Even when seated across the table, Andrea towered over me. The girl’s fair complexion, the horizontal cut of her bangs, and her long eyelashes that fluttered when she spoke to Rob all reminded me of what I’d coveted in my rivals in high school. As I speared a square of ravioli, I thought about the popular crowd, the cutest girls in the senior class, and the cheerleaders who dated the football players. Apparently my son liked this type more than the short, dark-haired ones who were funny and smart. In other words, the girls like me.
“Want any of this?” Andrea asked Rob as she nudged her plate in his direction. They traded plates, and Rob polished off her chicken.
I lingered over the dessert menu. “We could order one spumoni ice cream and one tiramisu and share them,” I suggested.
“I’m too full to eat another bite,” Rob said. “Besides, we need to get going.” He tossed his napkin on the table. “I don’t want Dad thinking we’re not going to show.”
“Like he didn’t show up for us?” I wanted to say, but instead I pursed my lips. I knew putting Phil down would only hurt Rob.
“I’m tempted to ask you kids to take me home on the way to the gallery,” I finally said.
“Mom, you promised.”
I rifled through my purse and found my wallet. “I wonder who’ll be there.” I placed my credit card on the table, even though I’d promised myself to pay off the balance before I charged any more.
“You mean Dad’s new girlfriend?” Rob said.
Using my best poker face, I shrugged. “I couldn’t care less about your father’s social life.” The man always had some woman prowling around, but Rob had hinted that this one was something special. I hated that I cared who she was, or what she looked like. I finally convinced myself my interest was mere idle curiosity.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll go, but only to spend time with you.”
Rob pulled open the door of the bustling Vanguard Art Gallery to let me cross the threshold first. I was surprised to see so many people—men in suits, women in evening attire—all conversing merrily as they drifted around the packed room. For one silly moment I wondered if this crowd had gathered to see Phil’s paintings. No way. A renowned artist must be displaying his work here too.
With Rob and Andrea following, I inched my way along the wall.
A man wearing a tuxedo shirt and black slacks glided up to me and offered a tray of champagne. I waved him on. When I turned to speak to Rob, he and Andrea had disappeared into the crowd.
I crept further, expecting to see one of Phil’s unsightly works. But the first painting I came upon was unlike anything I’d ever seen. The artist had depicted a gnarled tree, its limbs dominating the canvas. As I looked closer, I realized the branches were merely frames for bold pieces of sky, the vacant shapes themselves becoming solid forms. Fascinating.
I examined the next painting. A Rubenesque girl reclined upon a bed of grass as she gazed up to a heaven of magical clouds that seemed to float in an endless universe. I stepped back to view the painting better, but couldn’t see over the heads crowding in front of me.
“Hey, Mom.” Rob grabbed my arm. “We found Dad’s exhibit. Come on. You won’t believe it.”
I followed the kids to the next room, and saw Phil, dressed in a neatly ironed shirt and khaki slacks—not his usual attire—standing among a group of sculpted figures.
“Look at these,” Rob said with pride and excitement. “Wait until you see them up close. You’ll love them.”
He was right. The grouping of life-sized bronze statues—three men, two women, and an infant spanning several generations—were quite remarkable. I strolled around the sculptures to view the unusual faces with their whimsical expressions. It was difficult to stop looking. They reminded me of mime actors, ready to burst into action at any moment.
“The old gentleman has so much personality,” I said, making note of his walrus moustache and bushy eyebrows. “And I love the mother and child.” As far as I knew, Phil hadn’t sculpted since we were in school together. I glanced his way to make sure he wasn’t pulling my leg.
“You made these?” I had to ask. I knew the grueling labor required for such a project.
“Yes.” He stood tall, his hands jammed in his pockets. “Honest.”
I reached out to touch the statue of the woman cradling an infant in her arms. My fingers brushed the metal’s burnished surface, and I felt a wave of goose bumps on my arms.
“They’re wonderful,” I said. Marvelous would have been a better adjective.
“Thanks. Coming from you, that means a lot.” As the room’s volume expanded, he stepped closer. “For a long time I couldn’t afford to cast anything. But, with my new job at Microsoft, things are looking good.”
“Way to go, Phil,” said an attractive blonde in a miniskirt as she strutted by.
“Thanks, Val,” he replied, then turned back to me. I hadn’t seen him look so alive in years. Maybe ever.
“I had no idea,” I said. “How long have you been doing these?”
“I started with smaller pieces a few years ago. Pretty scary at first. I mean, I wasn’t sure if they were any good.”
“They’re good, all right,” I assured him. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”
He chuckled, shifting his weight to one leg. “The truth is, I was getting nowhere with my painting—something I don’t need to tell you. I needed a drastic change. When you get to be our age, you want your life to matter. You know, to create art that outlives you—for the next generation.”
I took in his words. For years I’d considered Rob my only legacy.
“Hey, the city just commissioned
