Part 3 (2/2)
”You're right, with the weather turning colder, they'll all be looking for a warm place to stay.”
I chuckled. ”The little guy yanked out the plug to the timer with all that running back and forth trying to find a way out. I'm sure that's what happened. But it might have starved to death if it didn't. I probably wouldn't have gone back over there for a while.” This wasn't exactly true, of course. I don't think Trevor realized how often I actually did visit the house.
I glanced at the clock on the dashboard and saw it was a quarter to nine. In another fifteen minutes we would be in Aspen.
”How do you want to work this?” he asked. ”Do you want to go with me and look for the skis first, or should I come with you to the art thing?”
I knew by the way he said ”art thing” that he wasn't interested in joining me, and I'd counted on that reaction.
”No, you don't have to go to the art fair. You'll be bored after a while, and I know you're anxious to look for the skis. Let's meet somewhere if you want, for lunch, see what we've accomplished.”
”Okay, leave your cell phone on and I'll get in touch.”
I nodded.
Trevor dropped me off a block from the fair, situated between Galena and Mill Street in the open air Aspen Mall. Because of the crowds, he'd park the car farther out, then walk back in.
I was in a better mood as soon as I joined the people filling the streets. Obviously, the event was going well, and I looked forward to losing myself for a while admiring the work of local artists and those more renowned. I loved Aspen. Though it had changed over the years and become a playground and haven for the super rich, it had still retained its charm. The Elk Mountains, the majestic backdrop for it all, inspired awe and also a sense of serenity. Standing in this valley town, surrounded by mountains on all sides, you felt protected and yet aware of how small and fragile you actually were, how insignificant your existence in the overall scheme of things. These wise old mountains pa.s.sively watched as centuries slipped by, looked on as we humans triumphed and failed, loved and hated. They didn't take sides and they didn't judge. And with any luck, they'd still be around when the sun sputtered and blinked out forever.
As I stood on the sidewalk, the sun slid from behind a bank of clouds and poured over the street. Colorful tents dotted the mall, protection in the event of bad weather, though a majority of the artists had ignored the risks and displayed their work out in the open.
I'd dressed casually in a lightweight ski jacket, jeans, and comfortable hiking boots, knowing I would be on my feet for most of the day. If I found artwork that particularly interested me, I planned to buy it and take it with me, or have it delivered later. I could have displayed my own paintings here, but with the show coming up next weekend, it would have been too much.
I decided to walk the length of the fair and determine its scope before concentrating on any one artist. And though I tried to convince myself that I wasn't looking for anyone in particular, I did study the faces of everyone who pa.s.sed me on the street, knowing Josh would look a little different now without the beard.
I traveled down Mill to Cooper, back to Mill and over to Hyman, then back to Mill. I saw several places I would have liked to stop, some sculpture I admired, some beautiful pottery, some oils and watercolors bordering on unbelievable, but rushed by them all.
Finally, I came to a halt, pedestrians pa.s.sing by me on both sides. Chances are I wouldn't find Josh like this anyway, running back and forth like a mouse caught in a maze, so I might as well stop and focus on the art. Josh would probably call anyway. After all, he'd asked Caroline for my number.
I walked through a tent displaying the portraits of Jean LaRoche, luxuriant oils already catching the attention of the larger art world, and the artist was only twenty-two. This young man was definitely going somewhere. The price of his work would probably shoot up in the near future, and I wanted to own at least one. Jean LaRoche himself was not present at the art fair, and that added to the mystique, but he could afford to be elusive.
I stood before a LaRoche I'd seen in a flyer that had been sent with the information I'd received advertising the art fair. No prices appeared on the painting itself. The portrait was of a small boy, dark-skinned, no more than two years old, and naked. His hands pulled at some weed in the dry earth, and I could tell somehow that he was hungry, though his body didn't appear to be starved. It was completely lifelike. I could almost feel his struggle, and it touched me. I decided to buy it.
