Silver Linings, стр. 62
Mattie realized she was trembling. She dropped the screwdriver onto the desk, went around to the back, and sank abruptly into her chair. Her knees felt weak.
In numb silence she watched Hugh lay out a meal that featured noodles and vegetables in a spicy peanut sauce.
“Eat up,” Hugh said as he spread a napkin across her lap and pushed a paper plate full of noodles in front of her. “When we're finished I'll help you hang the rest of Silk's pictures.”
“Thank you.” Mattie stared blindly down at the noodles.
“Think nothing of it. Even us outdated, inconsiderate, insensitive clods have our uses.”
Mattie continued to stare at the noodles.
Hugh started to eat his. He munched in silence for a full minute, and then he arched a single, inquiring brow. “Slam-bam-thank-you-ma'am?”
Mattie blinked and at last picked up her chopsticks. “It's not that bad.”
“Thank you,” Hugh said with great humility. “I do try, you know. And I'm willing to study hard and learn. I'm a fast learner.”
And suddenly Mattie couldn't help herself. She thought of his intense, highly erotic, incredibly sexy brand of lovemaking, and she started to giggle. The giggle mushroomed into laughter, and a moment later she was convulsed with it. Hugh watched in quiet amusement, looking obliquely satisfied.
It was only later that she realized that the laughter had been as effective at reducing her stress level as venting her anger had been earlier.
And it was Hugh who had somehow given her the gift of both kinds of freedom.
The Silk Taggert show was a huge success. Hugh spent most of it leaning negligently against one wall, a glass of champagne in his hand, and wishing his friend could see what was happening. Silk would have gotten a kick out of all these sophisticated, trendy people going crazy over his work. Hugh made a note to try to remember as many of the comments he had overheard this evening as possible.
“…It leaves me with the strangest sense of longing…I can't wait to get that lagoon scene on my wall…Such spectacular colors, real colors…What a change from all the gray and brown and black you see so much of in Seattle galleries these days…So bold and vibrant…A nice change. I get so tired of subtlety…That jungle feels alive…Dangerous but beautiful…Captures the power of nature…”
Mattie was everywhere, looking very businesslike in a proper little suit, her hair neatly coiled at the nape of her neck. She was mingling with the crowd, chatting with potential buyers, and turning a blind eye to the serious inroads a few apparently starving artists were making at the buffet table. She had told Hugh earlier she considered the free food eaten by artistic moochers at these events as a contribution to the arts.
“This stuff isn't bad,” a young woman with chartreuse hair and a lot of metal hanging from her clothing announced to Hugh.
He looked at her. “You mean the art?”
“Nah. The food. The art's good, but the food is really terrific, isn't it? Mattie always puts on a first-class feast. She's not stingy like some of the gallery owners.” The young woman squinted up at Hugh. “Who are you? The artist?”
“No. A friend of his. He couldn't be here.”
“Too bad. It must be nice to watch people going nuts over your work. I'd give anything to have them go apeshit like this over my stuff.”
“What sort of stuff do you do?”
“Metal sculpture. The name's Shock Value. Shock Value Frederickson. But I'm thinking of changing it. It doesn't go with my new direction, you know?”
“Yeah?”
“My work is getting more refined,” Shock Value explained patiently. “Things are just flowing for me now, thanks to Mattie, and the flow is changing everything.”
“Mattie? How the hell is she involved?”
“She's sort of like one of those old-fashioned patrons, you know? She's keeping me in groceries while I work on my latest project. One of these days I'll pay her back.”
“Uh-huh. How much has she loaned you?”
“I don't remember exactly,” Shock Value said carelessly. “Wow, there's a friend of mine. Haven't seen him since he broke his ankle doing some performance art in the park last month. Nice talking to you, whatever your name is. See you around.”
A long time later Hugh watched Mattie carefully lock the door of Sharpe Reaction. She looked quietly elated.
“Went well, huh?” Hugh took her arm to walk down the sidewalk to her apartment.
“Very well. I sold everything I had. I hope Silk will be pleased.”
“Yeah. He'll be as excited as a little kid at Christmas. He's never had any real success before. Not in anything. I can't wait to tell him.” Hugh was silent for a while, thinking. “You're really good at that kind of thing, aren't you?”
“What kind of thing?”
“Handling that crowd of potential buyers tonight. Showing Silk's work. Running your gallery. The whole bit.”
“It's what I do for a living,” she said quietly.
“Yeah.”
“What's wrong, Hugh?”
“Nothing.”
“Are you sure?”
“Watching you this evening just made me think about some things, that's all,” he muttered, wishing he'd never opened his mouth.
“Like what?”
“Never mind.” But the truth was, he was definitely beginning to worry. Mattie was very much at home in this world. She was successful in it. She had friends here. She was a part of the art community.
Tonight he had seen just how well she moved in this environment, and the realization haunted him. Until now he had been telling himself that she would adapt easily enough to St. Gabe when the time came, but now he was beginning to wonder if the time would ever come.
He had been so blithely certain that once he had convinced Mattie she was not just a stand-in for Ariel that she would give up everything to move to St. Gabriel.
Now he was beginning to wonder if that would be the case. Viewed objectively, what did he really have to offer her compared to the life she had created for herself here in Seattle?
Only himself.
Silk was right. These