Loving Grace (8 page)

Grace wet her lips, let her gaze stop just at
the knees of his Levis. “William was six years older, suave,
handsome, and very charming. Nothing seemed to shake him. He had a
way with the ladies. Completely green, I thought it was a serious
relationship with long-term prospects.

“It was my first time living on my own, not
in a dorm. However, I had fixated that my ambition lay in the
direction of politics. Only once I was there, I became overwhelmed.
I began to see that I didn’t have the drive, nor did I like the
constant pressure and the /files/22/73/36/f227336/public/media aspect. Sounds dramatic now,
but when he made his move, I was desperate for a connection, a need
to find myself in the chaos.”

“And did you?”

She shook her head. “No. Not in the end. I
had run headlong into another situation that wasn’t me. A sexual
affair, which I built in my mind into something more. I suppose it
served to release the pressure, but eventually I became blind to
things that in a normal affair, I would have judged
intolerable.”

“What?”

“I overheard some other young women talking,
laughing, and discussing their sexual escapades with William. I
knew we didn’t have regular dates, but I’d put that down to our
schedule. I knew our trysts were erratic, but having no experience,
I didn’t think much of it. Until then.” She met Noel’s eyes and
smiled. “I’m amazed he kept our names straight. It was one of his
talents. He had an amazing knack for names and faces.”

“You weren’t in love with him?”

“No, but I hurt. I cried, I felt like a fool.
I felt stupid compared to the others who’d known the score and
accepted it. I quit, and for months, sifted through every memory
trying to see where I’d allowed myself to get into something so
wrong for me, so against my natural inclinations and what I thought
was maturity.”

“And what was the conclusion?”

“That I wouldn’t have grown without the
mistakes. That knowing a harsh truth, feeling hurt and pain, can
sometimes make you free of unreal expectations. It is okay to
resent people who hurt you, while accepting your own part in
it.”

“That is a mature assessment for a twenty
year old to make.”

She laughed softly. “Ah, well, it doesn’t
mean I found the answers, nor that I suddenly became the most
emotionally healthy person on earth. No one is, I think. We seek to
be, but weakness is a big part of life.”

She held his gaze, thinking before saying,
“That’s part of the reason your art moved me when others haven’t.
The women, the way you paint them. It doesn’t show weakness or
strength, nor does it make them objects or relay some wholly pure
or wholly wicked character. They’re honest elements, showing some
facet, but leaving the individuality intact. We’re human, we’re all
different.”

“And I thought you didn’t come away with
anything but that they were flawless.” He was smiling.

“They are, captured in that moment. Everyone
can be perfect, in moments, in situations, but not in every second
of life.”

He stared at her, absently rubbing his
fingers against his jaw where a shadow of a beard was beginning.
“So now, you begin to understand. That I want to capture that
moment, your moment?”

Grace thought about it. She nodded, gazed
steadily back at him. Yes, she got it now. More so, she was
beginning to think that she was drawn to him because she needed
that moment herself, needed him to draw it out, to bring her to it.
Maybe she had known instinctively, he would. Perfect moments
weren’t the strongest ones. They could be the most vulnerable ones
too. She knew that.

Noel murmured quietly, “Some cultures believe
that taking pictures of them can steal their soul and portraits the
same. I think, Jane, that the contradictions in you, the things you
hide, the snippets you reveal, and who you really might be, make
you one of the most interesting women I’ve ever painted.”

Chapter Nine

At her apartment later, Grace thought of his
comments as she sifted through her messages, and returned a call to
Seth who’d be home in three days.

“I checked a few days ago,” she answered his
question about the apartment. “Are you enjoying your lady friend
and the beach?”

“It’s been mild here. But, yeah, beats DC in
the winter.”

Absently rolling a pen in her fingers Grace
murmured, “Seth, I saw your notes on the Hawthorn case.”

“Gasp! Grace, snooping, another human
trait.”

“Don’t be an ass. I just wonder why you
didn’t tell me.”

“You’re not interested in my cases, too
sleazy, remember?"

