44 Charles Street

Chapter 6

MARYA MOVED IN on Valentine’s Day, and had made delicate wafer-thin heart-shaped gingerbread cookies for all of them before she even unpacked. Chris had been designing a project at the house that day. It was for one of his demanding industrial clients, which was always challenging, and required concentration, and the baking odors drifted up to him, until he could no longer focus on his work, and had to go downstairs to check it out. He found Marya in the kitchen, wearing a plaid apron and humming to herself. Although he had known that she was moving in, he hadn’t met her yet. She turned to him with a broad smile, put down a cookie tray, and shook his hand.

“I’ve never smelled anything so delicious in my entire life!” he said, glancing at the stove. She held out a plate to him, and five of the irresistible cookies vanished instantly and melted in his mouth.

“It’s just an old recipe I dusted off,” she said humbly, and once he was in the kitchen, Chris became aware of other delicious smells as well. She was trying out some new recipes, and making a tried and true one, and thought she’d set some food out for them in case any of them were planning to be home that night. Chris said he was. She invited him to come back later, and help himself to anything he wanted. “It’s so great having all of you to cook for,” she said. She had been so lonely since her husband had died. This was a perfect setup for her, and she was thrilled to be moving in. Her bags were still sitting unopened in her room. She hadn’t been able to resist the lure of the kitchen as soon as she walked in, much to his delight. “I hear you have an enchanting little boy,” Marya said as Chris poured himself a glass of milk from the fridge. He smiled at her words.

“He’s a good boy. I have him every other weekend, and I usually take him out after school on Wednesday nights. He lives with his mom.”

“I can’t wait to meet him.” Marya had no children of her own. It had never happened, and in her late fifties, she was of an era where the many options currently available to deal with infertility hadn’t existed yet. So she and her husband had accepted their lot, and devoted themselves to each other. It made the void in her life that much bigger now that he was gone. Having three roommates at the house on Charles Street was going to make her life a much happier place than the lonely home in Vermont that she still loved. But she wanted to be with people. She was ecstatic about the move to New York, and couldn’t wait to visit museums, restaurants, and friends. She was excited about all of it, and had a cheerful, upbeat attitude about life.

Chris went back upstairs to finish his project, and moments later, Marya met Eileen when she came home from work and went to use the computer in the kitchen to check her e-mail. Eileen could smell Marya’s cooking the moment she opened the front door.

“Wow!” Eileen said as she walked into the kitchen, and found herself looking at Marya. She was a pretty woman, and her slim athletic figure was noticeable even in the apron that she wore. “What smells so good?” She couldn’t tell if it was sweet or savory. Marya had put a chicken in the oven for all of them, was making asparagus, and planned to make a cheese soufflé when they all got home. She had baked a heart-shaped chocolate cake for dessert. It was a Valentine’s Day feast.

“I didn’t know if any of you were eating at home tonight, but I thought I’d take a chance. Valentine’s Day is so much fun.” It was a good excuse for a great meal.

Eileen smiled as she checked her e-mail, and saw that she had a date for that night. It was a first date with a man she’d been e-mailing with for several days. So far she had met some really nice guys, and a few duds. She got rid of the duds very quickly, and had only brought two men home. Francesca was uneasy about it, but hadn’t said anything to Eileen. She didn’t think she had that right. Eileen was an adult, and this was her home, and Francesca couldn’t screen her dates. But having strangers spend the night at the house seemed a little dicey to her. Nothing unpleasant had happened, but since Eileen was meeting them all on the Internet, Francesca was aware that she didn’t know any of her dates well. They were strangers to her too, which seemed risky to Francesca. It was why Internet encounters with men didn’t appeal to Francesca at all. She had been lucky with her roommates, but had checked them carefully through references and credit checks. Screening dates would have been much harder, seemed more dangerous, and she still had no desire to date anyone yet anyway. Todd had moved out only six weeks before. She still missed him, and was trying to get used to the idea that he was gone forever out of her life. And at times it was very hard. She had lost not only the man she loved, but her best friend and business partner, which made it a triple loss. The only other people in her life were the artists she represented. She had worked so hard on establishing her business for the past four years that the only people she saw were either artists or clients, and Todd.

