Chapter 10 #2
I tuned out the rest because I could recount it from memory.
Berthe Marie Pauline Morisot was a French impressionist painter who wasn’t as celebrated as her male compatriots, despite her incredible talent.
Married to the brother of the famed édouard Manet, she struggled her whole career to be taken seriously as an artist, with most male critics patronizingly praising the “feminine charm” in her work.
Both Mom and I loved her, and this painting, one of Morisot’s lesser-known works, was the crown jewel in my parents’ art collection.
The fact that Theo recognized a Morisot painting that had never been recreated in print was unbelievable.
Literally.
The bastard must have done more spying on my family than I’d realized, and now I was worried at just how much he knew about us. About me.
I joined them by the painting.
“No,” Theo said, sounding appropriately shocked. “It was just sitting in the back of the gallery?”
“On the floor, if you can imagine, leaning against the wall in a neglected corner of the room,” Mom told him.
“And they had no idea what they had?”
Mom shook her head. “We practically stole it from them. In our defense, we didn’t believe it was real at first. The bottom edge was so thick with dust that only the first few letters of her signature were visible, and even after we had it professionally restored, we thought surely it was a fake.
Imagine our shock when one of her biographers told us it was the real deal.
She’d found a reference to it in one of Morisot’s diaries, and all the other analyses confirmed her belief. ”
“Incredible,” Theo said.
“And it’s hung here ever since,” I said, butting my way into their conversation.
This little interaction made my hackles rise.
I wanted Theo as far away from my mother as possible.
I didn’t like how easily he’d ingratiated himself, or the smoothness of the upper-crust American accent he was using.
His transition was almost as frightening as his outburst of violence, and it had me back to wondering who the hell this man was and what he was really after.
Taking a page out of Mom’s playbook, I slid my arm through his and tugged at him. “We should join the party.”
“Tippi will be so glad to see you,” Mom said. “I’ll be out in a moment. I just need to grab something from upstairs for Babs.”
We parted ways, my mind spinning as I led Theo away.
“How do you plan on convincing anyone we’re dating if you only let me have five seconds with them?” he whispered.
“Trust me, I was doing you a favor. My mother is incredibly observant. The more time we spend around her, the more likely she’ll realize we hate each other.”
“Hate?” Theo said, and I could hear the grin in his voice without having to look up at him and confirm it. “Such a strong word.”
“Well, let me go after one of your family members, blackmail you, attack that same family member, and then force my way into your life. Then tell me how you feel.”
He shrugged. “Go ahead and try. I don’t have any family.”
“That explains a lot,” I muttered.
Unfortunately, he heard me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.”
He slowed his steps. “Say it, Stella.”
Fine. He really wanted to know? I’d tell him. “I was just thinking that it’s probably easy to be such a heartless bastard when you don’t care about anyone but yourself.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” he said, sounding like he wasn’t even insulted. “I have friends, like anyone else.”
“Yeah, friends who are probably as fucked up as you are.”
For some reason, that made him chuckle. “Oh, Sunshine. You have no idea.”
Second life goal: never meet his friends.
Our conversation died as we reached the party.
The rear rooms of the house had oversize windows to take advantage of the view over the rolling rear lawn and trees.
Through them I saw a crowd of people gathered around a series of tables, umbrellas overhead to block the midday sun, fans blowing a gentle breeze to keep it cool.
The patio was large, spilling downward in a series of terraces that eventually ended at the pool.
I could tell from the shrieks and splashes echoing through the open bifold doors that the young guests were taking advantage of the water.
“Ah, welcome back,” Richard said, coming up beside us.
Theo’s grip on my waist tightened painfully before easing into a looser hold. Another warning? If so, I didn’t need it. I was finally well and truly afraid of what would happen if I got on his bad side, and I feared that even going to the cops wouldn’t keep him from getting his revenge on me.
“I had to go collect my boyfriend,” I said, the b-word rolling a little more easily off my tongue. “Richard, this is Theo. Theo, my parents’ business partner, Richard Lawson.”
Richard stepped forward with his hand extended toward Theo.
They were almost the same height, and both blond, though Richard’s hair was mostly silver now.
