CHAPTER 7
errick finally freed himself from Tony — not an easy thing to do when Tony wanted to chat — and hurried back to the sidewalk. ItD was minutes before seven o’clock, and he knew Minnette would be eager to move on.
When he stepped outside, she was not in front of the book shop where he had left her. He looked down the sidewalk. No Minnette.
Then, looking toward the fountain, he saw them: the old man and the attentive face of his young wife, already absorbed in a conversation entirely their own. The moment had the elements of a storybook: stately oak, gleam of water, pastel hues of springtime, spectral sunlight.
Derrick remained where he was and stood out of sight — not that either of them was looking around at the moment — and watched them intently from the thirty or so yards that separated them. After a few moments, he walked inconspicuously to the median and sat on the bench across the fountain from them. From there he continued to observe them through the cascade of water, convinced that whatever else the old man might be, he was not a danger.
“So, why am I doing this? Yes, it is a fair question. I have never done something quite like this before.”
Theo laughed inaudibly to himself, at himself. His smile widened; the lines around his eyes multiplied and deepened as he looked at Minnette.
“And I don’t know that I can tell you exactly how the idea occurred to me or why. When I saw all the faces there on the wall — I looked at them for hours — I felt something for them, as if I knew all of you somehow or wanted to know you. A good artist can make one do that, you know? The display is beautiful, of course — I’m sure you’ve seen it, yes? — but the portraits, at least to me, all seemed to belong somewhere else. Not on the wall of a coffee shop, at least not for long. I intend to buy all of them one by one and send them to their homes.”
He paused and looked at his hands, at the wrapped portrait.
Minnette said nothing, so he continued, his voice barely audible above the street noise and fountain. “Well, honestly, I was surprised that so many of the portraits had not yet been bought by their rightful owners, ones like you. Or at least by someone who loves you.”
Minnette nodded, smirked, and rolled her eyes. “Funny you should say that. My husband was supposed to buy mine weeks ago, but he kept putting it off. It is very nice of you to do this. I was a bit suspicious when I first got your letter.”
Theo nodded. “I’m not surprised by that at all, and I am happy for your bravery. Maybe this is a way for me to make some friends here in
Golden.”
“You said in your letter that you’re a newcomer here. Are you here to stay? Do you have family here?”
The old man paused and squinted with a tilt of the head. ”I’m not so sure. But I’m happy to be here for now, and I like the town very much.
Have you lived here all your life?”
It would occur to Minnette later that Theo had artfully evaded her inquiry and somehow kept the conversation focused on her. He was a flurry of questions, all very appropriate and asked in a tone of genuine interest. His eyes were fixed on hers, unwandering, and he leaned toward her in a way that suggested total presence. She told him briefly of her childhood and education, her work as an accountant, her marriage five years ago to her high school sweetheart, and a bit about her life in the community. Her answers were general but enough to paint a picture of her world.
Theo condensed it into a simple summary. “Your life seems like a very happy story, yes?”
Minnette answered hesitantly. “I suppose so. Not perfect, but mostly . . . pretty happy.”
Theo sensed there was a longer, truer answer. Her voice was tinged with regret but he dared not pry. He would take only what she offered.
“So, Mr. Theo, have you given any other portraits away?”
“My dear, you are the first.” A broad smile covered his face.
“Really? Well, I’m honored. But why me? Why did you choose this one first?”
Theo nodded, gratified by a confidence that seemed, in so short a time, to exist between them.
“Yes, why you?” He took a slow, thoughtful inhalation. “Well, two things. When I looked at all the faces in the gallery and had the idea to find their owners, I thought it would be good to choose the kindest face among them, the gentlest of them all, and give that one first. I didn’t know how my idea might be received, so I asked myself, who looks most likely to humor an old man with a silly idea? There are many kind faces there, you know, but this one,” Theo pointed to the wrapped portrait and then to Minnette, “this one was the kindest. I hoped to begin with someone who seemed forgiving in case I am making a
mistake. So that is one reason.”
Minnette held her peace, but her eyes glistened and filled. The kindest face among them?
Everything about the moment caught her by surprise: the reverence with which the old man spoke of her, the gentleness of his voice, the generosity of his assessment. Does he really see that in me?
“But there was another reason. I am almost embarrassed to tell you.
Shall I?”
She nodded.
Theo removed the paper from Minnette’s portrait and held it upright on his knees.