Francesca was the last one to come home from work that night. She closed the gallery at seven, and walked the short distance home. She had sold two small pieces for Valentine’s Day and had been feeling down all afternoon. She had forgotten that Marya was moving in that day, and when she got home, she found all three of her tenants chatting in the kitchen and sharing a bottle of Spanish wine Marya had opened for them. She had brought a few cases of French, Spanish, and Chilean wines with her from Vermont, and they were sampling one of them, and liked it very much.

“Welcome home,” she said to Francesca with a cheerful look. It suddenly boosted her spirits to see all of them. She was dreading coming back to an empty house, and trying to forget that it was Valentine’s Day. Todd had always made a big deal of it, and took her out for a nice dinner every year. She hadn’t heard from him all day, and knew it was just as well, but she was down about it anyway. She smiled happily as Marya handed her a glass of the Spanish wine. Dinner was ready by then. She hadn’t planned to eat, and Eileen said she was going out, but the three of them sat down at the kitchen table, and devoured the delicious dinner that Marya served with ease. The asparagus and hollandaise were irresistible, the cheese soufflé for openers was beyond belief, and the chicken was roasted to perfection with a delicate mushroom stuffing. There was salad and French cheese, and the three of them finished off the chocolate cake as they talked animatedly around the table about food, travels, life experiences, friends. She had just arrived but Marya seemed to bring them all to life, and Francesca hadn’t seen Chris as friendly or as talkative since he moved in. Marya had a magical gift with people and food. Francesca couldn’t believe their luck that she was there, and Marya said that she felt fortunate to be living in Francesca’s house, and greatly blessed. They had so much fun that Eileen nearly forgot her date, and rushed out without changing. She just put on high heels and perfume, waved goodbye, and disappeared, as Francesca, Chris, and Marya sat at the table over the last of the meal. She served coffee, the gingerbread cookies, and truffles afterward. Chris said with conviction that it was the best meal he had ever eaten, and Francesca readily agreed. It was the best Valentine’s Day she had spent in years, even if it was without Todd.

She and Chris helped Marya clean up the kitchen, but Marya had tidied as she went along, and there was surprisingly little mess. Marya went to unpack then, and Chris and Francesca walked slowly up the stairs.

“I was dreading today,” Francesca admitted. “It’s my first Valentine’s Day without the man I bought the house with. It turned out to be a lot of fun tonight, thanks to Marya.”

Chris nodded solemnly, a little more distant now that he was alone with her. He was always very guarded whenever he talked to Francesca or Eileen except when Ian was around. Marya had really brought him out of his shell. And Francesca couldn’t help wondering what had happened to him to make him so withdrawn. She was beginning to think that it wasn’t so much his personality as traumas that had occurred.

“Today was probably hard for Marya too, without her husband,” Francesca commented. “She’s a lovely woman. I’m glad she moved in. Her food is fantastic. We’re all going to get fat if she cooks like that for us every night.” Chris smiled at what she said.

“I think this was just a special event. I haven’t celebrated Valentine’s Day, or even thought about it, for years. It’s for lovers and kids,” and he was neither, although he had talked to Ian that afternoon and sent him a Valentine’s Day card. Ian had a crush on his teacher and a girl in his class, and had sent them both cards, he had told his dad.

They said goodnight to each other outside Chris’s door, which had once been her dining room and library and was now his home. She hadn’t seen the rooms since he moved in and had no reason to, since he was renting them from her. And she walked slowly up the stairs to her bedroom, feeling lonely again. It was inevitable. There was so much hype about that day, if you didn’t have a lover to share it with, it felt like a day of mourning. But Marya had made it a lot easier and happier for her, and she was grateful to her for that.

