Canvas for Love Read online

  “She means it’s not boring,” Kit said, grinning at Teddy.

  “Hey!” Teddy said in mock outrage.

  Kit looked back at me. “When we redecorated a couple of years ago, Teddy insisted on these paintings.” She turned to Teddy. “Don’t get me wrong, honey—they’re lovely. They’re just a little…well, depressing. Especially when there are so many of them.”

  Teddy rolled her eyes and didn’t engage with what was clearly an ongoing disagreement. She turned back to me.

  “Please,” Teddy said, indicating the portfolio. “Show us what you’ve brought.”

  Although there are exceptions, many local artists in New Orleans are known for using bright, bold colors. Many local artists are also famous for painting New Orleans-specific scenery and subjects, and much of the portfolio was filled with pictures depicting sights from town. Music, on the whole, is a major part of life in New Orleans, and paintings of musicians, instruments, and even some symbolic depictions of music itself abound. Other artists focus on famous landmarks and renditions of local streets, the river, and the famous live oaks, and some produce bold, abstract art.

  Kit and Teddy stayed bent over the portfolio for a long time, flipping back and forth between different pages, making satisfied sounds and chattering between themselves over what they saw.

  “I’m not sure how we would ever choose,” Teddy said, sighing. “I like everything in here.”

  “That’s the beauty of it: you don’t need to choose. Amelia and I plan to showcase everything in the portfolio on a rotating schedule.”

  Teddy and Kit grinned widely, and I smiled in response, pleased that they were pleased.

  “I especially like this one,” Kit said, opening and then tapping one page.

  Teddy looked down and nodded. “That’s my favorite, too.”

  I leaned forward to see the piece, and my stomach dropped. Somehow a photograph of my most recent painting had ended up in the portfolio. I’d asked Janet, the administrative assistant at the office, to make a print portfolio of all of the local artists we had on file at our office and didn’t have any idea this photograph had been included. My expression must have seemed off, as both women suddenly looked confused.

  “Is something wrong?” Teddy asked.

  “Was it already sold?” Kit suggested.

  I shook my head. Not wanting to explain, I continued my spiel. I talked on autopilot about sales and commissions and installation, my mind far away. I knew exactly who’d put the photograph in the file at the office, because I knew exactly who’d taken it: Amelia. She was playing with her new camera the day I finished the painting and insisted on photographing it. I hadn’t thought anything of it, then, but now I knew her ulterior motive. Ever since she’d first seen my artwork, she’d been trying to get me to showcase it somewhere in town and sell it. I never thought she’d go behind my back like this, though. I’d have to talk to her later.

  “So when can we get started?” Teddy asked when I finished.

  “I can schedule the lighting experiment for this week, if you like. Same time?”

  “Perfect,” Teddy said. “Let’s do it Thursday, if that’s okay.”

  “Yes,” I said. “Once we take care of the lights, we can start the installation at any time.” I glanced around the room. “It’s a large space, but we have a lot of employees. After the lights are in, it shouldn’t take more than a single afternoon for them to set up.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” Teddy said, her eyes warm with pleasure. “I never thought it would happen so quickly.”

  “We aim to please,” I said with a smile.

  The three of us shook hands and then stood up.

  “Would you like that glass of wine before you leave?” Teddy asked. “Or a cocktail? It looks like your friend is enjoying herself. We have one of the best bars in town, if I do say so myself.”

  I looked over at the bar and grinned. Even from across the room I could tell that Emma was listing a little on her barstool. I heard her laugh a little too loudly, and the bartender laughed in response.

  “I’d love some wine,” I said.

  “Good,” Teddy said, clearly satisfied. “I always like to seal a deal with a drink.”

  We walked across the room and Emma grinned at me, crookedly, as we approached.

  “Candy here,” Emma said, waving vaguely at the bartender.

  The woman corrected her. “Katy.”

  “Katy here,” Emma said, “has been the perfect hostess. I’ve tried all three of her newest creations.” Her words were slurred slightly, and I had to laugh.

