So, she thought with the first flicker of relief, it wasn’t going to be so awful. People weren’t sorting themselves out into his friends and hers with an obvious chasm in between. Maybe she’d been right all along. She allowed herself a small, triumphant smirk before going to introduce herself to the artist. She seemed like a likely person to begin with. They would at least have art in common.
She had barely given her name when the artist’s heavily made-up dark brown eyes widened to the size of a Kewpie doll’s. “So you are the one. I’m so glad to finally meet you. I’m Theresa. Paul tells me he brought you to see some of my work.”
An unfortunate image of auto parts entwined with clocks came to mind. Tongue-tied with astonishment, Gabrielle stared at her. “Yes,” she said finally. “It was…”
Theresa laughed. “Don’t bother trying to be polite. My work falls into that love it or hate it category. Maybe if I did something a little more mainstream, I wouldn’t be broke all the time.” She shrugged indifferently. “What’s money, though, as long as I have my artistic integrity intact?”
“Money pays the bills,” the owner of the Norma Kamali outfit said. “Maybe you should just marry wealth the way I did. I can paint what I want without worrying about critical or popular success.”
“Don’t pay any attention to all that cynical talk,” Theresa said. “Maureen is also crazy in love with the man in spite of his millions and her work is now selling for $2500 a canvas. By the way, Gabrielle, Paul was telling us you’re responsible for the decor in here. It’s fantastic. You have a real eye for color and proportion.”
Gabrielle tried to survey the room with an objective eye. It was better than before, but hardly the stuff of an interior designer’s dreams.
“I’m glad you like it,” she said cautiously, wondering how much simple politeness had contributed to the compliment.
“I do. Did it cost a fortune? I know I’m being terribly nosy, but when you’ve lived in a dump like mine, this looks wonderful. I’d give anything to have my place fixed up like this, but most of my money goes right back into art supplies.”
“Actually, I did this on half a shoestring.”
Maureen looked surprisingly impressed. “How? I just paid a fortune to an interior designer and the results aren’t half as interesting. My apartment looks exactly like twenty others on the Upper West Side.”
Basking in the apparent enthusiasm, Gabrielle described her forays through the secondhand stores and fabric shops. “Actually, it was fun. I refinished the furniture myself. It’s not exactly professional caliber work, but there’s a sense of adventure in discovering what’s under all the grime.”
“It looks great to me,” Theresa said enthusiastically. “I don’t suppose you’d like to take on a client. You’d have to work with a pretty limited budget and we’d have to negotiate your commission, but I’d love to see what you could do with my place.”
The idea intrigued her. “What exactly would you need to have done?”
“Everything,” Maureen said fervently before Theresa could respond. “How an artist can live in that dreary place is beyond me. I’d be painting in black and gray. Come to think of it maybe that does explain your sculpture.”
“Very funny. As you can see, Gabrielle, I do need help. Paul volunteered to come over sometime and help me paint, but I haven’t even had time to pick out a color scheme.”
“Thank God,” Maureen said. “Her idea of subtlety is purple and orange.”
Gabrielle laughed. “I suppose I could take a look at your place and see if I get any ideas. I wouldn’t want to charge you for it, though. I have some time right now and I enjoy digging around for bargains.”
“Oh, no,” Theresa said. “This is business. Don’t sell yourself short. Turning an empty space into a warm, inviting home is a talent. I insist on paying you for it.”
Just then Jeff came over. She introduced him to the two women, then after a promise to call Theresa about the decorating, she began circulating, checking the food, greeting newcomers. She finally made her way to Paul, who was chatting enthusiastically with Ted and Kathy. To her surprise they were discussing the construction of the apartments. Ted was amazingly knowledgeable.
“I was just telling Paul that Kathy and I have been looking for a place just this size,” Ted said, after giving her a kiss. “We want to move before the baby comes.”
“But you have a wonderful apartment,” she protested. Paul’s arm settled around her shoulders. She was surprised at how right the gesture felt and how casually Paul had made it. Perhaps he was beginning to relax with the success of the evening, too. She glanced at Ted, trying to judge his reaction, but he seemed far more interested in examining the quality of the woodwork.
“A wonderful, expensive, small apartment,” Kathy corrected, rubbing her hand over her expanding belly. “It’s not big enough for us and the baby. I’m not going to be working for at least a few months after the baby is born and with the market slow right now, we don’t want to get in over our heads financially.”
“You could rent one of these, if you’re interested,” Paul said. Gabrielle stared at him in astonishment. The second and third floor were already rented. The tenants were moving in December first. The only empty apartment was Paul’s on the ground floor. He’d intended to move in next week. They hadn’t discussed what their living arrangements would be after that. This was the first indication she’d had that Paul