Francesca heard Eileen come in later that night, and she could tell that she had someone with her, and hoped she was all right. Her trust and innocence about the men she met on the Internet worried Francesca considerably, but they were whispering and laughing as they tiptoed past Francesca’s door, and she saw him in the kitchen over breakfast the next day. Marya had left freshly baked rolls and croissants for them and gone out for a walk. And Eileen’s date of the night before was happily gobbling the croissants and barely said hello to Francesca as she walked in. He looked a little rough around the edges, but Eileen was smiling and seemed happy and young as she giggled at him. Francesca was mildly annoyed to have to deal with him over breakfast, and Chris didn’t look thrilled either as he poured himself a cup of the coffee Marya had made earlier. Mealtimes on Charles Street had become a lot more interesting since Marya moved in.

“How do you all know each other? Are you two a couple?” Eileen’s date asked them as Chris shot him an evil look, poured himself a bowl of cornflakes, and didn’t bother to answer. Francesca just said they were roommates, and let it go at that. The man had several tattoos and had rolled up his sleeves, which exposed his arms. They were in vivid color, and his hair was long. He said he worked in TV, and then explained that he was a grip, and he fondled Eileen’s buttocks openly just as she sat down. Chris almost laughed when he saw the look of disapproval on Francesca’s face. She thought it was a bit much over breakfast among strangers, but Eileen didn’t seem to mind and looked pleased. She kissed him passionately, and he looked like he had his tongue halfway down her throat. His name was Doug. And she had met him on the Internet, of course. It seemed to be her only resource for meeting men, which concerned Francesca. Other people seemed to meet decent men on the Internet, but Eileen appeared to be alarmingly naïve. Doug was still in the kitchen when the others left.

Francesca excused herself and said she had some calls to make from her room, and Chris said he had a client meeting at ten, to present the project he had been working on for weeks. It was finally complete. He had been designing new packaging for a well-known brand. He left the house with his portfolio a few minutes later, and so did Eileen. And by the time Francesca left for the gallery at eleven, she was alone in the house. Marya had gone out too after cleaning up the kitchen when she came back from her walk.

The house was beginning to feel full and busy.

Francesca had arranged for a cleaning service to come twice a week, and they were all sharing the expense, rather than having to clean the house themselves. She was thinking about Eileen as she walked to work in a light February rain, and wondered if they’d be seeing Doug again. She hoped not, and thought he was crude, and a lot less than Eileen deserved. She seemed to be much more interested in quantity and the number of men she could meet, than in quality and narrowing the field to some better guys who were worthy of her. Francesca reminded herself that she was young and still naïve. She would have worried about her a lot if she were a younger sister. As a tenant or roommate, it was none of her business. But her Internet hobby was a little unnerving. It was a whole new world to Francesca, and not one she wanted to explore, although a lot of people were enthused about it and claimed they met nice people that way. It seemed risky to Francesca and she hoped Eileen would slow down a little and be careful in the meantime.

Francesca had a new show to curate and hang at the gallery that afternoon. It was a group show she had been working on for months, for two abstract painters and a sculptor, and she thought their work enhanced one another. It was important to find work that didn’t overshadow or distract from the rest of the show. One of the artists did enormous canvases and it was going to be hard for her to hang them alone. Without Todd to help her hang the shows now, she had asked one of their artists to come in and do it with her if he had time. He worked as an installer for several galleries to make extra money, and he was pleasant and helpful, although vague about time. He had been one of the first artists she signed up and his paintings sold fairly well. And he worked hard and was serious about his art and well trained. For once, he arrived on time, and Francesca figured out where she wanted him to hang the paintings, and he got up on a tall ladder for several hours to adjust the lights once they hung the work. It was after six when they were finished, and they both were tired but pleased with the result. He was ten years younger than she was and a cute guy.

“So where’s Todd these days?” he asked her casually. She had told most of their artists verbally that she had bought him out, but hadn’t sent an official letter to them yet. She hadn’t had the heart. And most of them could figure out that he was no longer around. A few asked her, but most of them had guessed that he was gone when they didn’t see him.

“I bought him out,” Francesca said equally off-handedly. “My father is my business partner now. Todd is practicing law again.” She thought it was all he needed to know, and the artist nodded.

