Chapter 2 #3
She walked to the end of the hall; a collection of watercolors enticed her. These appeared to be all by the same artist; renderings of old commercial buildings like one might see walking in old Montréal.
Michael was at his desk, his head buried in papers. He looked up when she came in and closed his folder like a train stopping dead in its tracks.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to disturb. Please continue what you were doing,” she urged him.
“Nah... it’s fine.” He got up. “Boring stuff,” he said. “This will be much more fun.”
His office was furnished with solid oak missionary pieces and leather chairs; straight lines, very masculine. More books lined the walls, sitting next to pictures she didn’t really have the chance to observe.
They walked back to the entrance hall where she had admired the doors.
“I collect renderings of doors created in various mediums.”
“And what better way to display them than by the entrance,” she observed.
The collection was interesting; an eclectic mix of oil paintings, watercolors, photography and etchings. They walked by the study again, and she could see Dot speaking on the telephone.
“I wonder if she’s talking to the crochet man,” Michael said and they both laughed quietly.
In the hall, outside the study, were black and white photographs of modern buildings; architectural masterpieces set in mahogany wood frames. She recognized the Empire State building but the others left her clueless.
They moved to the dining room. A large mahogany wooden table with seating for twelve sat in the center under a black wrought iron chandelier surrounded by cream wall paneling.
On each and every panel, hung a beautiful painting of a church.
Churches from all over the world, Michael explained.
There were large extravagant churches and small unassuming churches.
As they made their way to the kitchen, she joked, “The only artwork I have at home is crayon on the walls.”
He smiled. He seemed surprised. “Oh...you have kids.”
“Oh no... the little artist is my Goddaughter Madison. She’s at my place all the time. She’s absolutely adorable.”
He smiled.
“How old is she?”
“Two.”
“They are adorable at that age, aren’t they?”
He seemed to know what he was talking about.
“Do you have any nieces or nephews?”
“Actually I do. They’re all teenagers now, though.” He had something else to say, but he just didn’t want to go there.
They made their way to the living area. Stunning deep chocolate hard wood flooring stretched through the living room.
Michael explained the floor was black walnut.
Angela didn’t know pine from oak or black walnut, but she got the impression that this was a very desirable floor.
It was certainly beautiful. He led her to one of the many colorful pieces of art on the walls.
Unlike the other collections, this collection was more unified.
“These are all by the same artist. He paints pictures of stain glass.”
“Art of art; interesting...I love the texture.” She tried to sound intelligent. She didn’t know why she kept trying to impress him. She wasn’t usually the type to try to impress people. She decided she was stopping that right then. He was certainly not judging her.
“He paints with a knife only. No brushes.”
This was by far, her favorite collection. After she had taken the time to admire each and every piece, they made their way back to his office.
“You have beautiful artwork and a fantastic home,” she told him, genuine.
“Thank you. I could give you a tour of the rest of the house if you’d like.”
She looked at her watch. She had been gone for almost four hours. ‘I’m sorry. I must be going.”
“Oh... I understand,” he said, not sure if he had overstepped.
“Speaking of my Goddaughter... I’m actually babysitting her today and I’m running late.”
What was wrong with her? Why was she lying? Why didn’t she just tell him she had to get home to make dinner for her fiancé?
“Well, off you go...” He smiled, thinking it was probably in everyone’s best interest if he did not take her to his bedroom.
“Thank you for the tour,” she offered on her way out.
“No problem. The pleasure was mine.”
When she got home, Robert seemed concerned by her extended absence.
She apologized and told him she and Dot had gotten to chatting and she hadn’t seen the time go by.
She did not mention the little art tour nor did she mention her gorgeous tour guide.
There she was again; lying, if only by omission.
She justified to herself that it was just an innocent tour of a beautiful home.
Why make him suspicious when there was absolutely nothing to be jealous about.
She could tell he was annoyed. All he said was, “You look like hell.”
She ran to the powder room. Her mascara had run a bit, her hair was matted against her forehead; she looked horrible. She was suddenly horrified at the thought of Michael seeing her like this. She was even more horrified at the thought of caring so much what Michael thought.