“Thanks, Sasha.” He was grateful to her, even though things hadn't worked out for them.
The cab drove away, and as it did, Sasha bumped into Tatianna, who was coming by to borrow a dress Sasha had promised to lend her for a party that week. Sasha saw her glance into the cab and recognize who it was. On the way up in the elevator, she said nothing, but as soon as she walked into the apartment with her mother, Tatianna looked annoyed.
“Who was that?” Tatianna asked with a nasty tone in her voice, that immediately set Sasha's teeth on edge. She made a point not to react or take the bait Tatianna threw out to her. They hadn't discussed him since July, five months before.
“You know who it was,” she said calmly. “His show is tomorrow.”
“Are you back with him?” Tatianna looked at her mother critically, as though she would be a loser in her daughter's eyes if she was, which annoyed Sasha further. Tatianna had done enough damage. She wasn't going to allow her to do more.
“No, I'm not.” But she wished she were. It was too late for that.
“He probably goes out with girls half your age,” Tatianna said meanly, and Sasha snapped.
“That's enough,” her mother said firmly, in a tone that startled Tatianna. “What he does is none of your business or mine.”
“You're still in love with him, aren't you?” Tatianna accused her, and Sasha faced her square on.
“Yes, I am.”
“That's pathetic.”
“The only thing that's pathetic is that you're mean-spirited enough to say what you just did, carry on this vendetta, and try to dignify it in your father's name. This has nothing to do with him, or you, or even me at this point. Liam is a decent man, Tatianna. It didn't work out between us, and I'm sorry as hell about it. But if you want to rub salt in my wounds, you can leave right now. My life is hard enough, and lonely enough, and miserable enough as it is, without having you make it any worse.” There were tears in Sasha's eyes as Tatianna looked at her, stunned by the power of her mother's reaction. Xavier had told her their mother was in love with him, but Tatianna hadn't wanted to believe him. She thought it was just sex. Now she saw it was much more than that and she hadn't expected Sasha to let her have it with both barrels.
“I'm sorry, Mother,” she said quietly. “I didn't realize you cared about him that much.” She suddenly understood what she had done and what it had cost her mother. She felt guilty for the first time.
“I do care that much, not that it does me any good at this point,” Sasha said honestly, and wiped her eyes as she took off her coat. For the first time since that fateful night in the Hamptons, Tatianna felt truly sorry for her. She never thought about how lonely her mother was.
All she thought about was how much she missed her father, not how alone or unhappy her mother was.
“I just wanted you to be with someone more like Dad,” Tatianna said softly, feeling bad about her comments now, and then she admitted the truth for the first time as tears flooded her eyes. “That's not true.” She corrected herself, “I didn't want you to be with anyone, only Dad.”
“I know,” Sasha said through her own tears as she pulled Tatianna into her arms. “I miss him too, sweetheart, I thought it would kill me when he died. And I didn't expect to fall in love with Liam. It just happened. I didn't want it to, but it did.” She closed her eyes then as they held each other. “It doesn't matter now. It's over.” Tears rolled down her cheeks as she said it.
“Maybe he'll come back,” Tatianna said, sorry for her and sincerely remorseful. It had taken a long, long time.
“No. It's impossible,” Sasha said quietly, as Tatianna cried in her arms. “You didn't do it, Tati. If he had really loved me, he'd still be here. It would have fallen apart anyway. It was impossible right from the beginning. You were right.” Sasha smiled sadly at her. “I'm too old for him. I need a grown-up, whatever that is.”
“Daddy was a grown-up,” Tatianna said, looking as sad as her mother. She felt responsible for what had happened.
“Yes, he was. There aren't many of them around.” She remembered Marcie's speech from the summer, about the losers and jerks that were out there. She believed her. She'd met a few herself in the two years of her widowhood. At least Liam had been sincere and honest and loved her, even if he was immature and childish at times. If nothing else, he was decent and kind. The rest of what she'd seen out there wasn't. She knew there was probably a nice guy out there somewhere, but she no longer had the energy or the heart to find him, or trust him. It was just too hard. She didn't want anyone now. She had two men to mourn—Arthur and Liam.