“You two still together?” he asked over his shoulder, as he put the ladder away.

“No, we’re not,” Francesca said, and turned away, embarrassed and saddened by the question. She didn’t know why, but it made her feel like a failure, as though she had been unable to keep him or make it work. She hated feeling that way and wondered if Todd did too.

“I wondered about it. I haven’t seen him around in a long time. Did you sell your house?”

“No, it’s mine now, with three roommates.” It was more information than he needed.

“I’m happy to hear it,” the young artist said with a broad smile. “I’ve been waiting for him to get out of the way for years. How about dinner some night?” He looked hopeful as he asked. He admired Francesca for how hard she worked and how good she was at what she did. She was fiercely dedicated to her artists, and did everything she could to promote their careers.

Francesca took a breath before she answered his invitation to dinner. “I don’t think so, Bob. I’m not so keen on mixing business with pleasure. I’ve never gone out with any of my artists, and I don’t think I should start now.” She tried to look businesslike as she said it, and Bob seemed undaunted.

“There’s always a first time,” he said hopefully.

“Yeah, maybe, but I don’t think so. But thanks anyway. I’m really not ready to start dating yet. It’s kind of a big adjustment after five years.”

“Yeah… I’m sorry…” He looked disappointed and left a few minutes later, and Francesca locked up the gallery and walked home. It was raining harder than it had been that morning, which matched her spirits. It depressed her to think of dating anyone, or sleeping with anyone except Todd, although they had stopped sleeping with each other months before. It was going to be hard getting used to someone new. She just didn’t want to yet. And she walked up the steps of 44 Charles Street, soaked to the skin, and with a heavy heart.

She went straight to her room, without dinner, and cried herself to sleep that night. It told her that she wasn’t over Todd yet, and she wondered how long it would take. Maybe forever.

Francesca felt better in the morning, and she smiled when she walked into the kitchen. It was early, and she thought she’d be alone, but instead she found Marya making pancakes for Ian. They looked like Mickey Mouse, had a cherry for a nose, and raisins for eyes when she put them on his plate. They had just met. It was Saturday, and one of Ian’s weekends with his father.

“Hi, Ian,” Francesca said easily, as though they were old friends. “Pretty cool pancakes, huh?” she asked him, and he nodded with a grin as she smiled at Marya over his head. He was an irresistible child with a big happy smile and wise old eyes.

“Marya’s going to make cookies with me later. Chocolate chip. My mom used to make those with me,” he said carefully. “She doesn’t anymore. She gets sick a lot, and she sleeps all the time. Sometimes she’s still asleep when I get home from school.” The two women exchanged a look but said nothing. Francesca wondered if she had an illness, but she didn’t want to ask.

“I like chocolate chip cookies too,” Francesca added to lighten the moment.

“You can make some with us if you want,” Ian said generously as Chris walked in. “Or we’ll save you some if you have to go to work.”

“I’d love that,” Francesca said warmly, as Eileen walked in with the unattractive Doug, who asked for pancakes too. Francesca was quick to step in. Marya hadn’t been hired as a cook, she was a world-class chef who was doing them a favor and making them a gift by cooking anything for them. She wasn’t a short-order cook there to prepare them breakfast. “We’re doing self-service,” Francesca said quietly, “except for Ian.” Doug looked annoyed, shrugged, and helped himself to a cup of coffee as Marya looked at Francesca gratefully. Chris had taken due note of the scene, and didn’t like Doug either. He was crass and rude, and made it clear to everyone in the room that he and Eileen were sleeping together and when Ian left the room for a few minutes, Doug even intimated that they had had some pretty hot sex the night before. Eileen didn’t seem to mind his saying it, but the others did on her behalf. It was a lack of respect for her that she appeared not to notice or object to.

Oblivious to the scene, Ian happily finished his pancakes and politely thanked Marya when he was through. He then carefully rinsed his dish and put it in the dishwasher. Francesca noticed and wondered if he had to take care of himself if his mother was sick or sleeping all the time. He seemed unusually capable for a child of seven.

