Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
With an agonized roar, I fling her away, and she crashes into the sofa.
“Is that the best you can do, my son?” she asks, without moving from her prone position.
“Get out of my house. And the same goes for you too, Isadora. I never want to lay eyes on either of you again.”
After I hear them leave, I go to the library and pour myself a drink. I am so furious I can feel a muscle ticking in my jaw. As the fiery drink runs down my throat I know. They didn’t come here to ask for forgiveness or to make up. The old witch was right. There is very little time left.
They have come for Autumn.
Chapter 16
Autumn
The next day Larry comes in earlier than usual. I’m still vacuuming the carpet. I switch it off and face him.
“Everything alright?” he asks, looking at me intently through his glasses.
“Yes, everything is fine.”
He looks relieved. “Good. Sorry, I had to run out on you last night.”
I force a smile. “No problems. You missed a great dinner. What was the emergency?”
“Burst pipe,” he lies uncomfortably, a sheepish look on his face.
I’m not going to call him out on his lie. He has been too good to me. As it happens I enjoyed my time with Rocco so no harm done. “Oh, right. Is it all sorted now?”
Now he looks distinctively guilty. “Yeah. It’s all good.”
“I’ll drop Jenna’s dress off at the cleaners at lunchtime and return it once it’s clean with her coat, but I’ve brought Marion’s shoes back and she can pick them up anytime she wants.”
“Yes, okay, I’ll let them know,” he says, obviously disinterested in the turn the conversation has taken. He pauses then adds. “So… it was a good dinner, then? Everything went well?”
“Yes, everything went well.”
“Good. That’s good.” He stands awkwardly in the middle of the room for a few seconds.
I say nothing.
“Well, I guess you’re busy. You have to get ready for tonight’s party.”
“Mmm…”
“Right. I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”
After he goes upstairs I carry on with vacuuming the showroom and wonder what the Count told him to make him leave the restaurant last night, but as I put away the vacuum cleaner the day pounces on me and there is no more time to think.
The florist arrives with the flowers for tonight and I get busy with arranging them around the room. The wine gets delivered and after a while the chairs arrive. I take them out of their stacks and arrange them around the gallery. Afterwards I take the wine glasses out of their boxes, wash and polish them until they shine.
At lunchtime, I drop off the dress at the dry cleaners, then pop into the deli to pick up the trays of finger food I ordered. It’s only five doors away from the gallery, so Ella, the girl who works there, and I walk back carrying the trays of food.
I file away the receipts into the accounts file. A tourist wanders in. Usually, Larry will come down when a customer comes in, but he is on the phone so I deal with the man. To my surprise, I manage to sell him a small sculpture. Feeling proud of myself I run upstairs to tell Larry about the sale.
“This is your second sale. I’ll have to give you a rise,” he says beaming with pleasure.
I clatter back down the stairs and start to open the bottles of red wine. They are good wines and need to breathe. Larry comes down at five thirty and starts spraying the room with his bottles of room fragrances. I retreat to the backroom to allow the aerosols to settle. I use the time to run a brush through my hair and slap on some lipstick.
When the first of the artists and their partners begin to arrive, I remove the coverings from the silver trays of food and start to serve the wine. It is a good night. Most of the artists are too proud to talk to the woman serving the drinks, but I get to hear snippets of their lives, their thoughts about their work, and once I even overheard an artist talking about his secret method of mixing colors. They are great drinkers and after the last dregs of wine are all gone just after eleven o’clock, Larry manages to get them out of the door.
“Want a lift home?” Larry asks.
“Nah, I want to do some cleaning before I leave.”
“Do it in the morning.”
I shake my head. “I have a different routine in the morning.”
He must still be feeling guilty about running out on me last night because he says, “Well, shall I at least help to clear away the bottles?”
“If you stay any longer Marion will start to think we’re having an affair.”
Larry visibly starts and I laugh at the startled expression on his face. It’s obvious the thought has never crossed his mind.