Chapter 36- Daisy
A rt is… art.
It’s been two weeks since I last saw Grant. At first, I was glad of it because that brittle shield over my heart couldn’t take too much exposure to him. But now, I’m starting to worry. Where the hell is he if he’s not here and not staying at the penthouse?
I do know he’s alive at least thanks to a lunch outing with my friends.
“Can confirm your man is going to work every day,” Grace tells me. “Hadley, the other assistants and I are really starting to worry about his cough and the bags under his eyes though.”
“He has a cough?”
“Just a cold he told Jameson but he’s absolutely miserable without you, I’ll bet.”
“Can confirm first hand, your man is miserable but trying to hang in there at work,” Callie says in reply to Kiara’s statement.
“I don’t want him to be miserable. I’m miserable enough for both of us.”
“No one wants either of you to be miserable,” Tabitha groans.
“His cousin probably does.”
“Fuck his cousin, his wife and that whole clan of Barclays. Can’t you two talk this out? I know it was shitty the way things went down and that he accused you of cheating like he did but he apologized.”
He did apologize and I accepted it but my hesitant heart isn’t sure that changes how he feels about me. “I said we should go back to the way things were and he agreed. What’s there to talk about? If he really wanted me… neither of us ever wanted this to be a real marriage to begin with.”
“Maybe you didn’t want the marriage at the start but you seemed much happier before the trip.”
“Kiara’s right. And, what if he only agreed to backing off because he thought that’s what you wanted?” Grace asks.
“You did say he’s not pushed you for anything you weren’t willing to do in this marriage,” Callie adds.
I shake my head at them, too afraid to hope yet. “What if he did want more for a bit but then decides I’m not what he really wants in a wife in the long run? It was all for him to inherit the estate and with my background… I’m sure you read the papers.”
“Daisy, none of us think any less of you for your past. And, I’d bet every last dime I have that your husband doesn’t either,” Remi says, speaking for the first time. “When I told you Samuel and I had an unconventional start to our relationship, I didn’t have the chance to explain that fully…”
She proceeds to explain it, leaving all of us with our jaws on the floor. Samuel had made Remi an offer not so different from the one Grant made me, except he just wanted a fake girlfriend for a few months instead of a temporary wife for a year. And, he didn’t originally threaten legal action to get her to agree. Not that I’m holding that against him.
“I never would’ve known you weren’t a legit couple!” Grace says.
“That’s because they were obviously meant to be together from the start,” Tabitha replies.
“Like you and Grant, Daisy,” Callie states.
“Yes, just like the two of you,” Remi agrees. “You may be very different people but I told you that night at the ball I’ve never seen Grant look at anyone the way he was looking at you. He may not be the best at managing his emotions and no one is faulting you for being afraid when we all know how much love can hurt sometimes. But, ignoring these feelings won’t make them disappear, will it?”
∞∞∞
I’d left that lunch outing uncertain of precisely what to do but knowing I wasn’t going to keep doing nothing. I’d gone straight up to my studio that afternoon and uncovered the portrait I’d been working on prior to our disastrous trip up north. I wanted to finish it for Grant as a gesture that the personal things he shared with me meant something and in the hopes that eventually we might find ourselves on a better path together.
And today, a week later, I’ve finished it. Elyse Pellew smiles back at me from the canvas and I hope it’s a fair enough rendering of the beautiful young woman who was taken from her son too soon. I have never worked on anything half so long and diligently as this. That’s what I want going forward, to not only treat art like a passion but also as something I’m very serious about. I think Grant would appreciate that as I’ve grown to appreciate his serious side more.
Now, I just have to find my husband to give him his gift.
He’s not answering his phone which seems like a bad sign. Maybe he doesn’t want to talk to me.
I try Hadley next figuring his assistant can put me in touch with him but she says he called in sick today. Mrs. Keating always uses the phrase ‘hurry, hurry, work and worry’ when she describes Grant. He doesn’t strike me as the type to call off work for kicks.
“When’s the last time Mr. Barclay took a sick day, Hadley?”
“Honestly, never since I’ve been working for him.”
Okay, that’s really worrying me.
I’m getting desperate enough to ask Jameson Reynolds to track him down - the ladies all say he certainly could - but decide to call someone else first.
“Have you seen him, Mimi?” I ask my grandmother over the phone, hoping the answer will be different than the last three times I asked.
“Yes, a few days ago. He brought a lovely bouquet of daisies.”
“He did?! You did?! Then, can you tell him-”
“No, Daisy. Much as I love you, I won’t be your go-between. This is something you need to talk through with your husband.”
“But… I’m scared I’ll screw it up, Mimi. With my Potter luck-”
“Daisy, you’ve used that excuse long enough to avoid romance. Just because your mother, sister and I have had some rotten men in our lives doesn’t have anything to do with luck. Go make your own luck and give your handsome beau a chance to show you how much he cares. Now, if you’ll forgive us, Jewel and I have massage appointments. Eros has a twin. Can you believe that? Oh, hold on. Your sister wishes to speak with you.”
I catch myself smiling as she comes on the line. I never wanted Jewel to be unhappy which is why I hated her being with Rod in the first place. Since they’ve split up and after she shared the icky plans he had in mind for her, I can tell she’s in a much better place. She just needs some time to work through it all and find her own voice again.
“Hey, Daisy. Are you still doing the mural painting thing tomorrow?” Jewel asks.
I hadn’t thought about it lately. As much as I pretend people looking at me doesn’t bother me, sometimes it does. It will be my first true public appearance since Vancouver and I’m not sure how I feel about that. There could be press there. But, I’m through with sitting around moping and I want to do it.
“Yeah, I think I will.”
“Good. I want to come watch.”
“You do?”