  “It sounds like it,” I said.

  Emma frowned deeply. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing,” I said, laughing again. “Just that you might want to call a cab when we get out of here.”

  “I’m sure as shit not walking home.” She shook her head in disgust. “It’s like hell out there.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” Teddy said, waving at the bartender. “Katy, would you please pour the three of us—”

  “Four,” Emma said.

  Teddy laughed. “Okay, the four of us a glass of the Toulouse Anderson Pinot? The 2006 if we have it.”

  Katy nodded and disappeared into the back for the wine, then returned a few moments later and poured us each a glass. Emma almost sloshed hers completely out of the glass, causing me a stab of deep embarrassment. Teddy and Kit didn’t seem to mind, however, as they both grinned at me. Teddy winked.

  “To the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” she said, holding up her glass.

  “Hear, hear!” Emma said, then drank her entire glass in one long gulp.

  I closed my eyes, too embarrassed to watch Teddy’s reaction. When I opened them again a moment later, however, everyone was smiling, and Emma had her arm around Teddy’s shoulders.

  “I can tell we’re all going to be great friends.” Emma slurred her words.

  I picked up my purse, my notes, and the portfolio. “And with that, I think I should call that cab for my friend here.”

  “That might be for the best,” Teddy said. Her eyes were sparkling with merriment.

  Chapter Two

  Right next to Louis Armstrong International Airport is a smaller airfield for private use. Unlike the regular airport, this airfield has few amenities, as if making up for the luxury of the private jets. The last time I’d been here, I’d barely noticed it, as I’d gotten out of the car and directly onto the Winters Corporation jet. But, in my nervous excitement for Amelia’s return, I’d gotten here too early and had to wait inside the tiny terminal.

  The little waiting room was poorly appointed, with one smelly little bathroom, an uncomfortable bench, and a coffee table littered with old aviation magazines and overflowing ashtrays. I was also alone except for the pimply young man behind the front desk. He was clearly annoyed that he had to pretend to work while I was here. I poured myself a cup of bad coffee simply to hold something warm. It was still dreadfully cold outside, and this little room seemed to have no heater. It was marginally better than being outside, but only just. For the fifth time since I’d been sitting here, I cursed myself for not waiting in the car with the heater on, environment be damned.

  I heard the plane before I saw it. It was about an hour behind schedule. Amelia had told me that might happen and that I should simply wait at home for her, but I’d wanted to surprise her. I stood up and looked out the window to watch the plane come in, but with the rain and mist in the air, I didn’t see anything until it was almost landing. The plane taxied for a long time, driving in circles around the airfield despite having the run of the place. It finally came to a stop and then just sat there on the runway.

  Too impatient to wait any longer, I ran outside to meet it and stood there shivering in the cold until the plane door finally opened. The little stairs unfolded, and then, finally, Amelia was there at the top of them. I ran up them to greet her, and she was finally back in my arms.

  We kissed several
times, both of us laughing, before she led me back down to the ground. As the rest of the crew bustled around us, we stared at each other, both sets of hands linked.

  “My God, it’s good to see you,” she said. “I didn’t know if I was going to make it that long.”

  I shook my head. “Me either. I hated every minute of it.”

  “What are you doing here?” she asked. “I thought I told you to wait at home. You shouldn’t be out here in the cold.”

  I shrugged. “I couldn’t wait that long. I needed to see you.”

  She lifted one eyebrow. “Needed?”

  “Yes, needed. Do me a favor, Amelia, would you? Please don’t leave me alone like that again. It was awful.”

  She nodded. “Agreed. I’ve never been more eager to come home.” She looked around. “Where’s your car?”

  “Parked over there.” I gestured.

  “Let me tell the luggage handler, and we can wait in the car. I can’t believe how cold it is here. It might actually be chillier here than in Montreal.”

