Chapter 7 #3
“My dad is the brother of the artist who did this portrait. Asher Glissen and Pearce Glissen. The artist is my Uncle Asher. No two brothers in the history of the world could be more different than they are. I still can’t believe they both came from Gammy.”
Theo droned a long ‘so-o-o’ as he processed Minnette’s revelation. “So, Asher the artist and Pearce, your dad, are brothers. And their mother, Gammy, raised you. My, my. So, you must know the artist quite well.”
“I know him very, very well. Much better than I know my own dad. And I adore my Uncle Asher.”
“And I’m sure you have seen your uncle’s portraits many times before?”
“Of course. All my life, I’ve seen his work. I spent lots of time with him and Aunt Brooke — that’s his wife — when I was growing up. They have one daughter too. Samantha. I call her ‘Sam.’ We practically grew up together.”
“Minnette, I’m curious, why did you come here this evening? I think Mr. Asher might have given you the portrait if you’d asked.”
She nodded. “I’m sure he would have. But for once I wanted to do something brave.”
They continued talking, mostly Theo asking questions and Minnette answering. About CPA work. About Golden. About Uncle Asher. About Gammy. He finally apologized for keeping her so long and thanked her for welcoming him to the city.
And then, with a touch of the theatrical but in a voice heard only by her, he held out the portrait and declared, “Mrs. Minnette Glissen Prentiss, before I go, I remind you, this face belongs to one who is strong and brave and kind. It belongs to one who is capable of saintliness. You, my dear, are Gammy’s pride and joy, the gold of Golden, the wine of the Chalice, and, for an old man new to your town, a great blessing.
I present to you this, the portrait of St. Minnette. ”
He bowed his head ceremoniously and handed her the picture. “My dear… for you.” The hint of a laugh bore witness to a man whose heart was full.
Minette nodded in reply to his bow and accepted the gift. She was surprised by a faint quiver of her lips when she attempted to thank him.
The evening had eased through twilight into early darkness. The old man’s wish had been fulfilled, the suspicions of the young woman had been put to rest, the gift had been given.
When Theo asked if he might walk Minnette to her car or wherever she needed to go, she thanked him but declined the offer, telling him that she wanted to sit by the fountain a while longer.
Had she been thinking more clearly at that moment, she might have asked him to join her and Derrick for supper.
She might have asked him for an address or phone number or even his full name. But none of that occurred to her.
With awareness that their conversation and first meeting were drawing to a close, Theo made a request. “Minnette, please do thank your uncle for me. Perhaps I will meet him, too, someday. Tell him he has the great admiration and respect of an old man from Portugal.”
Portugal? Minnette realized she knew next to nothing about her benefactor. If asked later to describe him, she would only be able to say he was a gracious old man, interesting, attentive, and inquisitive. And, at least once upon a time, in love.
“And please thank Mr. Prentiss for me as well. Goodnight, my dear.” He put on his hat and turned to go.
After he had taken a few steps, Minnette called his name.
He turned.
“You are an exquisitely handsome eighty-six-year-old man.”
He smiled, tipped his hat, and walked away.
Minnette remained seated, held the portrait to her chest with folded arms, and stared into the waters of the fountain.
Derrick, deeply curious about what he had just witnessed, had the instinctive presence of mind to let her sit alone a while longer.
Stillness came hard for her — another byproduct of being raised to value efficiency and achievement as supreme virtues — but she seemed at rest, childlike and unhurried, even as the Promenade busied itself around her.
When she finally looked around and spotted Derrick, she waved him over.
They sat silently. She took a deep breath, pulled his arm around her, leaned into his shoulder, and felt her eyes become teary for reasons she could not possibly put into words.
She would tell Derrick all about the bestowal later.
For now, she simply whispered, “I’m glad you didn’t buy the portrait. ”
In the following days, they lived in a slightly altered state of mind, as if having been visited by a vision or a spirit.
They could have told others what had happened — “we met the most unusual old man the other day” — but they never did, for fear that doing so would be a violation of something sacred.
They would, however, tell their children about it someday.
They hung the picture in the bedroom, at the place where Minnette often stood to dress in the mornings.
Had anyone walked in at the right moment and listened carefully, they might have heard her whisper, “Good morning, St. Minnette. You are strong. And you are brave. And you are kind. Even when you are sad.”