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Je
At eleven-thirty, Mr. Hartley came over to her. His anxious fretful look had almost disappeared. “Everything’s all right?”
“Everything’s fine,” she assured him. Anticipating his next question she said, “I reconfirmed the caterer. The Times, The New Yorker, Newsweek, Time and Art News critics are definitely coming. We can expect at least eight at the reception, and allowing for gate-crashers about one hundred. We’ll close to the public at three o’clock. That will give the caterer plenty of time to set up.”
“You’re a good girl, Je
“I’ll try. Tell Lee I’ll be back before one to have lunch with Mr. Krueger. You go out and get yourself something to eat now, Je
She watched him march briskly out the door. For the moment there was a lull in the number of new arrivals. She wanted to study the painting in the window. Without bothering to put on a coat, she slipped outside. To get perspective on the work she backed up a few feet from the glass. Passersby on the street, glancing at her and the picture, obligingly walked around her.
The young woman in the painting was sitting in a swing on a porch, facing the setting sun. The light was oblique, shades of red and purple and mauve. The slender figure was wrapped in a dark green cape. Tiny tendrils of blue-black hair blew around her face, which was already half-shadowed. I see what Mr. Hartley means, Je
Despite the eagerly approaching child, the solidity of the house, the sweeping sense of space, it seemed to Je
Je
She stared again at the painting, admiring the skill with which the artist directed the gaze of the viewer from the figure on the porch to the child to the sunset. “Beautiful,” she murmured, “absolutely beautiful.” Unconsciously she backed up as she spoke, skidded on the slick pavement and felt herself bump into someone. Strong hands gripped her elbows and steadied her.
“Do you always stand outside in this weather without a coat and talk to yourself?” The tone of voice combined a
Je
She watched as his face paled; his eyes widened, his lips tightened. He’s angry, she thought, dismayed. I practically knocked him down. Contritely she held out her hand. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Krueger. Please forgive me. I was so lost in admiring the painting of your mother. It’s… It’s indescribable. Oh, do come in. I’m Je
For a long moment his gaze remained on her face as he studied it feature by feature. Not knowing what to do, she stood silently. Gradually his expression softened.
“Je
The smile brightened his appearance immeasurably. They were practically eye to eye and her boots had three-inch heels so she judged him to be about five nine. His classically handsome face was dominated by deep-set blue eyes. Thick, well-shaped brows kept his forehead from seeming too broad. Bronze-gold hair, sprinkled with touches of silver, curled around his head, reminding her of the image on an old Roman coin. He had the same slender nostrils and sensitive mouth as the woman in the painting. He was wearing a camel’s hair cashmere coat, a silk scarf at his throat. What had she expected? she wondered. The minute she’d heard the word farm, she had had a mental image of the artist coming into the gallery in a denim jacket and muddy boots. The thought made her smile and snapped her back to reality. This was ludicrous. She was standing here shivering. “Mr. Krueger…”
He interrupted her. “Je
He immediately began to study the placement of his paintings, remarking how fortunate it was that the last three had arrived. “Fortunate for the shipper,” he added, smiling.
Je
“It’s the same field, isn’t it?” Je
“There is,” he told her. “I didn’t choose to send it.”
Je
Erich Krueger helped her on with her coat. “Mr. Hartley is going to have to eat alone today,” he said. “I’m very hungry and I intend to go to lunch with you. Unless, of course, you’re meeting someone?”
“No, I’m going to get something fast at the drugstore.”
“We’ll try the Tea Room. I imagine they’ll find room for us.”
She went under protest, knowing Mr. Hartley would be furious, knowing that her hold on her job was becoming increasingly more precarious. She was late much too often. She’d had to stay home two days last week because Tina had croup. But she realized she wasn’t being given a choice.
In the restaurant he brushed aside the fact they had no reservation and succeeded in being placed at the corner table he wanted. Je