  We linked elbows and slowly walked back to my vehicle. Now that she was here, I was in no hurry to do anything but stand next to her.

  Her face suddenly scrunched up and she sneezed, loudly, and then again. We stopped as she fished around in her handbag and dug out a tissue. She blew her nose—a honking, wet-sounding trumpet—then folded up her tissue in disgust before putting it in a pocket.

  “On top of everything, I caught a cold this week. I’m getting better, but I’m still dripping like a faucet.”

  I nudged her slightly. “And here I was worried you’d get the flu, too.”

  “How are you feeling?” she asked as we walked. She looked concerned.

  I laughed. “I’m fine. I told you that. Just a little weak, but better every day.”

  She stopped and turned me to face her, looking at me for a long time. Finally, she nodded. “You look better, but you’re still very pale. You’ve lost some weight, too.”

  “Of course I have. I had the stomach flu. I could barely keep anything down. Even Aunt Kate’s soup wouldn’t settle there for a few days.”

  “I’m so glad you had her to take care of you while I was gone. I don’t know if I could have left if you hadn’t.”

  We’d made it to my car and climbed in. I turned it on, and blissful heat was soon streaming out of the vents. Having a new car, I’d found out recently, meant never having to wait for the heater or the air conditioner. Amelia had given me the car two months ago, and while initially I’d been reluctant to accept it, I’d almost gotten used to owning it. It still bothered me that she’d bought me this ridiculously expensive car, but I’d made peace with the idea. She could certainly afford it, and she was free to spend her own money as she liked.

  Amelia was sitting in the passenger’s seat with her eyes closed, and, now that I was looking at her more closely, I could see lines of fatigue on her face. We’d done a business trip to New York together a while back, and I knew what a trip like that could mean in terms of work and stress. A trip meant running around town all day long, staying up all hours with dinners and parties, and having long phone conversations with shipping experts and the office. And we’d gone to New York for only a week. Amelia had been in Canada for almost two. Her nose was red-rimmed from her cold, and her lips were chapped. All in all, she looked less like herself than I’d ever seen her.

  I waited a while longer as they loaded Amelia’s luggage into my trunk. Amelia dozed off in the meantime, and I realized then that no matter how tired she looked, she was actually far worse. Amelia gets by on five hours of sleep most of the time, and she had never, as far as I could recall, taken a nap in my presence. I’d rarely even seen her sleep. I was grateful once again for my new car, as the excellent shocks absorbed the roughness of the road, letting her sleep in peace as I drove.

  She didn’t wake up until we pulled into my driveway, and even then, she still seemed confused and sleepy.

  She blinked a few times and frowned. “Why are we here? I wanted to go back to my place.”

  I hadn’t thought of that. Of course she would want to go home. She’d been away for more than two weeks now. I stared at her blankly for a long moment, and her face clouded over with confusion.

  “I’m sorry,” I finally said. “I was being selfish. I wanted you to stay over tonight. I can drive you home now, if you want.”

  It was the right thing to say, as her face brightened happily. “Of course I’ll stay over, Chloé. I can’t promise you much more than a snotty, sleepy idiot, but I’d love to.” Her face clouded slightly. “Though I do wish you didn’t mind coming to my place so much.”

  This was an ongoing tiff between us—not a major one, but certainly something we’d discussed frequently. In general, we spent four or five nights together every week, and when we were together, we were almost always at my apartment. I was incredibly uncomfortable at Amelia’s stately home. While her house was beautiful, it was also cold and impersonal. It looked more like a museum than a place where anyone actually lived. It didn’t help that she had several staff members working for her—a cook, several gardeners, and two maids. None of them were live-in, and no one but the cook was there more than a few days a week, but I was always afraid I would run into one of them in the hallways of her house. I also had no idea how to act around them. It was, at best, like being in a hotel with no lock on the doors, but in general much worse. Not wanting to get into this argument with her right now, I nodded vaguely, and she sighed, also clearly in no mood to talk about it.