They were all still milling around the kitchen when the doorbell rang. Francesca went upstairs to answer, and was horrified to see her mother standing outside, waiting to come in. She was wearing a Chanel running suit and Dior sneakers, her hair was in a ponytail, and she looked beautiful even without makeup, but she was the last person Francesca wanted to see that morning. She had no desire to introduce her to her roommates or listen to her mother’s comments about them after.

“Hi, Mom,” she said hesitantly, not sure what to do. “What are you doing here?” She was hoping she would leave without coming in, but doubted she would. Her mother was too persistent and curious for that.

“I’m trying a new skin doctor in SoHo. I hear she’s fabulous, so I thought I’d drop over before I see her. May I come in?” She looked expectant and imperious, and Francesca stepped aside, feeling like a kid in trouble. She knew her mother would not like the scene in the kitchen.

“Of course,” Francesca said, as her heart sank, thinking of the odd melee of people in her kitchen, and suspected her mother would be shocked, particularly by Doug and his tattoos.

“Something smells delicious,” Thalia commented as Francesca debated between taking her upstairs to her bedroom, with the unmade bed, the living room where there was no place to sit, since she hadn’t gotten around to replacing the couch and chairs Todd had taken, or the kitchen, where all of her roommates were having breakfast. She hated to introduce them to her mother. But Marya had just taken a fresh tray of croissants out of the oven, which provided an irresistible lure toward the kitchen.

“One of my roommates is a famous chef,” Francesca explained as her mother headed down the stairs toward the kitchen without her. Reluctantly, Francesca followed.

Chris was at the kitchen table with his son doing a drawing, Marya was at the stove in her apron holding the fresh batch of croissants, and Doug with all his tattoos visible was wrapped around Eileen like a snake, while she giggled and was still wearing a slightly indiscreet nightgown with her robe hanging open. It was not the scene she wanted to present to her mother. She introduced her to all of them simply as her mother, as Thalia pursed her lips and stared over all of them to Marya. She seemed to be the only civilized person there, in Thalia’s opinion.

“You must be the chef,” Thalia said, looking slightly daunted. The idea of her daughter living with all these people still upset her. And she had instantly noticed Doug and his tattoos and thought him dreadful.

“I am. Would you like breakfast, Mrs. Thayer?” Marya asked kindly. She was slightly startled by the grandeur of Francesca’s mother. Even in a sweatsuit, she looked as though she should be wearing a ball gown.

“I’m not Mrs. Thayer,” Thalia said quickly. “Countess di San Giovane,” she corrected in the accent her late husband had taught her. She only used the Italian pronounciation of her name for state occasions, which this wasn’t. But it was her way of letting them all know that she was much more important than they were. They got the message. Chris glanced at her over Ian’s head, said nothing, and went back to talking to his son. Doug was nuzzling Eileen’s neck, and she couldn’t stop laughing. It was not the dignified welcome Thalia thought worthy of her. Francesca was cringing.

“Of course, Countess,” Marya said politely without batting an eye. “May I offer you some croissants and a cup of coffee?”

“I’d like that very much,” Thalia said, and sat down next to Ian. He looked up at her with interest, and went back to his drawing. And a moment later Marya set the plate of warm croissants and a steaming cup of coffee in front of her. Francesca sat down in the only spare seat at the table, across from her mother, silently dying, wishing she hadn’t come.

The scene went on as it had been when she entered, for a few minutes, and then everyone went about their business. Marya cleaned up the kitchen, Chris went upstairs with Ian, and Doug and Eileen went back to her room, as Doug let them all know on the way out that they were going back to bed. Eileen’s girl-next-door halo was definitely slipping. A moment later only Francesca and her mother were left at the kitchen table as Marya buzzed around.

“I can’t believe you’re living with those people,” Thalia said in horror, and looked as though she were about to burst into tears. “What are you thinking?” she said, ignoring Marya.

“I’m thinking that I need to make my mortgage payments, and they’re all very nice,” Francesca said sternly, as Marya pretended not to hear them and finished the dishes.