“Of course. I want to support you. Daisy, you deserve a better sister than I’ve been to you since Mom died and I’m sorry for that. I never should’ve taken Rod’s word over yours that day. I never should’ve said the things I did or pretended your struggles were all a choice you’d made and not my problem, too. So, may I come watch you paint tomorrow? You really are talented.”
“Have you been crying, child?” Mrs. Keating asks me when I head downstairs soon after I end the call with Jewel.
“Only a little and they’re happy tears.” I’d been very touched by Jewel asking to come watch me paint and the other things she’d said.
“What’s all the hullabaloo in the hall? Did Radcliffe call in another cleaning crew?” I ask. I hadn’t noticed the activity while I was upstairs but the house is full of strangers.
“Yes, the cleaning crew is here for some extra manpower to help the fellows from the art gallery.”
“Fellows from the art gallery? Which gallery?”
“Several of them, I believe.”
Mrs. Keating is called away before I can ask more questions so I wander down the hall surprised by what I see. All the Barclay Family portraits have been taken down. The walls are getting a cleaning and I spy the portrait of Great Aunt Imogen being placed inside a large crate.
Seeing Mr. Radcliffe supervising things, I hurry over to him. “What is going on?”
“Ah, good day, madam. The family portraits are being placed in storage for the time being. Mr. Barclay decided it was time for a new look for the manor house.”
“A new look?
“Yes, out with the old, they say,” Old Vinegar Fish sighs. I have never seen the man looking more miserable. “The gallery personnel will soon have the walls looking much less empty at least.”
“Grant bought art? For the house?” He nods. “If Grant ordered this, could you tell me where he is?”
“Oh, he’s around,” Radcliffe replies, enigmatically. “I do hope you’ve not given up on him altogether.”
“I haven’t.I…”
My words trail off as I see the first enormous gallery painting being hung on the wall where Grant’s three great aunts used to hang in a row. It’s a gorgeous oil painting and, though it’s not a famous work, it’s familiar to me.
“Mrs. Barclay?” a young man in a crisp white shirt asks. With my mouth hanging open, I nod and he carries over an envelope. “We’ll have all the purchases installed before long and allow me to convey on behalf of each gallery and the artists how most sincerely we appreciate your patronage. Oh and, I was told to give you this.”
Another work goes up, an expressionist piece. I know it from somewhere. The young man walks away and I rip open the envelope he handed me. I know his handwriting quite well from our flash cards. God, I miss him so much. I can almost hear him speaking the words written on the page.
I went back and visited the galleries we saw the day I had a first date with my wife. I think I recalled all your favorites though you’re welcome to select others if I was mistaken as I know I lack your artist’s eye.
Someday, I would love to see your paintings join these on our walls, Goldilocks
I think my heart is a puddle in my chest as I wander through the house inspecting every painting that’s been delivered. He may not have an artist’s eye but he remembered the ones that had stood out to me. He’d cared enough to ask and, what’s more, he’d cared enough to remember. They’re beautiful, inspiring and bring so much color and light to this old house.
With my heart full of affection for Grant, I go to the kitchen in search of anyone who can tell me where he might be. I find Luis there with Jenna who’s filling a thermos full of chicken noodle soup.
∞∞∞
Five minutes later, I’m marching to the maze with that thermos of hot soup. The sky is darkening and it looks like rain as Luis hurries to meet my strides. “What is he thinking sleeping outside? It’s winter!”
“He would say you did it.”
“Oh for goodness sake, I went to shelters or crashed at friends’ places or at work when it was cold and wet like this! Why did no one tell me he’s been doing this for the past three weeks?”
“I keep asking him how long he’s going to be stupid.”
“Luis!”
The gardener holds up his hands in surrender. “You didn’t ask, missus, and Mr. Grant didn’t want you to know.”
“Unbelievable!”
Yet, my anger fizzles out when I reach the tall hedges. It’s an imposing thing, mysterious and daunting. It doesn’t stop me from entering. I turn left and then right and, within minutes, I know I’m all turned around. I call his name but it sounds faint in here, as if some magic in the maze doesn’t want it to be that simple. But, the high hedges can’t hide the tree at its heart from me and I keep working my way steadily toward it.
The first drops of rain are falling when I find his tent. He’s asleep inside it. I’ve never seen Grant looking so disheveled, pale and drawn. He looks like hell honestly. “You really are camping out here like a man with no home,” I whisper. He coughs unexpectedly, startling me. It’s a horrible rattling thing. “Dammit, Grant, you need to be indoors. You’re not cut out for-”
“My home is with you or it’s not a home, Goldilocks,” he murmurs, opening those beautiful brown eyes.
Feeling his forehead, I’m too worried by how hot it is to let the sweet sentiment distract me. “We’re taking you inside.”
“I’m fine. How are you?”
I shake my head at him. “Inside, right now. Luis?! Are you nearby?!”
The gardener appears by my side, quiet and steadfast. He helps me pull Grant to his feet. “I’m alright. What are you doing here?” he asks me. “It’s raining. You’re getting wet.” Doesn’t he realize that his well being is more important right now?
“We’ll all be dry soon and I’m making sure you’re okay.”
“Did the paintings arrive today?”
“They did. They were… I don’t even know how to express how much I love them, Grant,” I tell him before directing Luis to help me get him moving.
“Oh good. I did something right.”
“You’ve done many things right.”
“But, I’ve done many things wrong.”
“Less talking, more walking, Grant.”
He chuckles at that though I’m very worried by his pallor. By the time we make it out of the maze, Jenna has come out of the house to find us in the downpour. “Have Mr. Radcliffe call for a doctor and tell Mrs. Keating to put on tea. We’ll get him up to the bedroom…”