“There is something in these eyes that remind me of a girl I knew many years ago, long before you were born. A girl I knew in Spain. I loved her very much, but I was a foolish young man, and I lost her. She was very beautiful, very intelligent, and very brave. It has been a long time, more than half a century, but still, after all these years, I have never forgotten her, and when I saw your eyes, all this,” Theo moved his fingers tenderly across the portrait, in a caress, on the eyelids, the brow, the cheekbone, “I was reminded of her. And I was so pleased to recall that memory.”
Theo chuckled. “Does it embarrass you to hear an old man who you barely know talking about being in love? I should bite my tongue. But even old men have young memories.”
“No, no, please, tell me more.” Minnette laughed. “I mean, it is rather embarrassing — not really, I’m teasing — but tell me more.”
And so, he did, willing to tell only the truth but not all the truth.
“Well, the girl. She cared for every living thing and for people in the most simple ways. We would go to the park to feed the birds, and she would bring sweets for the children. Oh, how she loved the children.
And oh, how the children loved her. She would tell them stories and sing to them. You could look in her eyes, and you could see all love and kindness there.”
Theo paused. His eyes went distant, and the light in them dimmed ever so slightly. “I don’t know for certain, but I think her father was a difficult man. I never met him, but I think he was very much brain and not very much heart.”
Minnette’s smile faded, and her eyes narrowed with total attention to the story Theo was telling.
“You see, he wanted her to be a business person, even before women were so much in business, to help run his company and to make lots of money. She wanted to be a hundred things other than that. A mother.
An artist. A gardener. She was his only child, and she felt she would never, could never, be what he had wanted of her. She saw only what her father saw, a girl who cared for stupid things. She felt it. She told me so.
“. . . But my, she was a beautiful girl, a wonderful soul. And when I saw your eyes and your face, Minnette, I saw her. So, I chose you. How could I not?”
Theo paused, his gaze fixed on the portrait. He tapped it with his
finger.
“There is strength in this face.”
He paused again. “And bravery.”
Another pause. “And kindness. . . . Yes.”
And then, a bit more softly, “And sadness. The good kind. It is all there.”
Minnette looked at her portrait in the frame but was clearly lost in
thought. She swallowed.
“So, you see sadness?”
Theo gave a small nod of affirmation and grimaced slightly. “The face belongs to one who has suffered loss. That is what I thought when I first saw it. But perhaps I am mistaken. I hope I’m wrong.”
When he turned to look at Minnette, thinking perhaps it was time to find another subject of conversation, he saw that her eyes were pooling with tears.
“Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”
“It’s OK, Mr. Theo. I didn’t know it was so obvious. But . . .” Her voice broke. Theo remained silent and gave her time to catch her breath. Finally, she spoke again. “The portrait is telling you the truth.
Well, sort of. I don’t know that there is any strength or bravery or kindness, but there is sadness in that face. It has been there for a long time, and it seems to get deeper and deeper. It doesn’t really make any sense, and it seems so stupid.”
Theo shook his head. “No, my dear. Sadness might be many things, but it is rarely stupid. The good sadness, I think, is always trying to tell us something very important.”
Minnette let that thought settle in her mind. Was it possible that, so quickly, the innocent exchange of a portrait, an unexpected gift, had opened the hearts of two total strangers to one another, across generations and backgrounds and homelands? That she would bare her soul to an old man whom she had known for only a matter of minutes?
That she, the girl who never cried, would do so now?
“When I was a little girl, my parents split up. I was too young to know what was going on, but I’ve heard it was pretty ugly. I come from a long line of blue blood. Do you know that term? It means we’ve been here a long time, respectable, connected, all that. When my parents’ battle was over, my mother moved to Europe, and I’ve hardly seen her since then. And my father is a very, very difficult man.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Being a dad is not his forte. He’s all money, all the time. He still lives here, and I still see him occasionally, and we sort of talk, but it’s all business stuff. Very transactional. You’ve said more fatherly things to me in a half hour than he’s said to me my whole life.”
She paused and took a calming breath. “But I was really fortunate. I was raised here in Golden by my grandmother and grandfather, on my dad’s side, not too far from here, down in the Boughery District.
They’ve both passed away, but I was very close to my grandmother. I called her ‘Gammy.’ She was a saint, sort of like the woman you loved in Spain. She enjoyed books and flowers and birds. She surrounded me with those things. I didn’t have any brothers or sisters, so she was my whole world in some ways. She took me to school in the mornings, helped me with homework, taught me to cook, and said prayers with me at bedtime. I had a really good childhood even though I knew it was not like everybody else’s. Growing up with Gammy was a gift to me, the unintended blessing of my busted home.
