Picture Perfect Christmas. Melanie Schuster

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СКАЧАТЬ speaking. “We met at a Biedermeier exhibit at the Louvre. Then we kept bumping into each other at different galleries and she took a class that I was teaching and that’s how we became friends. So when you made the generous offer to show my paintings, I needed an assistant and she volunteered to help,” Chastain added.

      “Volunteered? Stalked is more like it. I followed her around, brought her coffee and croissants, and made a pest of myself until she said she would hire me. I had just finished my studies at Sorbonne and I needed a break. So I’m working for a while until I decide whether to get a doctorate or a job,” Mona said cheerfully. “And the only other alternative was to go back to D.C. and be my father’s hostess until I could prove I could support myself, so I am totally happy. I love my dad, but a woman’s got to be on her own sometime,” she added.

      The subject changed when the food arrived. “Are you ready for your interview tomorrow?” David asked.

      Chastain made a little face. “Yes, I am. I’m still not sure why anybody wants to interview me, but I’m game.”

      David had contacts everywhere and Chastain was booked for radio, newspaper and magazine interviews. She’d been interviewed before, when she won the fellowship that sent her to Paris, and in fact had very favorable press coverage while she was there. It was David’s opinion that she was a natural in front of the camera and the microphone, and he told her so.

      “You’re beautiful, brilliant, elegant and thoroughly charming, and anyone who meets you is enriched by the experience. Besides, you’re about to blow up in a major way. It’s called taking the art world by storm. Just relax and get used to it, Chastain.”

      When she was younger, Chastain would have turned purple with embarrassment and used her self-deprecating humor to deflect his words. Now she just thanked him in a low, sultry voice that brought another kick from Mona.

      They finished their meals with pleasant chitchat and Mona and David watched in amazement while Chastain consumed a large serving of peach cobbler. “Where do you put all that food?” Mona said in consternation. “I’m about a dumpling away from Lane Bryant and you pack it in like a sumo wrestler but you weigh less than a runway model. I could hate you, really I could.”

      Chastain gave her spoon a sexy little lick. “Genes, honey. All the Thibodauxes are on the skinny side. We have the metabolisms of a hummingbird. Wait until you meet my family, then you’ll see what I mean. They’re coming up here in a couple of weeks. I hope New York is ready for them because they bring the party with them wherever they go,” she said with a wicked grin.

      “Laissez les bon temps rouler, huh?” David said, chuckling.

      “Oh, we let the good times roll like you’ve never seen in this life,” she assured him.

      She regaled the table with some of the exploits of her uncles and cousins in the French Quarter where she’d grown up and they were all laughing uproariously when the check came for their meal. “I had an unorthodox childhood, but I wouldn’t have traded it for anything,” she said.

      As she and Mona put their coats on while David took care of the check, she realized that she meant every word. There was a time when she wasn’t comfortable with certain aspects of her upbringing, but those days were long past. There was nothing in the world she couldn’t handle now. She could hold her head high and meet anyone in the world on an equal footing. Somewhere along the line, she had grown into her own skin and she liked it. No, she deserved it and she was loving every minute of it.

      Chapter 2

      Chastain stood in the middle of the gallery and looked around in amazement. It was humbling and exhilarating at the same time. All of her works were hung and lit to show every detail of her talent. Everything was ready for the opening and so was she. She was feeling more serene than nervous. She had worked hard for this and she was ready for the next level. David had pulled out all the stops for her showing and she was grateful for his efforts.

      Studio L was huge. The walls were covered in oyster-white wool flannel and the floors were covered in taupe Berber carpet. The walls were moveable and could be arranged in any manner to better display artwork and there were stainless steel pillars for sculptures and other kinds of work. There were seating areas here and there but not too many; David wanted to encourage the flow of foot traffic. Tall potted trees graced the corners and added a jolt of natural color to the neutral palette of the room. In the high ceiling, there was a combination of pinpoint halogen lights and some hand-sculpted fixtures in stainless steel that were a perfect counterpoint to the carefully arranged display lights.

      For the special invitation-only showing, there was a wine bar and a buffet, catered by Melba’s. Any sales from the first week of the showing would go to the continuing restoration of New Orleans, a project that was a passion of Chastain’s. The soft music of a live jazz trio and the quiet hum of David’s highly efficient staff made it all look like a scene in a movie.

      She had to stifle a giggle at the thought. David arrived unobtrusively at her side with a flute of sparkling wine. “What, may I ask, is so funny?”

      “I was picturing a scene in an Audrey Hepburn movie, only I was the star,” she admitted. “Thanks, but I don’t drink, David. Alcohol has had its way with one too many members of the Thibodaux family, so I leave it alone.”

      “And that’s why this is a passionfruit spumante without a drop of alcohol. I told you I pay attention to everything about you,” he said as she took the flute.

      “You’re too good to be true, David. Everything looks beautiful, don’t you think?”

      “I think you look beautiful,” he replied, caressing her face with his dark eyes. “That ensemble is amazing,” he added.

      Chastain smoothed the supple silk fabric over her hip. She was wearing a lustrous gold knee-length dress with a layered drape that began at the right side of the waist. The dress’s strapless bodice fit her perfectly, showing off her tiny waist and the straight skirt had a slit up the back that allowed her to walk easily in her three-inch slingback gold heels. Her necklace was made of amber, citrines and topaz set in gold wire arranged in an abstract pattern, and her matching earrings were twisted wires with citrine and goldstone beads.

      “Who’s the designer?” he asked. “There’ll be a lot of reporters here tonight and someone is bound to ask.”

      “The dress is vintage Dior. I got it at this fabulous flea market in Paris. And the jewelry is my design,” she said, fingering the smooth stones. “I made it.”

      “I told you we should have put some jewelry in the show,” David said. “Women will go wild for that.”

      Chastain shrugged. “I don’t have enough pieces yet. I only started making jewelry recently and I’m still experimenting. Besides, I think there’s enough on display, don’t you?”

      “I’d say there’s just the right amount. I have a feeling those nudes are going to get a lot of attention,” he said, and they both turned to the centerpiece of the exhibit. Three life-size oil paintings were displayed in the center of the room. They were amazingly lifelike. In fact, the viewer had to get very close to see that they weren’t photographs. All three were of the same model, a man with well-defined muscles who exuded raw sexuality. In one portrait he was bathing, in one he was standing on a balcony and in the third, he was making love to a very lucky woman. The mystery of the pictures was the absence of a clear view of his full face. There was just enough to mesmerize the viewer into a private fantasy about the subject.

      “I СКАЧАТЬ