield wipers, Claire uttered, “Obviously, I can see that.”
“And from what you’ve been telling me, it sounds like he tries to control everything Ashley does. I’m sick of that guy! If your daughter does make a name for herself, I hope she tells that egotistical control freak to go back to wherever the hell it is he came from.”
“Whoa! You really are upset.”
“How could I not be? Who does this Stephen Sorbello think he is?” The only radio station Troy could get in clearly was still playing music. Presently a song by Whitney Houston.
“Troy, please, try to be patient. I know it isn’t easy for you watching Ashley jet across the Atlantic with her mentor. But remember, this man is helping my daughter. Let’s not lose sight of that.”
Still quietly grumbling, Troy glanced out the window on the passenger side. The pine trees that lined the highway were not only covered with snow, also icicles.
“So what do you think of the portrait she did of you and Kimberly?”
“Oh yeah. I forgot about that. Let me take another look at it.”
“Remove it gently.”
“I will. I promise I won’t scuff it.” Troy reached into the backseat and then carefully withdrew the delicate painting from its protective leather
case.
“Well?”
“I love it. It’s very impressive, as is everything your daughter paints. Her work always leaves me speechless!”
“Me too,” said Claire. “Ashley is a mastermind. There’s no doubt about that. And you can definitely tell in that particular painting she was attempting to depict you as the baby’s biological father.”
Chapter 76
The airport in Newark was mobbed.
In addition, just as Stephen had feared, the snowstorm had caused several delays.
Including Ashley and Stephen’s flight into London, which was now scheduled to depart an hour late. Plows were doing their best to keep the runways safe and passable.
Obviously, this did not make for a pleasant frame of mind. The unventilated lounge where Ashley and Stephen sat waiting, flipping through magazines, felt like a stadium during a rain delay.
“You should break out your sketch pad,” Stephen told Ashley, after tossing the crinkled Time magazine he had been looking at aside. He elected to browse through a copy of USA Today instead. “Since right now we have nothing better to do, maybe you can come up with some new ideas . . . You went through your phase of painting violence against women, then you had your famous building phase. Now you’ve conquered seashore themes. I‘m curious to see where you‘re headed next.”
Ashley, who had her red, down jacket folded on her lap, fidgeted in her seat. “Are you kidding? You want me to start sketching?”
“Yes. There’s no sense for you to be sitting there wasting your time reading those silly lady’s periodicals.”
“Silly?”
“Yes! Silly.”
“What is so silly about Glamour Magazine?”
“You know what I mean. There’s nothing in there except superficial nonsense on how to look beautiful. You certainly don‘t need help with that.”
While flipping to another page, Ashley rolled her eyes in frustration. Why did Stephen have to nag her constantly? What a bully he could be. Did he expect her to bring her sketchpad to bed with her as well?
“Anyway, like I was saying before,” he ventured back to his previous topic, once he realized that Ashley wasn‘t going to do what he suggested. “At your exhibition we’re mainly trying to impress the multi-millionaire art collector, Jonathon Royal.”
“I understand that, Stephen. Jesus! You don’t have to keep repeating yourself. I‘m not hard of hearing.”
Aside from being a frequent patron of many European and American art exhibits, Jonathon Royal, who was from Great Britain, also had a reputation for being an extremely high bidder.
“Okay. Don‘t get all up in arms.”
“I‘m not all up in arms. I just don‘t want to keep listening to you telling me the same thing over and over again.”
In an attempt to reduce her agitation, Stephen put his hand on Ashley’s shoulder.
“Look, all I’m trying to say is I wouldn’t be surprised if this eccentric Englishman bid upwards of five-thousand dollars for one of your paintings. But first you‘ll need to impress him with your charm. Believe me, this guy throws money away the way a normal person disposes of trash.”
Jonathon Royal grew up in London, but currently owned a mansion in Wales. He also had a yacht and his own private jet.
***
Fortunately, as it turned out, Claire and Troy made it into Newark before Ashley’s plane had departed. If the flight hadn’t been delayed, they would have been late.
“What time is it?”
“One-thirty.”
“Do you see them?” Troy asked, scanning the stuffy lounge. There were hundreds of passengers, in jackets and sweaters, massed together. Most had frowns on their faces.
“No,” said Claire, carrying the baby. “But they must be around here somewhere.”
“Maybe we should have her paged.”
They had tried to call Ashley’s cell, but could not get through. The storm had fizzled reception.
“If we don’t find her soon, we might have to page her.”
They did not have to resort to that.
Eventually Troy spotted her.
Ashley had just put down whatever it was she had been reading. When she saw Troy, she jumped up from her seat.
“There they are,” he said, pointing.
“Where?” asked Claire.
“Over there, near the gate.”
