Marienne turned toward him, and her eyes followed the line of his hand. She sucked in a quick breath when she saw that he was pointing to the sketchbook. She was normally quite confident in her artwork, and he wondered why she appeared nervous.
With wide eyes she whispered, “Sure.”
He carefully moved aside the pages. His hand froze as he saw the sketch that lay beneath them. A charcoal portrait. Of him.
“That’s amazing,” he said, unable to take his eyes off it. “I can’t believe you drew this from memory.”
“I have a good memory.” She smiled.
“I’m speechless. Well, not literally speechless, as I’m babbling, but I don’t know what to say.” He turned to glance at Marienne and saw that she was blushing. “I had no idea I was this good looking,” he added, and she laughed, which was precisely what he wanted. He didn’t want her to be uncomfortable, at all, ever.
“Well,” she said. “There’s some artistic license.”
“Clearly,” he said. “And thank you, I’ve never looked better. Though I do look awfully sad. Is that how you see me?”
“I was going for introspective, not so much sad, but the night I drew that, yes, you did seem sad.”
“What night was that?” he asked.
“The night you came for dinner while I was baking all the Christmas cookies, the night you told me about your mom.”
“Then I’d say you captured that mood perfectly.” He looked back at the drawing, still amazed by how much it looked like him, only somehow better.
“But that’s not how I always see you. Turn the page.”
He laughed as the next drawing was also of him, this time with his head thrown back, eyes twinkling, mouth wide with laughter, right hand raised and woven through his hair. Once again he felt like he was looking at a photograph rather that a drawing. He looked at his own hand then at the sketch. She had captured it flawlessly. The expression, the pose, it was all unmistakably him. How did she do that without me posing for her?
“You’re amazing.” He was in awe, not only of her ability to put his image on paper with such beauty, but to see him with such clarity.
Marienne shrugged. “Good subject matter.”
The fax machine started chugging next to her, and she jumped. She held her hand out to catch the paper. “Finally. Contract signed. Now I can go get ready. Shit.” She glanced at the clock. “We’re late. Give me five minutes, I promise I’ll be fast. I’m packed, I just have to change.” She practically flew out of the room, yelling back to him. “You look great, by the way. You clean up good.” He could hear the smirk in her voice as he listened to her close her bedroom door.
Alone in her studio he took a closer look at the drawings, not just the ones of him, the others as well. He had known that she was talented, he’d seen her portfolio, but her personal drawings blew him away. Looking at them was like seeing the world through Marienne’s eyes and he liked what she saw, immensely.
****
Marienne rushed around her bedroom, stripping off her clothes, and pulling on her ‘good’ underwear and strapless bra. She sat on the edge of the bed and slid on her stockings as quickly as she could without poking a fingernail through them.
“Damn it.” She looked at her hands, thinking she should have remembered to get a manicure. Her nails were long and nicely shaped, but they looked plain and pale. She was sure Justine’s fingernails would be perfect, as always.
She headed into the bathroom and grabbed her makeup bag. Looking into the mirror she saw that she was flushed, enough so that she put her hand to her forehead to make sure she didn’t have a fever. She was not only cool, but also clammy.
“Ewww.” She turned on the faucet and splashed water on her face. She dried off then went to work on her makeup. Makeup was something Marienne enjoyed; it was drawing, on her face instead of paper. She smoothed on foundation then swept a pearly shadow across both eyelids. Within moments she lined both eyes with liner, smudged it into a smoky edge, and began applying mascara. She worked fast, but with precision. She brushed her hair and twisted it up into a loose knot at the base of her neck, securing it in place with rhinestone-covered barrettes.
She spritzed perfume on her wrists and rubbed them together. It was the same perfume she wore every day, but somehow today it smelled stronger. The scent made her flinch. She felt dizzy. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It was the second time she’d gotten lightheaded in the past week. Maybe I’m not eating enough. Thinking back she realized she’d barely been hungry all week either. I must be fighting off some bug.