“That man with the tattoos?”

“He doesn’t live here. He’s dating the girl who lives upstairs. She teaches autistic children.”

“You’d never know it to look at her,” her mother said with a disapproving look. She wasn’t wrong. Her look had gotten racier as she got comfortable, and her skirts shorter.

“She’s young,” Francesca said, trying to defend her, although she couldn’t stand Doug herself, and was also bothered that Eileen had come downstairs in a nightgown and robe. It was poor judgment and bad taste, but not a crime.

“Everyone gets along very well,” Marya interjected, as she refilled Thalia’s cup with the delicious brew she had brought with her from Vermont. “They’re all very decent,” Marya reassured her, and Thalia looked at her mournfully, relieved to have found a friend and ally among them.

“Doesn’t it upset you too?” Thalia asked her.

“Not at all,” Marya answered. “I’m happy to be here. They’re all very kind young people. I lost my husband a few months ago, and I’m so glad to be here with them, and not alone at home in Vermont.”

“What did he die of?” Thalia’s mother asked with interest.

“A brain tumor. He was sick for a long time. The end was pretty rough. It’s a relief to get away now, and it will be good for me to be in New York.”

“This is a hard town to find a man,” Francesca’s mother said bluntly, and Francesca was shocked and embarrassed, and then laughed. It was all Thalia ever thought of. That and herself. “Especially at our age,” she added, and Marya laughed. Thalia didn’t bother her at all. She had dealt with colleagues with far more imperious ways than Thalia. Many of the chefs she had worked with were notorious divas, and some had been downright nasty to her over the years, mostly out of jealousy or just because they were rotten people.

“I’m not looking for a man,” Marya told her. “I don’t want one. I had the best one there ever was, for thirty-six years. No one else could ever measure up. I just want to have a nice time, do my work, and make some new friends.” Thalia looked as though Marya were speaking in tongues. She was a very attractive woman. Why on earth wouldn’t she want a man? She assumed that she was probably lying. In Thalia’s opinion, every woman wanted a man.

“You’ll probably feel differently about it in a few months,” Thalia said knowingly, and then complimented her on the excellent coffee.

“No, I won’t,” Marya said firmly. “I don’t need a man to be happy. I had a great one, that was good enough. I don’t expect to find another one like him, and why settle for anything less? I’m going to be perfectly content alone.” She looked certain of it, and Thalia stared at her as though she thought she was crazy.

Francesca looked at her watch then. She was meeting a client at the gallery at ten, before they opened, so they would have time to look at paintings in the racks without being disturbed. “I hate to say it, but I have to go, Mom.”

“That’s all right, dear,” her mother said, planted firmly in her chair with no intention of moving. “I can stay and chat with Marya. I still have time before my appointment.”

Marya nodded at Francesca reassuringly, who was looking panicked, and then Marya turned to Thalia. “Countess, would you like another cup of coffee?” She said it as though she were calling her Your Highness, and Thalia smiled.

“Please call me Thalia. I wouldn’t want the young people calling me that, but there’s no reason for you to use my title.” She had decided they were equals, in stature as well as age. “You know, I have two of your cookbooks. I particularly like your recipe for hollandaise. It’s so easy, even I can do it.”

“Thank you, Thalia,” Marya said, beaming, and handed her another plate of croissants.

“I hate to leave you, Mom,” Francesca said uncomfortably, but it was more that she didn’t trust her. She had no idea what she’d say to Marya, or how she would behave. And she didn’t want to offend Marya, who looked totally at ease with her mother.

“Don’t be silly, dear. I’ll call you later.” Thalia had stopped complaining about the other tenants, and Francesca really had to leave. The client she was meeting had been referred to her by a satisfied client. She had never met him before, and she didn’t want to be late.

Francesca gave a last anxious glance at Marya as she left, and hurried up the stairs to get her purse, and a moment later, she was hurrying down the street, thinking about her mother. She was sure she was going to get an earful about all of them at some point, except maybe Marya, whom her mother seemed to like.