Tatianna kissed her goodnight shortly after that, and left with the dress she'd borrowed, as Sasha thought about what had happened between them that night. Tatianna had started in on her again about Liam, and this time she had called her on it. It was what Liam had wanted from her in July, and she couldn't do then. It had been the right idea at the wrong time. She owed him that, and had finally done it, but when he wanted it, it had just been too soon. Unfortunately for her and Liam, it was way too late now. But she was glad she had done it anyway. Tatianna needed to hear it. And she had needed to say it. As her last gift to him, and to herself, she had finally settled the score for him. It no longer mattered now, but it had been long overdue, and had done her good to say it, and tell Tatianna how much she loved him. It was her last gift to him.
Chapter 18
The snow stopped in the morning, the streets were swept, and the night was crystal clear and icy cold as Sasha dressed for Liam's opening. As she always did, she wore something dark and simple. A plain black cocktail dress this time, with no frills or ruffles. She wanted the emphasis on the paintings, not on her.
Marcie had told Liam to be there at five-thirty, to speak to an art critic. They wanted to take a photograph of him with his work. Guests who had received the invitation had been invited for six o'clock.
Sasha left Marcie to handle Liam and the art critic, and when she emerged from her office, punctual for the opening, the critic and photographer had just left. Liam was standing nervously in the gallery wearing a black suit and white shirt, a dark red tie, serious black lace-up shoes, his hair pulled back in a ponytail, and Sasha smiled when she saw that he was wearing black socks. He looked impeccably groomed and dressed, and in spite of herself, her heart gave a little leap. Nothing that she felt for him showed on her face. She was the cool professional art dealer, waiting to steer him through his first major show.
“You look wonderful, Liam,” she said politely, as his eyes took in her figure in the plain black silk dress she'd worn.
“So do you.” He returned the compliment. A waiter offered him a glass of champagne, which he took, and then looked sheepishly at her. “Don't worry, I'll behave.”
“I had no doubt that you would.” She smiled at him demurely.
“No hayrides tonight, I hope,” he said, referring to the barbecue where he had gotten blind drunk and misbehaved so outrageously.
“No,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “I thought maybe we'd do sleigh rides after the show.”
He shook his head and groaned at the vague memory of the Fourth of July. “Watch out for the horse.”
She smiled, said nothing, and toasted him. “To the success of your first Suvery show.”
“Thank you, Sasha. To my dealer!” He toasted her as the first guests began to arrive. It was well-organized chaos after that. Hundreds of people wandered through the gallery, to see his work, chatting, talking, laughing, meeting and greeting each other. Introductions, questions, price lists, critics, the curious and collectors mingling to admire his talent. Sasha didn't have a chance to speak to him again all night. She had Marcie standing by to introduce him to people, keep him happy, and make sure he behaved, just in case.
There were no problems, no misadventures, no surprises. The only surprise, and it wasn't to Sasha, was that they sold all but two pieces of his work. He couldn't believe it, he stood staring at Sasha when she told
him the good news, and he nearly cried.
“Very impressive, Liam. That hardly ever happens, except with really, really big names. What this means is that they understand and appreciate your work. You should be very proud of yourself.” And then she added, “I am very proud of you.”
Without saying a word, he hugged her, and then looked embarrassed. He was overwhelmed.
“So, now not only are you a talented artist, but you're going to be a rich one sometime soon. Very soon.” She had already decided to raise his prices after the show. “I think you should have a show in Paris now. The market there isn't as lively, but once you have a hit in New York, it usually goes very well there too. We'll talk about it before you leave.”