“Okay. So, I wasn’t. But he’s a made a splash
here—”

“Everywhere,” he cut in. “He’s on the tube
and in the papers, and on the lips of the highbrow crowd. I went to
a party with Jill the other night and everyone was talking about
him.”

“From your notes, I gather he was
faithful?”

“Yeah. But...”

“But?”

He sighed. She heard a rattle sound and knew
he was clinking the ice in his glass, probably starring at it
thoughtfully. Her brother had some predictable habits. He said
finally, “I’m good at what I do. I didn’t buy the whole act. She
wants him watched. She thinks I’m still keeping tabs on him. I told
her that my, ah, assistant was. Thing is, she likes to know where
he is and what he’s doing. I get the uncomfortable feeling that she
and that Bryce swank are controlling everything. You know what they
say about artists; they want to paint, create, and they’re supposed
to be somewhere between eccentric and egomaniacs, obsessed. Hell. I
dunno, Grace. He leaves the business up to them, but I think she
controls who he talks to, and deals with outside the art
stuff.”

“That’s interesting.”

“Wow, your time off must be broadening your
mind.”

“Cute. I did go to a show and meet him. He’s
a nice guy, a genius at what he does. I didn’t find him full of
himself so much as intense, in a brooding way.”

“Better and better, my sister is coming out
of her cave and seeing the world.”

“I’m going to hang up if you keep doing
that.” She laughed. “Come on, tell me what you sense about this
case.”

“Other than the fact the two keep him behind
a wall? I think they’re lovers, Elise and Bryce. But hey, the art
types might be free about that stuff. The guy could be cool with
it, get off on it, for all I know.”

“And?”

“And I have been thinking about it a lot.
It’s residue, a drawback of doing my line of work. I almost
canceled this vacation.”

“That is serious, when something tempts you
from both women and fun.”

He chuckled. “I got the cast off now. Still
have to wear a brace. But no dancing.”

“The Hawthorn case?”

“Oh, yeah. See, I can understand she wants
tabs on him, so he don’t get suspicious of her fooling with the
partner, providing Noel doesn’t know about the affair. She more or
less said the guy spends most of his time painting. However,
there’s a feeling, something off that just blips on my radar
screen. See?”

“Yes.”

“Grace, I couldn’t manipulate you into being
my eyes and ears, could I? Since you’re obviously not leaving town
and you obviously met the guy.”

She gave herself a few moments to appear as
reluctant as she normally would. Nevertheless, she was relieved to
have some way to be honest, at least partly, with someone about her
activities. “I guess I could. I took along your camera, just
borrowed it thinking I’d take some photos of the holiday
decorations and how they dress up the old city this time of year. I
took a few of that gallery and of Elise and Bryce.”

Okay, so that was half of the truth. She’d
have to explain the rest at some point.

“Damn. I knew that underneath that boring
life, you really would make a good PI. Dad loved puzzles. He used
to be in one of those genius groups, that solved crimes.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah. He never talked about it. Couldn’t
sometimes. But I found out. I think that’s what steered me more
toward my own profession.”

“You could have been a cop.”

“Doesn’t pay well. And I’m my own boss, set
my own hours. I get to pick and choose my cases.”

“Yes. I can see the sense of electing to do
PI work.”

“Is it snowing there?”

“No. Just dreary. I left your Christmas gift
at the apartment.”

“Another vacuum cleaner? A gift certificate
from Maids-R-Us?”

“No. I got you a boxed set of Bogie
movies.”

“Awesome.” He laughed. “See, Grace. This
vacation stuff is good for the soul.”

“Mmm.” She tossed the pen on the table and
scraped her hand through her hair. Leaning her head back she
muttered, “I’ll be twenty-nine in January. Was that an odd age for
you? Did it seem...transitional?”

“Yea. The closer you get to thirty, the more
you wish you’d done in your twenties. I tease a lot, Grace. But you
know I love you. I want you to be happy.”

“I was happy before.”

“I realize that. But you live in a shell
sometimes. You live so orderly, so rigid that it’s hard to let
people in, and I want you to have friends. Hell, have fun and sex
and...”

“I get it. Seth, I love you too. I wasn’t
really disrespecting what you do. It’s just so…dark.”

