A Palette for Love

by Charlotte Greene

  “The ad said I would be your assistant but contained no further details.”

  “Yes, my assistant. Let me explain. In that role, you will not act as my secretary. I don’t know if you noticed, but I already have one. She takes care of my appointments, travel arrangements, and most of my paperwork, as well as billing and payroll for the other employees. The position I’m offering you is more personal. It involves a lot of things, Doctor, and again, I feel strange offering it to you, knowing your credentials. For example, I might one day ask you to do my errands around town. You took a cab here, so I’ll arrange a company car for your use. Would you be willing to do such menial work?”

  I nodded, my hopes rising.

  “Another day, I might ask for your advice regarding an artist I might purchase from, so you would help choose the work we buy for my clients. Occasionally you might visit the homes of my clients in order to ascertain tastes, color schemes, etcetera. You should be very good at this task, even if you don’t know it yet. How does that sound?”

  “Very interesting.” It did appeal to me. I’d never had enough money to buy artwork, and the idea of acquiring it in the quantities she tended to purchase excited me.

  “On other occasions, you would accompany me to various functions both here in New Orleans and elsewhere, which could mean extensive travel. Are you willing to travel at least once a month with me, perhaps, at times, more often?”

  “Of course,” I said, though a little reluctantly. I enjoyed travel but had always been a wallflower at most parties.

  “At said functions, you would act as my reference base for any possible clientele we might be able to acquire. This would mean researching attendees before these functions and coming up with ways to get them to buy art through us. Again, I think you will be very good at this skill with some practice.”

  I kept my face interested and calm, trying to cover my mounting excitement. It sounded more and more like she might hire me.

  She paused, as if weighing her words. “Finally, as my assistant, you must dress and act in a very particular way in public. We will represent one of the most influential modern-art dealerships in the world, and I’m not saying that to impress you.” She looked at me critically again, frowning slightly. “Do you usually wear clothes like this?”

  I looked down at myself and frowned. In truth, I’d borrowed the outfit from my aunt. My own wardrobe was definitely casual. While I’d interned at several museums, I’d worked strictly behind the scenes, so I wore street clothes. I’d never purchased business wear in my life. “Not exactly.”

  “That’s good, because they’re terrible.” Miss Winters chuckled. “Those clothes are designed for a much older woman and probably don’t flatter her, either.”

  I laughed. “They’re my aunt’s.”

  “Thank goodness. That explains them. Well, that will be our first order of business, then—getting you new clothes.”

  “Our business? You mean you’re going to help me shop?”

  “Obviously you wouldn’t even know where to begin.” Seeing my expression, she laughed. “Please don’t be angry. As I said, as my assistant you will be expected to look and dress a certain way at all times, and since it’s my requirement, I want to help you. When you’re here at the office, I expect business wear, and when we’re at parties, I want you to look as if you belong there.” She paused, her expression softening again. “You don’t look very happy about this requirement, Doctor.”

  I made myself shrug, trying to look casual about it. Just think of the clothes as a uniform, I thought. “I’m sorry. I’m just surprised. I didn’t know I’d get a new wardrobe, too.”

  She laughed again. “And a makeover.” She paused. “So…are you interested in the position? Does the salary fit your requirements?”

  In fact, the salary was one of the only reasons I’d even considered applying, as it was more money than I’d ever earned. “Yes, I’m more than interested. I’d be very pleased to work with you.”

  “We can negotiate commissions when you begin to sell on your own, but until then, I’ll provide bonuses when I think you’ve earned one.” She stood up and held out her hand. “Welcome aboard.”

  I jumped up and shook with her, the guilty weight of joblessness finally slipping off my shoulders. As I gathered my belongings and made my exit, I glanced back once more to find her watching me again. Her stare was as unflinching and unreadable as ever. While I was relieved at the idea of money coming my way again, I found her presence unsettling in some fundamental but confusing way. It would take a long time before I could feel anything but embarrassed around her.

