Chapter 8 #3
Devon finished it in early October, a month after they’d started, and she was sorry when their work together ended. She had really enjoyed painting him.
He had asked her if there was a man in her life in the course of their sittings, and she had answered vaguely that there was someone in California.
“Of course there is,” he said, not surprised.
“I hope he doesn’t leave you alone for long, or he’ll miss his chance and someone will snap you up.
You’re young and beautiful, and one mustn’t waste time at your age.
It all goes by so quickly. I was a boy yesterday, and now I’m an old man…
with a beautiful young wife. One has to seize every opportunity.
Life is not to be wasted.” He had admitted later in their sessions that he had been married four times, always to actresses before Dahlia, and this time he said he had done it right, with a woman of real substance and merit.
He was a perfect example of the kind of subjects she loved to paint, intelligent and interesting with strong characters and fascinating lives and stories to tell.
Her next subject in October was less entertaining.
He was the latest judge appointed to the Supreme Court.
He had been a controversial choice, but he shared none of his views or life experience with Devon.
He sat silent and serious at every session, and she had to put on music to try to soften his expression.
It helped a little but not enough. He had remained rigid and solemn and sealed tight.
He had only warmed up in the final sessions, and she managed to get some interesting insights and a wise look in his eyes.
But he wanted a stern, exact portrait, which was what emerged in the end.
His lack of warmth and exchanges with her made him harder to paint than Sir Reggie, and she had to rely on her training and technique more than her instincts.
But the portrait was precisely what he had wanted.
At the beginning of November, she painted a woman who had been a movie star in her youth, had become involved in international relations, and been the U.S.
ambassador to England twice, and once to France.
The painting was a gift from her to the U.S.
Embassy in Paris. She had just been appointed the ambassador to the United Nations.
Miriam Holtzman was fascinating and fun to paint, with countless stories about her experiences.
She was still beautiful in her late sixties, and had an immense vitality and drive, and strong opinions about international politics.
Devon learned a lot from her subjects. The commission had come through the gallery, as most of them did.
She liked painting women but had fewer opportunities to do so.
She wanted to tell Charlie about the subjects she was painting, but he rarely had time to talk about it with her.
He was rushed and busy, and called her on the fly between meetings.
She finished work at five-thirty every day, on the dot, when she released her subjects, which was only two-thirty in the afternoon for Charlie, still in the middle of his workday.
He left his own office around eight p.m., and usually went on to business dinners.
It was already eleven o’clock at night for Devon, and she was usually asleep by then.
She poured so much into the sessions with her subjects that she was drained by the end of the day.
She was painting Miriam Holtzman in a serious black evening gown, with her medals noticeable on her gown.
She had been given the Legion of Honor when she left Paris, and was proud of it.
She wanted it in the portrait. Each subject had a special request of some kind.
Her December subject had already said he wanted to be painted with his dog in the portrait with him.
Devon was nervous about it, since a pet could be distracting, and he hadn’t specified how big the dog was, but it had been a condition of the commission, and he was an interesting man, so she had agreed.
—
Liam called his father on the tenth of November, two weeks before Thanksgiving, to tell him that he was working on a project for his classes.
He was designing a garden in Normandy, near Deauville, and he couldn’t leave it.
Thanksgiving wasn’t a holiday in France, which Charlie knew, and Liam was really sorry, but he wasn’t coming home.
He held his breath, while he waited for his father’s response, and Charlie hesitated for a minute.
“Is it about your new girlfriend, or school?” Charlie asked him, and Liam was honest with him.
“A little of both, but mostly school. We’re working on the project together, as part of a team. I honestly can’t leave. They won’t like it.”
“Your mother will be upset,” Charlie said, pensive.
“I know, but all she wants to see me for is to pressure me about Yale again. I’m trying to do what I’m doing here well. I don’t want to screw it up. I’m in charge of the project. It looks bad if I leave.”
“To your girlfriend or the school?”
“Both. I can deal with her, but I don’t want the school to think I’m a flake. Can you deal with Mom?”
“Yes,” Charlie said quietly. “But she’ll be pissed.
” However dysfunctional their family, Faye believed strongly in traditions and appearances, and the holidays were sacred to her.
She hired caterers to do a beautiful Thanksgiving table and dinner for them every year, just for the three of them.
They had no other family and never invited friends.
Their disjointed marriage made it difficult to maintain friendships with other couples, and they had lost friends along the way. They had distinctly separate friends.
