Summer Breeze (31 page)

At a quarter after six, Ben entered. He kissed Bella’s cheek. “Break a leg.”

“Thanks,” Bella said. “But Mom’s already done that for me.”

At six-twenty, Penny Aristides and her husband arrived, and a few minutes later Shauna Webb and her partner came in.

It looked more festive now, Bella thought, as people carried their wine around the room, studying the pieces.

At six-thirty,
finally
, came a rush of people. They were all friends of Bella’s parents, or her friends from high school, but they exclaimed
loudly over the shop, the art, the rugs, and transformed the evening into a party.

Then! Two women entered whom Bella had never seen before. Both were coiffed so simply the cuts had to be expensive. They wore Lilly Pulitzer dresses. Were these Bella’s first real customers?

Morgan poked her in the back. “Go.”

Bella gulped. She approached the women. “Hello. I’m Bella Barnaby. I’m so glad you came. Would you like some wine?”

“We’ll just wander,” the woman said, and her eyes were all over the walls, taking everything in.

Another couple came in, a man and woman Bella didn’t know, and then another.

And another.

Bella stayed near the door, greeting people. Soon she had to raise her voice slightly to be heard over the chatter and laughter of the crowd. Time blurred. At one point, Josh quickly crossed the room to join her.

“Bella, I’d like you to meet Ronald and Eva Ruoff.”

Eva Ruoff was almost frighteningly perfect, with a lifted, Botoxed face and a tight dress displaying a sculpted body. Her smile was taut and looked painful. She extended a limp hand to shake Bella’s. The rings on Eva’s hands bit into Bella’s palm.

“Pleasure,” Eva said succinctly, then turned, scanning the room. “Hmm. You’ve got abstracts like the one the O’Keefes have in their house.”

“Yes,” Josh said. “Let me introduce you to the artist.” Smoothly, he led the Ruoffs over to talk to Natalie.

Bella turned to greet more people. The Gilberts, Hoffenbys, and Watsons, all friends of her parents, showed up in a cluster, made a fuss over Bella, then strolled around the room. Madeline Gilbert chirped, “Oh, there’s Eva Ruoff. She’s new to the area, she’s volunteered for the museum. She’s got such exquisite taste.” She hurried over to chat with Eva.

Around seven, the flow ceased. Bella was grateful, because it gave her a chance to wander around and talk with her guests, but beneath the relief was a thin layer of terror:
What if nothing sold?

Keeping a bright smile on her face, she ambled around the room until she came to the first two women who’d appeared. They were standing in front of Natalie’s charcoal of Aaron. They were giggling.

“Twenty thousand is a bit much,” one woman said.

The other said, “I’m divorced, I’m fifty-five, I’m a professor of art history, I have nudes all over my house. Really, Dorie, you shouldn’t imply that I’d buy it simply because the man is gorgeous.”

Bella held her breath.

“It
is
rather brilliant,” the first woman said. “This line here … this sweep. The curve, the sense of power …”

Should she introduce them to Aaron? Should she say something or keep quiet? Bella hadn’t thought this through. With her mother’s inventory, it hadn’t mattered so very much; Louise’s offerings had been inexpensive, easy to discuss.

Decisively, the woman announced, “I’m going to get it. Where’s the owner?”

Bella thought she would giggle deliriously. Instead, she heard herself say silkily, “I’m right here, actually. I’m so glad you like it. The artist studied in New York. She’s here tonight. Would you like to meet her?”

She led the two women over to meet Natalie. As they conversed, the art history professor effortlessly slipped her credit card to Bella. Natalie charmed the two women while Bella took care of the business side, and it was with a thrill that ran from her scalp to the soles of her feet that she placed a red dot for
Sold
on the label next to the drawing of Aaron.

Almost at once, Eva Ruoff was at her side. “I want that one.” She pointed to one of Natalie’s abstracts.

“Oh, lovely,” Bella said. “Have you met Natalie Reynolds? She’s the artist. She studied at the Art Students League in New York.”

“Yes, Morgan told us about her. Up-and-coming, isn’t she?”

At that moment, the reporter and photographer from the
Hartford Courant
appeared. Eva Ruoff went nearly neon with delight at having her photo taken next to the painting she’d just bought.

As Bella answered the reporter’s questions, she noticed, almost accidentally, that while she was working, Slade had arrived. He
wore, as usual, all black, and he looked sleek, glamorous, and surly. It was an excellent look for him. He was behind the display counter, taking out a velvet tray to show a customer Penny Aristides’s jewelry.