  Chapter Two

  My Aunt Kate was gardening in our front flowerbox when I got home, and she looked surprised as she watched me climb out of the Rolls Royce owned by the Winters Corporation. The driver looked concerned as he got out of the car, obviously used to opening the door for his passengers. I waved at him and said, “Thanks for the lift, George. I’ve got it from here.”

  “You’re welcome, mademoiselle.” He gave me a quick salute and lowered himself back into the car, and I watched with my aunt as he drove away down our narrow, pitted street.

  “What on earth was that?” Aunt Kate asked as the car disappeared around the corner.

  “I got the job,” I said. I put my clasped hands above my head in a gesture of victory, shaking them a few times as if I’d just won a race.

  She shrieked and launched herself into my arms, and we jumped up and down a few times, laughing together. Her large sun hat fell off onto the ground, and she bent down to pick it up. I noticed then that her hands were covered in dark mud and wasn’t surprised to see that she’d gotten it all over the outfit she loaned me. We both laughed at the mud on the sleeves and back of the jacket.

  “So wonderful, honey,” she said, smiling broadly as she tried to brush some of the mud off with her dirty gloves. “When do you start?”

  “On Monday, technically, but I have to do some shopping with my boss this weekend.”

  “Shopping?”

  “It’s complicated.” I shook my head. “Anyway, I’m starving. Want to walk over and get a bite at Tony’s?” Tony’s was the neighborhood dive bar. “We might catch Meghan there.”

  “Tony’s? Are you kidding me? This calls for a celebration!” Aunt Kate was always one for celebrating something, which to her meant getting dressed up and going out on the town.

  I shook my head. “I just want to do something low-key. We can celebrate in style some other time. Maybe after I get my first paycheck.”

  She looked disappointed and sighed in resignation. “Fine. Tony’s it is. You should get out of those dirty clothes, though.”

  My friend Meghan was in fact working when we finally reached Tony’s, and she squealed when she saw me. I’d been back in town for a few days now, but we hadn’t planned to go out for the first time together until later tonight. She lifted the barrier between the dining room and the bar and ran over to me, enveloping me in a big hug.

  Meghan, my oldest friend, had always been a rebel. We’d been friends since eighth grade, and even then, she was different from the other kids. She’d shown up for school the first day in solid black, her hair dyed purple, half her head shaved, and a ring in her nose. Her difference had probably drawn me to her, as I always felt like something of an outsider too. While I was never as funky as she was, the weirdos at school had still accepted me, mostly because of my friendship with Meghan. Now she was the manager of Tony’s bar and sang with a bluegrass band a couple nights a week.

  “What are you doing here?” she shrieked, holding me at arm’s length and looking me up and down. “And why do you look so thin? I thought Paris had the best food in the world.”

  I laughed. “I barely lost any weight, Meghan,” I said, “and Aunt Kate and I wanted to get a drink to celebrate my new job.”

  Meghan clapped her hands and hugged me again. “That’s great news! I’ll make you both my newest cocktail creation.” Turning to my
aunt, she hugged her, hard. “I hardly ever see you anymore, Aunt Kate. Is Tony’s not good enough for you anymore?”

  Aunt Kate shook her head. “I’m sorry, dear. I do mean to get over here more often, but I’ve been…a little distracted.”

  Meghan raised an eyebrow at me and I laughed. “Aunt Kate has a new beau.”

  “Ahhh, that explains it. You’ve been too busy honeymooning.”

  Aunt Kate reddened and then slapped Meghan’s arm playfully. “Oh, hush. I don’t want to talk about that with you girls.”

  Meghan, Aunt Kate, and I linked arms, and the three of us made our way over to the bar. Though considered something of a dive, Tony’s was actually a lovely place, with a long, wooden bar and wooden walls and booths. With a little more money invested in it, it could easily become an elegant hangout, but most of the locals preferred to keep it as it’d always been: homey and cheap. Like most of the bars in New Orleans, you could smoke inside, and a faint odor of cherry hung in the air from someone’s recent cigar.