***
Surprised, Stephen Sorbello had abruptly glanced up from his newspaper and had watched his protégé’s mother, and former boyfriend hurry through the crowded lounge, headed toward where he and Ashley sat waiting. With them, they had the baby. And what appeared to be another piece of art.
“What are they doing here?” Stephen asked, staring at Ashley with heated eyes.
“I forgot one of my paintings,” she explained. “A portrait. They drove up here to drop it off.”
“A portrait?”
“Yes. Remember when my cell phone rang while we were in the limo?”
He nodded.
“That was my mom.”
“But I thought we had all of the paintings.”
“Well, the one they brought, originally, I wasn’t planning to put up for auction. I’ve changed my mind.”
Discouraged, Stephen turned his attention from his protégé, to her former boyfriend. Aside from boots, a green winter coat, Troy also wore a cap.
“Hey,” he said to Ashley, grinning. “Do you think this is too big to bring on the plane?” He placed the portrait on the floor of the lobby in front of her.
“No. It should fit in the overhead compartment.”
“We‘ll just have to be careful,” Stephen interrupted, “and not cram it in there. We don’t want to risk damaging the art.” Now he almost went into a rage as Ashley and Troy stared at one another longingly.
“My God,” Ashley said passionately, suddenly leaping into Troy’s arms. “I feel like I’ve been away from you for so long.”
“I feel the same way,” Troy declared, kissing her tenderly on the lips. “Are you sure you‘ll be safe in England?”
“Don’t worry,” she promised. “I’ll be fine. Really, I will. Also, London isn’t that far away. If you start to miss me too much, you could always call. Or if I start to miss you too much, I’ll call you.”
“All right. But you’d better be safe, Ashley. Because if anything ever happened to you, I don’t know what I would do.”
“I love you,” she said, squeezing Troy tightly. “I don’t want to deny that any longer.” She started to cry.
“I love you too,” he also admitted, kissing her again. “I love everything about you, Ashley. Especially your gorgeous smile. You can light up a room with that gorgeous smile.”
“Oh Troy, I missed the way you hold me. I belong here in your arms.”
Look at them, Stephen thought, amazed by the powerful affection Ashley and Troy clearly felt for one another. They’re like two love-struck teenagers who can’t bear to be apart.
“So Stephen,” Ashley said, “how much money do you think we can get for this painting?”
Humbled, he examined the portrait. What Stephen saw left him mesmerized.
If he hadn’t been convinced before that Ashley was born a creative genius, he certainly was now. Of all of the paintings that would grace the walls at her London art show, Stephen decided that this piece would likely receive the highest bid.
The portrait’s theme was a fascinating mixture of love, pain, and indecision. In it Ashley seemed to be conveying that, throughout our lives, one must often battle great suffering in order to appreciate what we have. The painting’s message was simple, yet universal.
“For this,” he replied. “I’m not sure. However, if Mr. Royal is in good spirits, you never know, the profit from this piece might buy you what‘s behind curtain number three.” He laughed; pretending he was Bob Barker from the Price is Right. “A new stove. Refrigerator. Or camper-”
&nbs
p; “I take it then that you like it?”
“I do, Ashley. This portrait exudes so much depth and feeling. It could be your finest work.” He paused to capture his breath.
“Thank you. That‘s sweet of you to say.”
“And now I realize where your heart does in fact lay.” Pushing his ego aside, Stephen smiled, and then looked at Troy. “It’s with this handsome gentleman here.”
Once again, Ashley and Troy kissed.
“You two are definitely in love and I don’t want to stand in the way of it . . . You were right, Ashley. This man is your inspiration.”
Thrilled, Ashley beamed. “Gosh, Troy, I wish you could come to London with us.”
“Hey,” he told her. “I always could. That is if it‘s okay with Stephen. The store does owe me six weeks vacation. And they usually prefer that I take part of it during this time of the year when business is slow. All I’d have to do is get Adam to fill in for me and we‘d be good to go!”
There was a long suspenseful intermission, as everyone, including Claire stared at Stephen to judge his reaction.
Finally, he threw his arms up into the air and uttered, “Well, I guess I don’t mind, and they probably do still have more tickets available. However, if you really do want to come to Europe with us, you’ll still need a passport.”
“Actually,” Troy patted his coat pocket, “I happen to have my passport with me.”
“What about money, you’ll need clothing? You can‘t attend Ashley’s exhibition wearing that.”
“No problem. I have that covered as well.” Troy showed everyone his wallet. “I brought my American Express card. When the plane lands, I’ll buy a suit, tuxedo, whatever you think I might need.”
“So you definitely don’t mind?” Ashley asked Stephen again, to reconfirm.
“No,” he said, still admiring the portrait. “Now I consider allowing your boyfriend to tag along an investment. Besides, if I don’t let this gentleman come to Europe with us, I’ll probably never hear the end of it.”
