Read Online Retribution by Elizabeth Forrest - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Elizabeth Forrest
Tags: Fiction
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days.
"It's a pleasure, as always, to see you, Charlie." Mrs. Laverman wore lavender which accented her aging gracefully. She leaned over and hugged Charlie's slight shoulders. "Any new pieces tonight?"
"No, no, it's just a retrospective. You know I haven't done anything new in almost ten years."
"Well, it doesn't hurt to ask."
Charlie winced and shook her head. "You shouldn't even wonder! Your pictures are more valuable with me not painting."
Mrs. Laverman reached out and parted Charlie's hands. "Perhaps in a way that's true, dear, but we'd rather see you painting and happy again. We don't collect for value, but enjoyment. Anyway, enjoy your young man and dinner. We'll see you later."
The color on Charlie's face increased markedly as the judge and his wife sauntered away, across the lawn, their heads bent together in hushed talk he could not follow.
She cleared her throat as she looked back to him. "Sorry about that."
"Oh, I think she was referring to you and Jagger."
Charlie had begun to eat again, and gave a little snort-choke, and dropped her fork, holding her napkin up to her face. When she lowered it, she was laughing again.
"Thank God," he said. "I thought I was going to have to perform CPR."
"It's the Heimlich for choking."
"I know, but CPR sounded like more fun."
Jagger chose that moment to flap his ears as if he wanted attention, and Charlie took the other half of the boiled egg off John's plate to feed to him. He sat back in his chair, thinking of what an intimate move that was, and how Julie would have never done it for anyone, under any circumstances, let alone for a dog, and he felt contented.
Charlie looked away from Jagger and met his eyes. She smiled. "You have the look of a well-fed man."
"That I do."
She pushed away her salad, and glanced at his chocolate cake. "Got enough room for that?"
He picked up his fork. "Always! There's always room for chocolate!"
Jagger barked sharply. They grinned at one another and dug in, and if Jagger happened to accidentally get several very fat chocolate crumbs from Charlie's plate, Rubidoux pretended he did not notice.
When they finished, Charlie looked at her watch and made a face. "I've got to go announce the winners of the silent auction. If you come, if you have time afterward, I'll show you the judged exhibition. And my gallery, if you'd like to see it."
He knew very little about art except what he liked and didn't, but he knew the evening was not nearly old enough for him to want to say good night to Charlotte Saunders. He nodded. "I'd like that."
John reached for the plates and cleared them all onto his tray, as Charlie got to her feet, grabbing for the dog's harness. For a moment, her face went terribly pale, and she swayed, blinked several times, then righted herself. He went for her elbow.
"Are you all right?"
She waved her hand at him. "Just got up too fast. Champagne went to my head a bit." Her face went cold and stiff again, and he felt the warmth between them drain away rapidly.
"Sorry, I… I thought you needed help."
"No." She straightened her vest and pulled at her blouse cuffs. "It's just a hazard of being in this body."
He took his hand back, and busied himself picking up remnants. An icy barrier had dropped around her, and he was unsure if it was something he'd done, or something she always did.
She and Jagger started downhill as he finished clearing.
When he reached the lower tent, she'd already been pulled in front of a microphone, surrounded by easels of paintings, etchings, and other artwork, and had been introduced to an applauding crowd. She looked through the milling people, spotted him, and gave a slight nod, acknowledging him, and he had some hope that he hadn't ruined everything.
When she spoke to the tented audience, it was with an ease she had not shown with him, something he realized came from years of dealing with the public and from her own quiet confidence in herself in that
"It's a pleasure, as always, to see you, Charlie." Mrs. Laverman wore lavender which accented her aging gracefully. She leaned over and hugged Charlie's slight shoulders. "Any new pieces tonight?"
"No, no, it's just a retrospective. You know I haven't done anything new in almost ten years."
"Well, it doesn't hurt to ask."
Charlie winced and shook her head. "You shouldn't even wonder! Your pictures are more valuable with me not painting."
Mrs. Laverman reached out and parted Charlie's hands. "Perhaps in a way that's true, dear, but we'd rather see you painting and happy again. We don't collect for value, but enjoyment. Anyway, enjoy your young man and dinner. We'll see you later."
The color on Charlie's face increased markedly as the judge and his wife sauntered away, across the lawn, their heads bent together in hushed talk he could not follow.
She cleared her throat as she looked back to him. "Sorry about that."
"Oh, I think she was referring to you and Jagger."
Charlie had begun to eat again, and gave a little snort-choke, and dropped her fork, holding her napkin up to her face. When she lowered it, she was laughing again.
"Thank God," he said. "I thought I was going to have to perform CPR."
"It's the Heimlich for choking."
"I know, but CPR sounded like more fun."
Jagger chose that moment to flap his ears as if he wanted attention, and Charlie took the other half of the boiled egg off John's plate to feed to him. He sat back in his chair, thinking of what an intimate move that was, and how Julie would have never done it for anyone, under any circumstances, let alone for a dog, and he felt contented.
Charlie looked away from Jagger and met his eyes. She smiled. "You have the look of a well-fed man."
"That I do."
She pushed away her salad, and glanced at his chocolate cake. "Got enough room for that?"
He picked up his fork. "Always! There's always room for chocolate!"
Jagger barked sharply. They grinned at one another and dug in, and if Jagger happened to accidentally get several very fat chocolate crumbs from Charlie's plate, Rubidoux pretended he did not notice.
When they finished, Charlie looked at her watch and made a face. "I've got to go announce the winners of the silent auction. If you come, if you have time afterward, I'll show you the judged exhibition. And my gallery, if you'd like to see it."
He knew very little about art except what he liked and didn't, but he knew the evening was not nearly old enough for him to want to say good night to Charlotte Saunders. He nodded. "I'd like that."
John reached for the plates and cleared them all onto his tray, as Charlie got to her feet, grabbing for the dog's harness. For a moment, her face went terribly pale, and she swayed, blinked several times, then righted herself. He went for her elbow.
"Are you all right?"
She waved her hand at him. "Just got up too fast. Champagne went to my head a bit." Her face went cold and stiff again, and he felt the warmth between them drain away rapidly.
"Sorry, I… I thought you needed help."
"No." She straightened her vest and pulled at her blouse cuffs. "It's just a hazard of being in this body."
He took his hand back, and busied himself picking up remnants. An icy barrier had dropped around her, and he was unsure if it was something he'd done, or something she always did.
She and Jagger started downhill as he finished clearing.
When he reached the lower tent, she'd already been pulled in front of a microphone, surrounded by easels of paintings, etchings, and other artwork, and had been introduced to an applauding crowd. She looked through the milling people, spotted him, and gave a slight nod, acknowledging him, and he had some hope that he hadn't ruined everything.
When she spoke to the tented audience, it was with an ease she had not shown with him, something he realized came from years of dealing with the public and from her own quiet confidence in herself in that
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