  It was three thirty in the afternoon, which meant we had the place to ourselves. Aunt Kate and I sat in our favorite seats on the corner and watched Meghan mix our cocktails. Though she’d outgrown her solid-black clothes, Meghan still displayed some of her punk beginnings. Her hair was her natural dirty blond now, but it was styled similarly to the way it had been in her younger days, with bits and pieces longer and shorter, her head shaved on one side. Over the years, she’d gotten more and more tattoos, and the outline of several magnolia flowers traced up and down both of her arms. She was delicate and cute, and never stayed single for long. Her tastes in men were as eclectic as her style, and when we were younger she used to go through boyfriends almost monthly. Because I’d been finishing my degree last spring and my last internship over the summer, I hadn’t seen her in almost a year, and I was relieved she was looking so happy.

  “Here you go,” Meghan said, delivering our drinks with a flourish and a bow. Aunt Kate and I laughed and took a small sip.

  “It’s wonderful,” Aunt Kate said. She licked her lips.

  “It is. What do you call it?”

  “It’s our new Bywater Hurricane.” She held her hands out as if presenting us with something remarkable.

  Aunt Kate and I groaned together. While Pat O’Brien’s had been serving the world-famous hurricane cocktails in New Orleans since the 1940s, ever since Hurricane Katrina, the drink had been popping up in various new formulas around the city. The Category-Five Hurricane was served downtown in the Quarter, as were the Uptown Hurricane and others. The cocktail personified the macabre sense of humor most of us had adopted since our city’s most recent tragedy.

  “It was only a matter of time before someone started selling it in the Bywater,” Meghan sniffed, feigning hurt feelings. “I decided it should be Tony’s since we’ve been here the longest, and people around here love it.”

  As we drank, we chatted about Paris, and I told them both about my new job and my possible duties.

  “I still can’t believe you want to work for a gallery,” Aunt Kate said, shaking her head. “Especially after all your schooling. You could have gotten a job there with your BFA.”

  I shrugged. “Still, I think it could be interesting, at least for now.” Seeing their disbelief, I laughed. “Listen, my boss is really nice. I get to travel, I get to be around great artwork all day, and I’m being issued a company car for personal use, too. The job will be fine for a while. Anyway, Miss Winters promised she’d help me get a position at Tulane later. She and her family have a lot of sway at the university. She told me it might take a year or two, but she could help make it happen.” They both stared at me, clearly as stunned as I was at the influence this offer suggested.

  “So what is the famous Amelia Winters like?” Meghan asked. “I read about her in the paper every once in a while. Is she the ball-busting bitch everyone claims she is?”

  I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, not sure how to answer. In truth, the woman had completely charmed me, though she also intimidated me. She was beautiful, elegant, and rich, and obviously thought very highly of my qualifications. “She’s not exactly what you’d expect.”

  “What do you mean?” Meghan asked.

  “She was actually very nice. Warm even.” They both looked skeptical and I laughed again. “Anyway, we’re going shopping this weekend, so I guess I’ll know more about her soon.”

  “You mentioned that before.” Aunt Kate frowned. “What kind of shopping?”

  I blushed, not sure how to explain. “Clothes, mostly. She told me I need to look the part of her assistant. Oh, and she’s taking me to get a haircut at some fancy salon in the morning.”

  Aunt Kate shook her head and looked away, obviously miffed, and Meghan stared at me, one eyebrow lifted. “You gotta admit it’s kind of weird, Chloé,” she finally said.

  “How so?” I asked, my face warming with anger.

  Meghan and Aunt Kate shared a glance. “Haven’t you heard the rumors about her?” Meghan asked.

  “What rumors?”

  “That she eats girls like you for breakfast,” Aunt Kate said, looking anywhere but at me.

  “Sounds like she’s grooming you to be the next meal,” Meghan said, her expression serious.

  I stared back and forth at them and then laughed out loud. “You must be kidding. Are you seriously saying you’re afraid she’ll seduce me?”