“Oh, Slade, thank you,” Bella whispered to herself. The crowd parted, and she saw Aaron—he and Morgan were chatting as they walked around the room together, subtly removing empty glasses and wadded napkins from the surface of various antiques. Her father was out in the crowd now, talking with friends, and Ben had gone behind the counter to take over the bartending. “Oh, my friends!” Bella murmured. How did anyone do this alone?

The reporter and photographer cruised the room, took more pictures, and left. Bella concluded the sale of the abstract to Eva Ruoff. She found a moment to say hello to Slade, who was still behind the counter, showing someone else jewelry, and then Morgan tapped her shoulder.

“Bella? I’d like you to meet a friend of mine.”

Bella turned. The woman before her was as short as Bella would be if she weren’t wearing her high heels, and she was nearly as wide as she was tall. She seemed to be wearing a shirtwaist dress from the 1950s, complete with pearls and a rhinestone brooch shaped in a starburst. Her hair was white, her eyes brown, her expression grandmotherly. A nice little old lady.

“This is Bella, Mrs. Smith,” Morgan told the woman.

Mrs. Smith held out her hand. “Charmed, darling. You’ve got quite a nice gallery here. Very interesting taste.”

“Thank you,” Bella replied.

“Some of the furniture brings me back to my childhood,” Mrs. Smith continued. “Well, staying with my grandparents, the appointments in their homes. As a very young girl, I used to hide beneath a table rather like that drop-leaf, pretending I was in a cave.”

“Oh, I know. I used to do that sort of thing, too,” Bella confided.

“But it’s the gargoyle cabinet that really takes me back. I haven’t seen one of those in years. And all the stained glass in the top doors looks original. Is it?”

“Oh yes,” Bella informed her. “I know that personally.”

“Well, in that case, how can I not take it? Fifteen thousand doesn’t seem out of line at all. I looked all over at the Winter Antiques Show in New York this spring and didn’t find anything nearly close.”

Bella just stared.

“Bella?” Morgan prompted.

“Oh my goodness,” Bella sputtered. It was only now that she realized she had never expected this particular piece of furniture to sell. It was huge, ungainly, odd, hard to dust, and it was topped with a hideous gargoyle. Her old friend. The mythic monster she’d thought her own children would wonder at and gradually learn to love. But she had been the one to type out the label, name the price, describe the piece and the provenance, and affix the label to the wall.

A crowd had gathered around them, watching as Mrs. Smith opened the middle drawer. It slid out smoothly. She bent down to open the bottom doors and peer inside at the glossy, recently polished wooden shelves.

“Yes, I know exactly where I want to put this,” Mrs. Smith murmured to herself.

Slade appeared at Bella’s side, deftly slipping her the sales clipboard.

Eva and Ronald Ruoff joined the crowd.

“Morgan,” Eva prodded sotto voce, “why don’t you introduce us to your friend?”

Morgan nodded agreement, but waited until Mrs. Smith had finished her inspection of the cabinet.

“Will you take a check?” Mrs. Smith asked Bella.

Bella’s mouth went dry. “A check for fifteen thousand dollars?” Mrs. Smith’s starburst brooch was not, Bella swiftly realized, costume jewelry.

“You can let it clear the bank before you deliver it,” Mrs. Smith informed her.

“Yes, of course,” Bella said.

The moment Mrs. Smith handed Bella the check, Eva moved in. “I’m Eva Ruoff. I’m a dear friend of Morgan’s.”

“Yes,” Morgan agreed, and with what she hoped was an elegant gesture, indicated her husband’s boss, “and this is Ronald Ruoff, Eva’s husband.”

“You’re new to the area,” Mrs. Smith observed. “You’re that new business outside Amherst.”

“Bio-Green,” Ronald said with a courtly dip of his head.

“Chemicals,” Mrs. Smith qualified.

“Chemicals,” Ronald agreed, preparing to launch into his saving-the-world speech.

“I like chemicals,” Mrs. Smith told them. “I like to invest in new companies. I need to sit down. Find me a place to sit and then tell me all about Bio-Green.”

Smoothly, Slade announced, “I’ll bring two chairs from the back and put them in the corner.”

Bella remained for a moment standing in front of the gargoyle cabinet, just slightly paralyzed.

Morgan whispered in her ear, “Buck up, chum. Lots more going on tonight.”