He still couldn't believe it, and looked shellshocked on the way to La Goulue. Sasha sent him on ahead with Karen and Marcie, while she rounded up the others. Some of the people she'd invited to dinner were his friends, others were clients she wanted to introduce him to, and who had bought his work that night. She had a table for twenty reserved, with Liam at the head, and herself at the opposite end, at the foot. She had surrounded him with his friends. For Sasha, it was awkward being there with him. But she had to do her job now, and do it well, no matter how she felt about him. Several of the artists he'd asked her to invite were women, she had met most of them before, and then, at least, they had only been friends. She had no idea whom he was involved with now, and didn't want to know. The only people her age at the table were clients. The rest of the dinner guests were considerably younger than Liam. Some things didn't change. There was no reason for them to now. He was back in his own familiar world. He no longer needed to make adjustments for her, or even behave himself. But he was very circumspect that night, either because he wanted to be, or in deference to her. This was an important night, and a huge victory for him.
Sasha had an announcement to make at dinner. One of the clients seated at her end of the table had just decided to buy his two remaining paintings. On the opening night, they had sold out his show. Standing at her end of the table, sharing the news with everyone, she toasted Liam again. And this time, he just sat where he was, and looked at her.
He made a garbled toast to her and the client, and said he didn't know what to say, except thank you to everyone, especially Sasha, Karen, Marcie, and the clients who had bought his work. He looked truly undone, and Sasha was touched.
She smiled at him once or twice from her end of the table, but there was no deeper meaning to the looks she gave him. She was just happy for him that the show had been a success. That had been the purpose of their alliance right from the beginning. The rest had just been an added bonus, and never the motivation for her signing him. They had accomplished exactly what she wanted for him: success.
The dinner went on until after midnight, and as she always did, Sasha stayed until the last guest left. She paid the bill, thanked the restaurant, and walked out with Liam into the icy cold crystal-clear December night. It was so cold that when she breathed, it felt like she had needles in her lungs.
“I don't know how to thank you,” Liam said, looking ecstatic. The wines she'd ordered had been excellent, but it was obvious that he hadn't drunk too much. He had been nothing but exemplary all night in every way. He was on his best behavior, and in an odd way, seemed to have grown up.
“You don't have to thank me,” Sasha said simply, “this is what I'm supposed to do. Introduce emerging artists to the world.” That night Liam had definitely emerged. “Besides, I make half the money. I should be thanking you.”
“Thank you for believing in me, and giving me a chance. Wait till I tell the kids,” he said, smiling, and then looked down at Sasha again. In her flat winter boots, standing next to Liam, she looked exceptionally small. “Can I take you for a drink somewhere?” She started to say no, and then nodded. It was probably her last chance. Nothing was going to happen. They were past all that.
They decided to go to the bar at the Carlyle, and chatted in the cab about the show. Liam wanted to know every detail, and what everyone had said. Sasha told him all she knew, everything people had said to her. He lapped it up.
He ordered a brandy when they got to the Carlyle, and she ordered a cup of tea. She had had enough wine at dinner, and the last thing she wanted was to drink too much with him. She didn't want to lose control with him. After this, it would be easier. But this trip was the first time she'd seen him after their torrid affair. She had to find a new way of seeing and dealing with him. Their strictly professional relationship was still new to her.
They chatted for a while about nothing in particular, and then she surprised him and herself by telling him about her conversation the night before with Tatianna. She hadn't intended to tell him, but somehow, before she could stop herself, she did.
“I don't know why I just told you that,” she said, looking embarrassed. “Maybe I wanted you to know I stood up for you after all. Too late for us, but not too late for you. The stupid thing is that Tatianna backed down as soon as I took a hard line with her.” She looked apologetically at Liam. “I just wasn't ready to do it in July. Maybe I should have. And I know it's what you needed me to do. But at least I did it now.” She wasn't telling him to impress him, she just wanted him to know that she had finally defended his honor, and her own.
“It's all right, Sasha,” he said gently. “I understand. You were in a tough spot. We both were. It's funny how those things happen sometimes. Everything collides at once, the past, the present, the future. New people, old people, ghosts from the past. I get confused sometimes between my family and other people. It just hit a lot of buttons for me. She's just a kid, and she's your kid. I should have understood that. I do now. But it took me a long time. Too long,” he said sadly.