  Meghan appeared less certain now, and she and Aunt Kate shared an amused look. “I guess it does sound kind of stupid,” Meghan finally admitted.

  Aunt Kate’s face softened and then she laughed. “You’re right, Chloé,” she said after a moment. “I guess you’re smarter than that. You have such a great head on your shoulders.”

  “Aside from the fact that I’m not a lesbian,” I added.

  Meghan and Aunt Kate laughed, and then Meghan asked Aunt Kate about her new boyfriend. As they chatted about him and a recent trip Aunt Kate had taken with him to Key West, I tuned out a little, thinking about Amelia Winters. I tried to reconcile what I’d just learned about her and my meeting with her this afternoon. While it was true she’d disarmed me a couple of times during the interview, and I’d caught her staring at me several times, at no time had I suspected she was hitting on me. She’d simply seemed like a curious employer, hoping to hire the best person for the job. She was beautiful and intimidating, but she wasn’t interested in me in that way, I was sure.

  “So…tonight,” Meghan finally said, pulling me out of my reverie.

  “Yes. Tonight,” I said.

  “I’m picking you up at eight and have a whole evening of debauchery planned.”

  I groaned. “I’m not sure I’m up for that. I’m still not over the jetlag.”

  “I won’t take no for an answer, sourpuss. I haven’t seen you in ages, and I bet you haven’t had a single night of fun that whole time.”

  “Well, your kind of fun, no,” I admitted.

  “Anyway, I want you to meet someone.”

  I groaned again and Aunt Kate and Meghan laughed. “Please don’t set me up with one of your friends again, Meghan. They’re never my type.”

  “You haven’t met this guy, Chloé,” Meghan said, eyes excited. “He’s actually not even one of my friends. He’s my drummer’s brother, and he’d be perfect for you. Good career, tight body, tall, dark, handsome—the whole nine yards.”

  I laughed. “Really, Meghan. I’m not up for a double date.”

  “It won’t be a double date. A bunch of people will be there, so it’ll be totally casual. If you don’t like him, you don’t even need to talk to him. It won’t be awkward at all.”

  I rolled my eyes. This was a losing battle. “What should I wear?” I finally asked.

  *

  The bar was dark and intimate, and I was surprised to find that I was having a good time. Meghan and what I took as her beau-of-the-week were currently wrapped up in each other (literally), and Charles and I shared an awkward glance as we
tried not to watch them make out. Despite what Meghan had promised earlier, the night had turned into a double date, with all of the people Meghan invited as filler cancelling at the last minute. In fact, I’d begun to be afraid that I would be the third wheel all night until Charles finally showed up, apologizing for his lateness.

  He was handsome, with chiseled features, a fit body, gorgeous black hair, and piercing gray eyes. He was just getting off work when he joined us, still dressed in a suit. He hadn’t had time to freshen up, and his face was darkened with a sexy five-o’clock shadow. The four of us shared a nice late supper before walking over to the bar where we were now sitting, waiting for the band to start. We were here to listen to a trombone player Meghan wanted to recruit for her band, that is if she managed to detach her face from her boyfriend long enough to hear him play.

  “So tell me about Paris,” Charles said, gazing directly at me.

  I blushed under his gaze and looked away. I’d forgotten how direct most American men could be and wasn’t used to meeting anyone’s eyes.

  “I spent a lot of time working, really,” I said, not sure what he wanted to hear.

  “I’ve only been there once,” he said. “I did a year abroad in London during high school, and we got to go to various cities during our breaks. I spent about two weeks in Paris when I was seventeen.”

  “Oh?” I asked, sipping my cocktail. My hands were shaking slightly, and I set the drink down on the bar to avoid sloshing it all over myself. It had been a long time since my last date, and my nerves were making me feel clumsy and dumb.

  “We did a lot of the museums, of course, but my favorite part of Paris was the Left Bank. All those bookstores and antiques. I wanted to move there, live in a dirty loft, and write poetry all night while I drank cheap wine.” He laughed. “I was kind of a romantic then.”