”I'm sorry to disappoint you,” said the pierced-eared young man in charge, ”but we already have a buyer. I was just about to place a sold sign on it.”
My shoulders slumped. I'd already imagined myself hanging the painting in my studio, proud to finally own such an extraordinary LaRoche.
”Well, what are the odds?”
I swiftly turned around, recognizing the voice in an instant. ”Josh,” I exclaimed, wanting to hug him, but knowing I no longer had the right.
He was dressed in a sport coat, his s.h.i.+rt open at the collar, looking handsome and cultured and younger than I remembered, though he was a few months older than I was. His blond hair seemed lighter, bleached, I supposed, by all that California sun, and his face was clean-shaven as Caroline had mentioned. I studied the square jaw line and chin that had matured since I'd known him as a child, and the playful brown eyes that smiled back at me now.
”I should have known you'd want it too,” he said, nodding toward the painting I'd just tried to purchase.
I shook my head. ”I did, but at least I know it sold to someone who will treasure it as much as I would have. Caroline told me she saw you here. How are you, Josh?”
”Not bad.” He rubbed his chin, his smile sincere.
”You shaved your beard.”
”I did. A mistake or an improvement?”
”Not a mistake, but the beard was good too.”
”It made me look older, and I'm old enough now that I can afford to look younger, if that makes any sense.”
I laughed. ”It does.”
He began to stroll down the aisle, and I followed alongside him. It felt so natural to be there, as if it hadn't been two years since I'd seen him last. ”So, how's your business?”
”Good, considering the economy. Actually, I have more work than I need, pays to specialize I guess. But what I really need is a vacation, so that's why I'm here. I decided to come down and visit some of my old friends, see the relatives.”
”How are they? How's your mother?”
”Better ... now. Mom had a stroke a few months ago, and we were very worried, but she's doing okay. She'll make a full recovery. Fortunately, my sister recognized the symptoms, got her over to the hospital right away. They were able to give her a clot-busting drug before any major damage was done.”
”Thank G.o.d.”
”Yes.”
He stopped to point at another LaRoche, a pregnant young woman staking a tomato plant in an urban garden. ”I like this one too,” he said, ”probably less expensive than the other one, though I could be wrong. What do you think?”
”It's wonderful. They all are.”
He nodded at me and we walked on.
We left the tent and for the next two hours slowly meandered through the mall. It was enough just to be near him again, talking, laughing. I carefully avoided any subject too personal, and so did he. Instead, we simply enjoyed each other's company, comparing notes on the artists' talents.
Finally, he looked at his watch and then at me. ”I'm hungry,” he said. ”Can I buy you lunch?”
I couldn't refuse. I just couldn't. If I did, I knew he would take it as his cue to leave, and I didn't want him to. I didn't want this happy feeling to end. Josh had forgiven me. Josh didn't hate me anymore. Josh still cared about me. I didn't deserve it, but he did. I could tell by the way he placed his hand lightly under my elbow as we walked along, by the way he wouldn't leave my side when I stopped briefly to unzip my jacket. And I could feel him watching me when I turned to examine a piece of pottery, or trace my fingers along the edge of a frame. How entirely ridiculous to think he could have ever been with my sister. From the time Josh and I were small, I'd known that I occupied a very special place in his heart. He could never betray me. Josh could never hurt anyone.
He decided on a cafe a good two blocks from the mall. We still had to wait in line, but the time zipped by. Once we were given a seat and had ordered, I excused myself and found the restroom, then hurriedly checked the messages on my phone. I'd discreetly turned down the volume so that it wouldn't ring, knowing I'd make my excuses later. And, of course, Trevor had called-twice-and the familiar trust in his voice made me feel even more guilty. I dialed his cell phone from inside the bathroom stall.
”So why didn't you call back?” he asked, his annoyance coming through loud and clear.
”I'm sorry. I didn't hear it ring. I guess the volume was down or something. I just checked.”
”Well, I need a break so why don't we meet over at the Chalet, unless you have a better idea.”
”Now?”
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