Bella nodded. “Thanks, Morgan.” She fastened the blessed check into the clipboard, filled out a sales receipt, and handed it to the buyer. Josh escorted Mrs. Smith to the chairs. Beatrice wandered past, her long multicolored peasant skirt and white tank top showing off her abundant hourglass figure. She wore flip-flops, no jewelry. Anyone else would look out of place, but Beat’s long, wavy curls and her carriage, at once erect and careless, gave her a movie star aura. If Gypsies could be blond, Beatrice would be a Gypsy queen.

“Your sister looks like one of the models for the Pre-Raphaelites,” Natalie whispered to Bella.

She watched her sister head for the drinks table to kiss her father and mother and chat with them. She watched as Slade’s eyes zeroed in on Beatrice, slowly taking in the charms of this flip-flop princess, her lazy, ripe curves and sensual movements. She didn’t blame Slade. Beat was a marvel to watch.

Beat strolled around the gallery; she spent the most time staring at the charcoals of Louise and the one of Petey.

Sliding up to Bella, she whispered, “Aren’t you the clever one.”

Bella frowned. “Am I?”

Beat gestured vaguely around the shop. “You’ve pulled together a world, Bella. Would you call it an
ambience
? I don’t really know. I just never realized you had all this”—Beat held out her hands—“in you.”

“I never knew either, until now,” Bella confessed, warmed by her sister’s praise. She wanted to hear more, but Beat gasped.

“Who in sweet heaven is
that
?”

Bella hardly had to glance his way to know whom Beat was gawking at. “Slade Reynolds. Natalie’s brother. He’s an expert in antique furniture. He was a great help to me in setting up the store.”

“I’ll just bet he was.” Beat sashayed away, toward the jewelry counter.

Aaron and her father were following Slade’s example and bringing folding chairs out from the back, setting them in conversational groupings around the gallery. People dropped into them with relief, leaning toward one another, talking. More people strolled the gallery. Penny Aristides was at the jewelry case, displaying her creations to a clutch of glamorous young women Bella hadn’t even noticed entering the shop.

A reporter from the
Daily Hampshire Gazette
was interviewing the Ruoffs and Mrs. Smith while a photographer snapped shots.

Bella put her mouth next to Morgan’s ear. “Who the
hell
is Mrs. Smith?”

Morgan answered, “I don’t know. I met her at the gym. And I siphoned gas into her car.”

“You siphoned gas into her car?”

“She was on empty. Her car is an old wreck. I had no idea she could pay fifteen thousand dollars for anything.”

“She has to have some money to belong to that gym,” Bella mused. “I certainly can’t afford to go there.”

Morgan grinned. “Maybe you can after tonight.”

Pearl Dennehy, one of Bella’s high school friends, came to her side. “I can’t believe you did all this, Bella! It’s awesome. Of course,
I’ll never be able to afford even a pair of earrings here, not with the twins and a new one on the way.” Smugly, she patted her belly.

Bella listened to Pearl recount the many wise and witty things her twins did. As she listened, Bella surreptitiously checked her watch and scanned the room. It was almost nine o’clock! Bella’s had been officially open for three hours. People were beginning to leave, coming up to tell Bella good-bye or simply drifting out the door into the dark summer night. As soon as the first group left, more people followed. Beat came up, hugged Bella, and said, “Congratulations, you funny little thing,” then left.

By nine-thirty, Bella was alone with her family and friends.

“We’re exhausted,” her father said. “Were going home to put our feet up.”

Bella hurried over to kiss her parents. “Mom, Dad, thank you.”

Morgan was beaming. “Josh and I put the wine and seltzer in the back room. All the canapés are long gone. I’ve checked the furniture: no sign of stains.”

Bella laughed. “Morgan! You don’t have to do all this.”

“I’m delighted to do it, honey.” She enfolded Bella in a warm hug. “What a success tonight was! Congratulations!”

Ben and Aaron were hefting the barrels of ice out the front door, tipping them so the melted ice splashed onto the gravel drive. Slade and Josh were folding the legs of the wine table and carrying it through the door into the back room. Bella cruised the gallery. Everything was already in place.

Natalie had been standing with her arms around her waist, staring at her charcoal of Aaron. Now she threw herself at Bella, grabbing her in a fierce hug, nearly knocking her over. “Oh, Bella, you
genius
.” She burst into tears.

“Hey,” Bella said, holding her friend. “I’m not the genius. You’re the one who sold two pieces tonight. You’re the artist.”