  “Let’s get inside, and I can draw you a nice, hot bath,” I suggested. “Then you can sleep for a while.”

  She chuckled a little. “Really, Chloé. I could have done all of this at home. It sounds boring for you.”

  I shrugged. “Not at all. I want you around even when you’re not exciting.” She grinned slyly at this comment, and I blushed. “I mean, you’re always exciting—”

  She held her hands. “It’s fine. Let’s get inside before we freeze to death out here.”

  We left her luggage in the car and went inside. I’d left the heat in my apartment blasting, but it was still a little chilly. At some point I would need to ask my landlord—Amelia’s dad—to look at the heater to see if it could be fixed to make my place a little warmer, but not right now.

  A while later, both of us warmed from a hot bath, I was standing in my bathrobe at the foot of the bed looking down at Amelia. She’d crawled under the covers a few minutes ago and was limp and boneless in sleep.

  I’d been looking forward to seeing her with a kind of crazy desperation since she left. Even at my sickest, I still craved her touch, waking up in a feverish desire several times during her absence. Looking at her now, I grinned wryly at my fantasies about our reunion. All of that would have to wait.

  Chapter Three

  Despite her illness and my remaining weakness, we both got up early the next morning to pick up our gowns. In a couple of days, it would be Amelia’s birthday. Her three brothers also had birthdays this past week and next, and Amelia’s mother was having her annual Winters Family Birthday Gala and charity dinner for them later today.

  An invitation to Hilda Winters’s annual party was a mark of distinction. Every year, Hilda pulled out all the stops for the elite of the city. It was her way of showing off the family wealth without being ostentatious. Like any good society lady, Hilda Winters knew that you shouldn’t throw a huge, lavish party without an associated charitable cause. It was unseemly to spend money without a reason. Hilda and Ted’s ruby wedding anniversary last fall was one thing—a party attended only by close family and friends. Over three hundred people were coming to the gala tonight. It would be irresponsible to let the opportunity to bleed all of these socialites go to waste. I’d struggled with this concept when Amelia first told me about it. It seemed like asking for money to attend what was ostensibly a social gathering, even if it was a large one. Moreover, it took attention away from what was suppose
d to be the point of the evening: the birthdays of four members of the Winters family.

  While I was looking forward to it out of a kind of horrified curiosity, the whole thing sounded cold and impersonal. It basically disgusted me until Amelia told me that last year they’d raised over a million dollars for the Louisiana Wetlands. Put that way, it did seem like it would be a wasted opportunity to raise money. Nearly everyone coming tonight could clearly afford to give some of their money away.

  Further, this year’s cause was Amelia’s choice. She and her brothers took turns choosing the charity. She’d chosen a local art coalition that brought artists and art workshops into local public schools and daycares that would otherwise be unable to fund them. A million dollars would go a long way toward making sure that a local budding artist would have a chance to find his or her passion.

  Hilda required the whole family to greet the guests when they arrived, which meant that I would arrive separately from Amelia later. Amelia chose my gown to complement hers, but she had to leave early that afternoon to join her family for some last-minute arrangements. In the meantime, I painted for a few hours and then drove over to Amelia’s house to finish getting ready. After I was dressed and styled, I sat in the front parlor, trying not to wrinkle my gown. I was waiting for my escort, Billy, Emma’s boyfriend, to take me to the party. Amelia’s oldest brother, Dean, was allowed to have his wife with him, but only because she was legally part of the family now. Billy and I would be upgraded to honorary Winterses only if we married our respective partners—not before then. Amelia had taken her mother’s edict with better grace than I would have, but then again, she was used to her.

  Billy finally arrived about five minutes before we needed to leave. As he approached Amelia’s house on the small stone walkway, I was once again struck by how incredibly huge he was. With a massive red beard and matching fiery hair, he looked like a lumberjack stuffed in a tuxedo. I opened the door and had to crane my neck to meet his eyes, and when he offered me his arm, I had to reach up to take his elbow.