She tossed her makeup bag into the suitcase and took her dress down off its hanger, smiling as she removed the protective plastic bag. She couldn’t wait to wear it. Three weekends of shopping with Justine had yielded the perfect find. It was a beautiful crimson satin, strapless, with a fitted waist and flared skirt, the entire dress sheathed in the thinnest imaginable veil of black lace. A wide black satin sash accented the waistline.
She turned to look in the mirror and was pleasantly surprised by how well it fit. It curved perfectly over her full breasts, and the sash made her waist look tiny. Glancing at the clock she realized how late it was. She shoved the garment bag and hanger into her suitcase, then grabbed her black satin heels and headed out the door. Daniel was waiting at the base of the stairs, looking dashing in his black suit and pewter grey shirt. As soon as he saw her, he walked up the stairs and reached for her bag.
“Wow. You look amazing,” he said.
She blushed under his gaze, and managed a “thank you,” careful not to slip in her stockings. She slid on her high heels and turned to him, noticing that he was staring. “I didn’t leave any tags on or anything, did I?” She turned in a quick circle, trying to look over her shoulder to check.
“No tags.” He smiled. “You’re perfect.”
Marienne made a face. “Okay.” She took a deep breath, feeling ever so slightly dizzy again. “You ready?” The dizziness grew stronger, so much so that she grabbed the doorknob to steady herself.
Daniel was at her side, instantly. “Are you okay?” Concern filled his eyes. “You went all pale.”
“I’m fine,” she said, breathing through her nose as she tried to clear her head. He looked ready to catch her, and she found his worrying quite sweet. “I haven’t been eating enough lately, that’s all.”
“Well eat something,” he said. “No sense in rushing to this thing if you’re going to pass out when we get there.”
“I’m not hungry.” She started to open the front door, but Daniel stopped her with his hand on hers.
He was standing so close to her she could smell him, the soapy scent of his skin, the faint sweetness of Coke on his breath, she wondered if perhaps she was developing some superhero-like sense of smell. For the briefest moment she thought he was about to kiss her, and she held her breath.
“Go eat something.” He took a step back as he removed his hand from hers. “We’re not going anywhere until you do.”
It wasn’t like Daniel to be so demanding, and the intensity in his voice, and in his eyes, made Marienne agree. He was right, she knew, she did need to eat something. That didn’t stop her from scowling as she walked into the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator and stared inside. Nothing appealed to her. She gave Daniel a pleading look, but he shook his head.
“You will eat something before we go,” he said.
She stuck her tongue out, causing him to chuckle. She closed the refrigerator door, still empty-handed.
He raised his eyebrows, arms folded across his chest.
“How about if I take a bag of pretzels with us and promise to eat them in the car.”
Daniel sighed. “Fine, but I want to hear actual crunching noises, not just the sound of you rummaging around in the bag.”
“Yes sir.” She grabbed the pretzels from the cupboard. “Now let’s go.”
****
“Eat your pretzels.” Daniel reminded her before they’d ev
en hit the turnpike.
“Fine.” She pulled at the sides of the plastic bag until it popped open. “Want one?”
“Will it make you more likely to eat them?”
“Probably.”
He reached into the bag and pulled out two, popping one straight into his mouth.
“Now you.” He glanced at her as he drove, marveling at how beautiful she looked. He saw her reach into the bag and extract a pretzel, then he heard her crunch down and he smiled. He ate his second pretzel and heard her reach into the bag again. Just as he heard the second crunch she exclaimed, “Shit.”
“What happened?” He turned to take a quick look at her as he tried to keep his eyes on the road.
“Stupid pretzel snapped into pieces when I bit into it and the rest went right down my top.”
He laughed, sneaking another look as she tried to discreetly jam her fingers down her cleavage and extract the pretzel remnants from between her breasts. “You should leave them. You know, in case you don’t care for the food at the benefit. A little snack for later.”
Marienne snorted. “Snack for later.”