“Yeah. It can be. But that’s why I live my
life full.”

“Are you serious about Jill?”

“I could be, but she isn’t. So, I hold to the
code.” He laughed. “I think she’ll stay here, and I’ll be flying
back alone.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. It’s not that deep.”

Grace lowered her head, staring broodingly at
the floor. “I’ll see you when you get back.”

“Cool. I sent you a card with some cash.
Sorry, not a shopper. You wouldn’t like what Jill picked out, she’s
not into tweed.”

“You had to get that in.” Grace laughed. “Be
careful. I’ll stock your place with food and drop off all but the
two cameras.” And put the pictures back, she reminded herself.

“See you.” He clicked off.

Grace got things together to take to his
place. She stopped and bought him some food, knowing the man lived
on take out. She took everything back but the one Nikon and the
lapel camera. On the way home, around twelve, she swung by the
gallery. It was closed, yet Elise’s car was in the lot. Grace
parked on the other side of the road and watched the building. No
front lights were on.

She mused, had it been her work in there,
she’d have a camera outside for security reasons. It was likely
Elise was in back. The section was windowless. Thankfully, the car
was still warm. She’d worn the wool coat, her leather gloves and
cap. Grace stared at that pool of light from the back lot,
occasionally looking at her watch and timing the passing hour.

The back door opened. It was both Elise and
Bryce. There was another man...a tall guy, dressed in a heavy
running suit. She took a photo, doubting it would come out because
of the bad lighting. After the couple headed for Elise’s car, the
guy walked across the lot to the chain link fence and through a
gate.

Not knowing who to follow, she chose Elise.
Staying well behind the sports car, Grace muttered at the traffic,
finally registering that they were headed downtown. She hated
driving in DC. It was that hour where couples were leaving theaters
and restaurants. Elise went into an underground lot and Grace
circled the block, figuring it was where Elise lived.

She sighed driving back to the suburbs, then
did a U-turn. For some unexplainable reason, she needed to see
Noel.

Chapter Ten

There was loud music filtering out. Grace
started to turn back, down the stairs. He was painting, working
with another model. However, three steps down and she ran back up,
pushing the buzzer.

He could be one of those men who blew up at
interruptions. God, she was just digging herself in deeper.

The door slid open. Grace stood, enthralled
by the setting. Long flowing drapes of crimson silk concealed the
sets along the wall, creating a fifty-foot wide entry into the
living area. Air whispered down, rippling the silk in waves. There
was calm lighting, enough to enhance the sheen in the material.
Everything looked sooty, black, compared to those long crimson
walls of silk.

Grace stepped in and the door slid closed.
The music was alluring, erotic enough to make her blush, and to
bring a moment of panic. The man was human, his girlfriend wasn’t
here and she might be walking in on something private. Yeah, she
might be getting ready to embarrass the hell of out of them both.
Better that, some crazy part of her brain said, than to catch him
snorting coke or smoking weed, tripping on something, and
shattering the image she had of him. Unfortunately, it was a
reality she had to consider. Even William had gotten high, and he
was a conservative.

Her heart pounded faster. The wool coat was
suddenly heavy, and the brown V-neck sweater stuck to her skin. She
had on a buff suede skirt with knee-high brown boots. Her hair
under the cap itched. Under the clothing, her skin tingled with
awareness. All of her senses were open and she focused on the feel
of her shallow quick breaths to tamp down her imagination. The
music, the mood, the ambiance affected her.

After coming in out of the cold city
landscape, the dull gray of winter, and stark modern world, it was
like stepping into an oasis of sight and sound, comparable to an
Arabian night’s tale. It felt magical in some sensual fashion.
Moreover, it was an aphrodisiac, stimulating Grace’s long-buried
sexuality.

She was near the end. The fold out table was
gone. The sofa and chairs, the plush white rug still remained. On a
low table, wine and fruit. A lamp cast deep ruby brilliance down on
the area. Under the usual scent of paint and linseed oil, Grace
detected a heady, thick aroma of fruit. Tropical. Strong enough to
water her mouth. There was a misting somewhere in the air, wafting
by the fans until it filled the room.