At that very moment, the two older women were bonding in the kitchen. Marya was amused by her, but it didn’t show. She could hold her own with people like the countess, and had with people who were infinitely worse.

“You have no idea how I worry about her, especially with this insane arrangement,” Thalia was confiding to Marya. “She should have married Todd instead of buying real estate with him. He would have had to pay her a decent alimony, and she’d own the house free and clear. Living with all these people is just a crazy thing to do.” Thalia looked distressed, and Marya was very calm.

“It seems to be working out very well. Chris is respectable, he seems well educated, and his son is very sweet. And I think the little girl upstairs is just young and a little silly. She’s fresh out of school. She’s all excited about being in the city and meeting men. She’ll calm down.”

“Her friend looks like he’s fresh out of prison,” Thalia said, near tears. For the next hour, Marya reassured her, and by the time Thalia left to see her new skin doctor, she was feeling better. Marya sat in the kitchen for a few minutes, smiling to herself after she left. The Countess di San Giovane was definitely a handful. She couldn’t help wondering how Francesca had managed to be so normal and down to earth with a mother like that. But more than anything, Thalia seemed foolish to her, and most of what they’d talked about was her desperation about finding a man and getting married again. She had confessed shamelessly that without a husband, she didn’t even feel like a woman. Her entire identity was wrapped up in who she was married to. And without that she felt like no one at all. She was the exact opposite of Marya, who was self-respecting, confident, knew exactly who she was, and didn’t depend on anyone for her identity. The two women were as different as black and white. And in Francesca’s opinion, her mother’s obvious obsession with finding another husband had been scaring men away for years.

And at the gallery, Francesca had taken out nearly every painting she had in the racks. She kept a good selection of her artists’ work in stock. The client she was wooing wanted to buy a large painting, he said he had a fondness for emerging artists, but didn’t seem sure of what he liked. And whatever direction Francesca steered him, it didn’t feel right to him. He said he was divorced, and his wife had always selected all their art. He wanted to make a statement of his own now, but had no idea what it should be. He was a fifty-year-old dentist from New Jersey, and Francesca was utterly fed up with him by noon. He seemed to be incapable of making up his mind. He finally promised that he would think about it, and call her the following week if he made a decision. He said he liked everything she had showed him, but he was nervous about buying the wrong thing. It was always frustrating dealing with clients like him.

She handed him photographs and information on all the artists he was interested in, and he looked even more confused, and then he looked up at her.

“You wouldn’t like to talk about it over dinner, would you?” he asked, looking far more interested in her than in her art. But nothing about him appealed to her, she didn’t like him, and she wasn’t in the mood.

“I’m sorry,” she said pleasantly, smiling at him, “I don’t go out with clients.” It was the perfect excuse.

“I haven’t bought anything from you yet. I’m not a client,” he said cleverly. And she’d have much preferred to sell him something than go out with him. She was beginning to wonder if he had looked at the art as a ruse. And if so, he had wasted her time, and his own.

“I’m sorry, I can’t.” She shook her head.

“You have a boyfriend?” he asked, and she hesitated, and decided that a lie was better than the truth. Particularly if it got her out of an awkward spot with him.

“Yes, I do,” she said with a look of innocence.

“That’s too bad,” he said, looking disappointed, and finally made it out the door, much to her relief. She sank down into the chair behind her desk, exhausted by the day halfway through it. Breakfast with her mother, and two hours with an indecisive client who asked her out to dinner was more than she wanted to deal with on any day of the week.

She called Marya to see if she had survived her mother’s grilling, and Marya assured her that she was fine.

“I had a very nice time with your mother. She’s certainly nothing like you.” Marya chuckled. She liked Thalia’s style, despite the fact that she was obviously spoiled, and somewhat eccentric.

“That’s the nicest thing you could have said,” Francesca commented, smiling. “All my life I’ve been terrified I’d wind up like her.”

“Not a chance,” Marya reassured her. “Have a nice day. I’ll see you tonight.” And as Francesca hung up and went to work at her desk, she had the comforting sensation that she had a new friend in Marya.