Daniel grinned, staring straight ahead at the road, unable to keep his mind from the thoughts of pretzels and Marienne’s chest.
He was glad to see that the color had returned to her face. She had gone so pale at the door earlier that he thought she might faint. He’d been ready to grab her if she did, but being so close to her, he’d been nearly overwhelmed. He was still floored by her drawings, their intensity lingering in his thoughts. That, mixed with how beautiful she looked, how good she smelled, how close she was, the feel of her hand beneath his on the doorknob…. He could so easily have kissed her, he wanted to, he truly wanted to, but he stopped himself. Her paleness had brought his concern back to center stage.
****
They arrived at the benefit right on time. Frank and Justine were crossing the lobby toward them. Daniel was carrying both suitcases, and he handed them to a bellboy.
They signed in at the reception table and got their silent auction IDs and their bidding cards, along with a program of events. The ballroom glittered from the combination of mirrors and crystal and the collection of jewels worn by the older patrons. The tables that lined the room were covered with auction items ranging from towering gift baskets, to framed pieces of artwork, to sparkling necklaces in velvet boxes.
Frank was in full schmooze mode, shaking hands with half the people they passed as he stopped to introduce them all to Justine and Daniel, then his wife Marienne, as though she were an afterthought. It was amazing to Marienne how many times he could repeat the same line of introduction with the same amount of enthusiasm. She’d never seen him in quite this form before. It bothered her, the ease with which he faked sincerity.
Justine paused to look at one of the jewelry displays, and Daniel stayed with her. Marienne followed Frank to the bar.
“What do you want?” He turned to ask her.
“Ginger ale.”
“Get champagne or a cocktail. It’ll loosen you up.”
Marienne wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “Ginger ale.”
“Fine,” Frank said, clearly annoyed.
“I don’t feel good.”
“Whatever. Everyone will assume you’re an alcoholic and don’t drink,” Frank said. It was obvious he wasn’t listening anymore. “Scotch on the rocks and a ginger ale,” he said to the bartender as he tossed a few dollars into the tip jar. He handed her the glass, then proceeded to walk over to shake yet another person’s hand, a huge smile plastered on his face.
Marienne felt nauseated as she watched him, and she didn’t join him. Someone came up behind her. She was about to move over to allow the person to get closer to the bar when she heard Daniel’s familiar voice in her ear.
“These hors d’oeuvres are terrible. Have you got any pretzels?” he asked.
She giggled, turning to look into his smiling eyes.
“You’re very bad,” she said.
He grinned. “I’m very bored. How are you feeling?” His eyes flitted back and forth between hers, and she knew she couldn’t lie to him.
“Not great, I must be fighting something off.”
“Let’s go find our table.” He nodded toward Frank and Justine, who stood together as they talked to three grey-haired older gentlemen. “I think they’ll be fine without us.”
Chapter Seventeen
By midway through the meal, Marienne was certain she was coming down with something. Every scent in the room seemed magnified—the alcohol, the perfume, the foods. Each course was making her progressively more nauseated. She hadn’t even been able to look at the smoked salmon appetizer without feeling woozy. The scoop of palate-cleansing lemon sorbet seemed appealing, but one spoonful proved more than enough.
The white-gloved waiter set a rare piece of prime rib down in front of her. All she could see was the bright red blood pooling at the edge of the plate.
“I’m gonna be sick,” she whispered to Frank then made a hurried escape to the ladies’ room.
She pushed past the attendant and barely made it into a stall before the warm rush of pretzels and ginger ale spilled out of her. Her head was spinning. She braced herself against the stall, trying to hold her dress out of the way, very thankful that she’d opted to wear her hair up. She wiped her mouth then gathered her skirt high enough to reach her foot up to flush the toilet.
“Marienne?” she heard Justine call.
Marienne opened the stall door and squeezed past it, her skirt still gathered in her hand.
“You okay?” Justine scrunched up her face. She looked Marienne up and down.