“I promise I’ll come home for Christmas, no matter what. We have off then from school. I’ll be home for two weeks. Mom wants me to go skiing in Aspen with her, but I’m going to stay home. I’ll be there for sure. Will you tell her for me?” He sounded nervous about it.
“I will. I’m sure you’ll hear from her.”
“I really can’t come home, Dad. It’s not a holiday here. They won’t get it. It’ll count against me.”
“I’ll take care of it,” he promised, but they both knew it wouldn’t spare him from his mother’s anger and disappointment. Charlie understood.
Charlie told Faye that night, when she came home from the office, and he was home to change for a business dinner.
He wanted to call Devon, but he had to deal with Faye first about Liam, and it was already almost too late to call Devon.
He was going to miss her again. He hadn’t seen her in more than two months, and he knew she was upset.
She was getting impatient, and his excuses were wearing thin.
Charlie went down the hall to Faye’s bedroom and knocked. She came to the door in a terrycloth bathrobe, fresh from the shower with wet hair. She looked tired, and he had a feeling his announcement was not going to go well.
He got straight to the point. “Liam called me today. Thanksgiving isn’t a holiday in France and he can’t come home.
He thinks it will look bad for him at school if he just takes off.
He’s working on a project in Deauville. He knows you’ll be upset, but he says he really can’t come home.
” Faye exchanged a look with him and was visibly annoyed.
“Is it about the girl?” she asked him directly.
“I think it’s really about school, and a little bit of both. Thanksgiving means nothing in France.” She pursed her lips but she didn’t argue with him.
“I can’t force him to come home. What about Christmas?”
“He promised to come home, and I believe him. He’ll be here for two weeks. I’m sorry, Faye, I know it means a lot to you.”
“It does,” she confirmed. “I think once you let the big traditions go, you lose the family completely. I hope he’s not planning to stay in France after this class.
He needs to come home, before he turns into some half-assed French gardener in a beret.
” Charlie smiled at the image. She had a way with words.
“He’ll be home.”
“I wanted him to come to Aspen with me after Christmas. I suppose he won’t want to do that either,” she said with a sigh.
“He won’t want to be with either of us. He’ll want to be with his friends. It’s the age.” She knew it too.
“Is he bringing the girl home for Christmas?” Faye asked, worried.
“He didn’t mention it. I doubt it. I don’t think it’s that serious.”
“I hope not. He needs to get his ass back here, like a nice American boy.” That remained to be seen, but Charlie wasn’t about to tackle that with her now.
“What about Thanksgiving for us? It’s a little pathetic, just the two of us.
” She was giving him an opening, and he grabbed for it.
He had already thought of it after Liam’s call.
“I have some things I need to do in New York. To be honest, I’d rather skip the tradition this year, with Liam not here, and do what I need to do in New York.” Faye nodded, thinking about it. She wasn’t eager to spend Thanksgiving with him either. It sounded pathetic to her too.
“Do what you have to do,” she said. “I’ll cancel the caterer, and go to Aspen.” She had friends there she would rather be with for the holiday than with him.
“I’m sorry, Faye,” Charlie said sympathetically. He could see she was disappointed about Liam. He was too, but he wanted to see Devon.
“It’s inevitable with grown kids,” she said philosophically, and went back into her bedroom, while Charlie hurried down the hall to call Devon. He hoped she was still awake.
He called her, and the phone rang and finally went to voicemail.
She was either not answering or asleep. She didn’t go out at night when she was working on a commission.
She stayed with it until she finished, and then took a break.
She hadn’t had many breaks since Labor Day. Her commissions had been back-to-back.
He left her a message and told her he had great news. And then he sent her a text.
“Great news!” he texted her. “If you’ll have me, I would like to spend Thanksgiving with you.
” He thought about it for a minute and then continued, “If you like, I’ll try to spend the week.
Liam isn’t coming home. I’m free!” It was good news.
He was excited to see her, but after he sent it, he felt a ripple of fear run down his spine.
Spending a major holiday with her was a big statement.
He was getting in deeper, but it was the perfect opportunity to see her, and she had been patient for two and a half months.
If he loved her, he needed to go. He felt torn between wanting her and needing to see her and his fear of getting too dependent on her, and too deeply attached.
He sat staring at his phone for a few minutes after he sent the text.
He pushed his fears aside. He was going to see her again at last, almost three months after they had left each other in the Hamptons.
The time had flown, and in spite of his demons and scars of the past, he knew that she was the love of his life.
She was a wonderful person, and there was nothing to fear.