His skin was also a few shades darker, tanned from his recent trip to Italy, making his light blue eyes pop in the midday sun.
Between his well-preserved good looks and wealth, he was one of the most eligible bachelors in the city, but he hadn’t dated anyone in years, at least not that I knew of.
We all assumed he was still recovering from the lingering heartbreak that had almost destroyed him a few decades ago.
“Nice to meet you, Theo,” he said.
Theo released his hold on me to shake the older man’s hand, his smile easy, gaze lasered in. “You, too, Richard.”
The men released each other, and Theo re-draped his arm around my waist like it belonged there.
Richard had been part of my life since the day I was born.
He was my godfather, and more like an uncle to me than any of my actual uncles.
Aside from my family, he knew me better than anyone else at this party, and I needed to keep Theo moving before Richard picked up on my discomfort.
“Have you seen Tippi?” I asked. “I want to make sure Theo meets her before the food is served.”
Richard tipped his head toward the yard. “Last I saw, she and your dad were down on the lawn.”
“It was nice to meet you,” Theo said as I dragged him away.
“You, too,” Richard replied.
We greeted others as we wended our way toward the lawn, quick hellos and brief introductions mostly.
Theo seemed to charm everyone immediately, and it only made me grumpier.
All I could think about was the altercation in the study.
Lurking behind his easy smiles and friendly banter, I saw something else: him pivoting, lightning-fast, driving the hand currently wrapped around my waist into my brother’s side. No hesitation. No mercy.
Despite the summer heat, I shivered.
Finally we stepped onto the grass, and Theo pulled me closer. No one was near enough to overhear us, but he still dropped his voice. “Smile, Stella. It’s a beautiful day, we’re at a lavish party to celebrate some old broad’s birthday, and your brother still has all his fingers and toes.”
“For now,” I countered. “But I’m sure the next time I make you mad, you’ll threaten to cut off a few of them.”
“Not a bad idea,” he mused.
I snarled.
He chuckled, the sound low and antagonistic. “You know, for someone of your advanced years, you’re really easy to rile up.”
I stopped walking, wondering if I should be pissed or insulted. With Theo, I could never quite decide between the two. “I’m thirty-five.”
He stopped a step after me, turned, grinned. “You’re practically a cradle robber.”
“Oh, please,” I said, looking him over. “I can’t be that much older than you.”
“Ten years, actually.”
What the fuck were they feeding these midwestern farm boys?
“So,” he continued, and I didn’t like the look in his eyes, “that means when you were my age, I was—”
I clamped a hand over his mouth to shut him up.
And then reality came crashing back in, and I realized who I’d shut up and immediately pulled my hand away. I was just about to force myself to apologize, no matter how unappealing the thought, when someone approached out of my periphery.
I turned to see my father, practically grinning ear to ear as he looked between the two of us.
Unlike Mom, there was no deeper emotion hiding behind his smile, no guile in his gaze.
He was just genuinely happy that I’d finally brought someone home to meet him.
It was then that I realized how this interaction between Theo and I might look: like we were having some sort of cute little couple-y exchange, and it was all in good fun.
Especially because of how wide Theo was smiling as he turned toward Dad.
“Mr. McCormick,” he said, offering to shake.
Dad shuddered, brown eyes creasing at the corners as he scrunched his befreckled nose. “Mr. McCormick was my father,” he said, gripping Theo’s hand. “Please, call me Phil.”
“Phil,” Theo said as they released each other. “Thank you so much for having me.” He turned to take in the scene. “This is quite a party.”
Dad’s smile softened. “It’s probably going to be Tippi’s last year with us, and we wanted to make sure the old girl was celebrated in style.”
“Don’t say that,” I chided him, dropping into a crouch as Tippi tottered over to us.
Her rheumy eyes were fixed on me, and she picked up the pace a little, her tail starting to wag like she still had some life left in her yet.
“She’s going to live forever, aren’t you, girl?
” I said, cupping her face and dropping a kiss on her forehead.
I heard a choking noise from overhead, and then Theo’s disbelieving voice. “Tippi is a dog?”