“Not really.” She pushed aside the stray hairs that stuck to her clammy cheek.
“Did you eat something that didn’t agree with you?” Justine asked.
Marienne walked over to the sink. “I don’t think so.” She let the water cascade over her hands. The scent of soap was already bringing on another wave of nausea. She took a slow breath, waiting for the sensation to pass. “I’ve been feeling off the past few days. I must have come down with something.”
“That sucks.” Justine handed her paper towels from the neat pile next to the sink.
“Yeah.” Marienne dried her hands then held the damp towel to her forehead. “I’m sorry I’m ruining everyone’s evening.”
Justine waved her hand. “The fun part is the hors d’oeuvres and the silent auction. All that’s left now is watching a bunch of wealthy old guys try to outbid each other.”
Marienne tried to smile, but all she could manage was a grimace. “I think I need to go to the room.” She put her hand on her stomach. “Would you mind asking Frank to meet me in the lobby? I don’t have a key. I don’t even know our room number.”
“No problem.” Justine headed out of the ladies’ room. “Hope you feel better.” She disappeared through the door.
****
Daniel watched Justine walk back to the table.
“Marienne needs the room key,” she said.
“What for?” Frank asked, taking a drink of scotch.
“Is she okay?” Daniel asked.
“She threw up,” Justine said. “She wants to go to the room.”
“Great.” Frank pushed his chair away from the table. “Where is she?”
“She said she’d wait in the lobby, but if you don’t see her, I’d bet she’s back in the ladies’ room. She was looking pretty green.”
“Okay,” Frank said. “I’ll be back in few.” He stalked off.
“Did you know she was sick?” Justine took another bite of her dinner and pouted. “My food’s cold now.”
“She mentioned being dizzy, but she thought it was from not eating. You think she’s all right?”
Justine shrugged. “Probably a stomach bug. She told me she’s felt off for a few days.”
“I hope Frank stays upstairs with her.”
“Why? What’s he gonna do for her? If it’s a stomach thing, she’ll
be up sick all night. If I were him, I’d stay as far away from her as possible.”
Daniel narrowed his eyes.
“What?” Justine asked. “Like he needs to catch it too?”
He sighed and looked at the doorway. Frank was heading back toward their table.
“She’s going upstairs to lie down. Did I miss anything?” he asked, picking up his drink.
“Nope.” Justine leaned back so the waiter could take away her plate.
Trays of chocolates and petit fours were delivered to the tables, coffee was poured from silver pots, martini glasses filled with chocolate mousse and berries were carried out on large trays and placed before each guest. Frank and Justine whispered to each other about the bidders. Daniel grew restless, gazing at Marienne’s empty seat, wondering how she was doing and getting progressively more annoyed that no one was going up to check on her. He didn’t want to say anything to Frank, feeling it wasn’t his place, but at the same time he couldn’t help thinking someone should do something—make sure she was okay, bring her a ginger ale, something.
“Anyone want anything from the bar?” Frank asked, standing up.
“No, thanks.” Justine raised her half-full sea breeze to her lips. “I’m good.”
“Nothing for me,” Daniel said. “Maybe something for Marienne? To settle her stomach?”
“Nah.” Frank shook his head. “There’s a minibar in the room.”
Typical Frank. Practical, but nothing more. Daniel tapped his thumb on the edge of the table.
“What’s with you?” Justine asked.
“Nothing,” he said. “Just bored. Seems like we should at least check on Marienne, doesn’t it?”
Justine shrugged then glanced at her watch. “The auction’s almost over. I’m sure Frank will go up then.”
“I suppose.”
“Too bad they’re going to have to waste a night in a nice hotel.” Justine ran her foot along the inside of Daniel’s calf. “Let’s make sure we don’t waste ours.”
Frank eyed Justine as they rode the elevator up to their floor. Daniel could tell that Frank was thinking about her more than he was thinking about Marienne.
Meant To Be Page 11