“Thank you for being nice about it,” she said with a smile. “I know it was awful for you. It was hard for me, too, but you're right. She's my kid. And the truth is, as far as you're concerned, she's an adult and didn't act like one. Maybe we all act like children sometimes.”
“I make a point of it,” he said with a rueful grin, and they both laughed. “In fact, I take pride in it. I've made a lifetime career of being immature.”
“What brought that on?” she asked, looking amused. He was funny sometimes. As she looked at him, she realized again how much she had missed him in the last four months, and always would.
“Old age, I think. I'm turning forty-one.” Listening to him, she groaned.
“Please, don't tell me your sob stories. I'm turning fifty in May. Shit, how did I get this old?” And this stupid, she wanted to add. Suddenly she wished she had confronted Tatianna in July, but the timing wasn't right for her, and wasn't in the cards at the time.
“You're not old, Sasha. You're still young and beautiful. I don't know why everyone gets so cranked up about their age. I do too. I keep wanting to pretend I'm a kid, and I'm not. I'm growing up, much as I hate to admit it. I don't know why we think youth is so wonderful. If I remember mine correctly, it sucked. So did my judgment then. Things are better now.”
“I wish I could say the same.” She sat back against the banquette and looked at him. It was odd. They had gone from lovers to art dealer and artist, and maybe now, in the end, they'd wind up friends. She could talk to him better and more easily than she could to anyone she knew. Except maybe Xavier. But he was her son. There were things she could admit to Liam that she would never say to him. “Sometimes I think the older I get, the less I know.”
“You know a lot. You're the smartest person I know, about a lot of things. And the best damn art dealer in the world.”
“We make a good team,” she said, and then caught herself, realizing what she'd said, and suddenly embarrassed. She didn't want him to think she was pursuing him. She wasn't. She was making a concerted effort not to, which wasn't easy. “About art, I mean.”
“We didn't do so badly at other things. Most of the time. We just got out of whack sometimes.” It was a mild understatement, from Sasha's
point of view. Out of the eleven months they'd known each other, they'd been separated twice, for a total of six months, which meant that most of the time, they didn't get along.
“You're being generous,” she said, and then finished her tea. They had sat in the bar at the Carlyle for two hours. It was time to go home. They couldn't drag it out any longer, the bar was closing.
The doorman hailed a cab for them, and he dropped her off at her place. She would have loved to ask him up, but she knew she couldn't. She would only want him more, and there was no point. That part of their experience with each other was over, for good this time, and they both knew it. There was no hiding from that now. Age hadn't done them in, life had, and values and lifestyle, and Tatianna. Destiny. It wasn't meant to be, no matter how attracted they were to each other, and it was obvious they still were.
He looked at her for a moment before she got out. “Thank you for a fantastic opening.” He hesitated, and touched her hand. “I'm leaving for Vermont on Friday.” He didn't know how long she'd be in town. “Can I take you to dinner tomorrow, Sasha? To thank you for tonight, and for old times' sake?” She didn't even know if he had a girlfriend at the moment. She believed he honestly wanted to take her out as a friend.
“I'm not sure that's such a great idea. We always get in trouble when we do that,” she said honestly, and he laughed.
“You can trust me. I'll behave. I promise.”
“The one I don't trust is me.” She was being frank with him, she always was, and had been, right from the first.
“Now there's an appealing thought. “Emerging artist ravished by art dealer, sues for sexual harrassment.' I trust you, and if you make a pass at me, I'll yell rape. Why don't we give it a try?” He took the tension out of his invitation, and she nodded. She loved being with him, and talking to him.
“I'll try to control myself,” she said with an impish grin. He was dying to kiss her goodnight, but didn't. He didn't want to spoil anything between them now, and he could see that she was scared. So was he.
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