“Some woman came in this afternoon saying she didn’t know much about art, but the colors matched her living room.” Candy’s sweet giggle reminded me of the girl I knew in high school.
Assessing her piece again, she chewed her thumbnail. “I’m pretty happy with the result.”
“So am I.” I wanted to give her positive feedback. “Beautiful colors.” Which was true.
“I know it’s not your cup of tea. You always stuck to realism.”
“Yeah, realism in art, but unrealistic in every other part of my life.”
She giggled again. Then her gaze darted across the room. “Don’t look now, but your ex-husband just walked in.”
I was afraid I might see him; this was his territory. “Thanks for the warning.” Maybe if I was lucky, he wouldn’t notice me.
“I’d better start circulating,” Candy said. “I’ll check back in a few minutes, okay?”
“Sure, go mingle. I’ll look at your paintings.”
A moment later I heard Phil say, “Hey, Margo.” I looked over my shoulder to find him and Henry standing close by.
“Hello,” I said, then glanced back at the painting as though I were enrapt with its magnificence.
“Hank and I were out for a bite to eat,” Phil said, stepping between me and the painting. “I talked him into coming down to check out the Thursday night scene. Darla’s meeting me here. Have you run into her?”
I put on a syrupy smile. “No, not yet.”
Henry, at my side, asked, “What brings you here?” He sounded like a teacher addressing his student.
“The artist,” I said. “Candy Hooper and I have been friends since high school. Her paintings are great, don’t you think?”
He eyeballed the room, then moved closer and spoke in my ear. “Not a thing wrong with them, but I’ll bet you could do as well, if not better.”
Those were the last words I expected to hear. “I doubt that very much.” I scrutinized the painting again. He might be right about Candy’s work. Maybe she didn’t produce masterpieces—the kind future generations would acclaim. But was he right about my potential? No way. Then it occurred to me he was reciting catch-phrases of encouragement, as he did with all his students.
I heard Phil say, “Hi, sugar,” then noticed Darla slinking our way. She sidled up next to him and slipped her arm under his.
“Hi, sweetie.” She snuggled against him like a cat marking its territory. Then she whispered something into his ear that caused a snuffle of laughter and a shake of his head.
Looking for an engagement ring, I tried to see her left hand, but it was tucked under Phil’s arm and not visible. I said hello, but she didn’t answer. I was sure she heard me, but decided to let it go. I had nothing to say to her and didn’t feel like being the brunt of her snide remarks.
Dipping her chin, Darla gazed up at Henry. “Hello, there,” she said. “We still need to get you together with you-know-who.”
Henry gave her a strained look, one I couldn’t decipher. “Hello, Darla.”
When Phil introduced Candy to Darla, her glossy smile widened. “I’m delighted to meet you,” she said, her voice gushing. “Your paintings are fantastic.”
“Thank you,” Candy said. “I can never hear that too often.”
“I want to be just like Candy when I grow up,” Phil said. His arm curved around Darla’s petite waist, and he pulled her close. “Ms. Hooper’s getting to be the big fish in the little pond around here. I hear she sells every canvas as soon as the paint’s dry.”
Candy beamed with pleasure as she discounted Phil’s praise. “Phil, you’re making my head swell.” Then she and Darla fell together in rapid conversation, as if knowing Phil automatically made them old friends.
“I absolutely adore this one,” Darla said of the painting nearest us. She blinked up at Phil. “Sweetie, don’t you think I need something like this in the shop?” Darla turned to Candy to describe her boutique, located several blocks away.
“Darla’s Choice is your store?” Candy’s voice trembled as if she were asking the Queen of England if she really lived in Buckingham Palace. “I love that place. You have the most beautiful clothes in town. Tell me what days you work, and I’ll be sure to come in when you’re there.”
I watched Darla in her body-hugging sweater and knit pants that draped her rear and legs seductively. No wonder Phil couldn’t resist her. Yet when her left hand finally came into view, I could see she wasn’t wearing a ring.
“I just got in a fabulous new line that would look stunning on you,” Darla told Candy. “They’re a little pricey, but you won’t run into yourself every time you turn around.”
“I’d love to see it,” Candy said. “I’ll come in tomorrow.”
“Good, I’ll look forward to seeing you. Maybe we can grab a cup of coffee too.”
“Okay.”
“Hank, old man.” Phil’s voice drowned out the women. “Darla needs me to help her move some display cases at the shop. I’d better run over there right now. Hey, Margo.” He tapped my shoulder like a little kid trying to get his mother’s attention. “Could you give this professor of yours a ride home? You two live pretty close to each other. You don’t mind, do you?” He waited for my response, an expectant smile on his face.
“I guess I could,” I said.
“Perfect. I’d better get this over with.” He slid his arm back around Darla’s waist and planted his hand on her hip. “Sugar, let’s get out of here.”
Darla suddenly gaped at me, as if discovering my presence for the first time.