“I was a really good student growing up, all because of Gammy. But no matter how good I did, my father pushed for more. I had to excel, to be better than everybody else. And for reasons I’ll never understand, I always wanted to please him.”
Minnette paused and waved dismissively. “Mr. Theo, I’m sorry. I know you didn’t come here for this.”
“Oh, no. Please, my dear. I came here precisely for this.” He looked squarely into Minnette’s face. “Since I bought your portrait, I have looked at it over and over and I have wondered, ‘What is she like?
What is her story? What is really in her eyes?’ Please go on. Have you time?”
It dawned on Minnette that Derrick was supposed to have been a part of this meeting and that they had planned on dinner afterwards.
She was certain he must be somewhere nearby and was keeping his distance as a matter of choice. She would thank him later.
“So, I became really good at living up to people’s expectations of me.
Too good. I was valedictorian, summa cum laude, president of this and that, homecoming court, debutante, a regular approval junkie. And now I’m a junior partner in a respectable Big Four accounting firm in a job I can barely stand. If I give them sixty hours a week until I’m old, I’ll be a partner someday. And my father is still disappointed I’m not a doctor. But you know what I really want, Mr. Theo? . . . Don’t laugh.”
The expression on Theo’s face made it clear he would not take her words lightly.
“More than anything else in the world, I want to be a mom. I’ve always wanted that.” She let the words sink in, as if expecting a reply, a platitude, maybe even a rebuke. Theo merely nodded, as if to affirm the sanity and beauty of her desire.
“Crazy, right? I know it would be a major change, especially for somebody who’s spent her whole life trying to impress others, and I know I probably romanticize the whole motherhood thing in my mind, but still, I want to give a child what Gammy gave me. I want to be like her. Just a housewife. At least for enough years to grow a family. That sounds insane, doesn’t it? Housewife. A psychologist would have a heyday with me. Here I am, the daughter of the world’s worst father and mother, and I want more than anything else to have a child and be a mom and take care of a life.
“So . . . the sadness. I think there was already a lot from my childhood, but, years ago, when my husband and I were dating in college, I got pregnant. He was in law school, and I was studying accounting. I was afraid and confused at first but sort of excited too. I made the mistake of going to my father for advice. I knew better, but Gammy was already sick with Alzheimer’s, so I didn’t want to trouble her. I told my dad I was going to drop out of school and marry Derrick.
We knew we were going to get married someday anyway. My father went berserk, called me some terrible names, reminded me of all the hard work and sacrifice he’d made for me, and told me to the penny
how much my college was costing him. He said I could have a ‘damn kid’ later on, anytime I wanted. He said I’d be letting everybody down, even Gammy, if I let one stupid mistake get in the way of my future.
And of course,” Minnette’s tone turned sarcastic, “I’d be a disgrace to the family name. It was quite the speech. Like I say, he’s not a very touchy-feely sort of man. Purely pragmatic. And for some reason, I gave in.”
A short, dense silence followed. Finally, Minnette turned toward Theo.
“So much for strength and bravery.” Then another pause.
“So much for kindness.”
She gazed vacantly at her portrait, shook her head almost imperceptibly, and then continued. “I made my dear old dad proud.
Miss Pragmatic. Career first. I’ve kept the sad part of my life a well- hidden secret, but I’ve hated myself a little bit every day since then. I know I shouldn’t let it bother me or feel all this hurt and shame . . .”
Minnette paused. Her eyes filled.
“So, Mr. Theo, that might be the sadness you see.”
Minnette closed her eyes and bowed her head, then leaned into Theo’s shoulder.
Derrick watched, spellbound, from across the fountain. He resisted the impulse to make sure she was alright, sensing she would not want him there.
After a long minute, Minnette sat up and wiped her cheek with the back of her hand.
“Oh, Mr. Theo. My god, I don’t know what I’m thinking. I’m so sorry. I’ve never told this to anyone before. Only my husband and one other person know what I just told you.”
Theo took her hand. ”I’m honored. And I give you my promise: Your words are safe with me. I don’t have many virtues, but I am good, one of the very best, at keeping secrets.” (He might have added “at living a secret.”) A tear ran down Minnette’s cheek. “Oh my gosh. What’s going on with me? Accountants aren’t supposed to cry.”
They both laughed — a welcome relief — and sat quietly for a moment. Minnette took a deep breath, relaxed her shoulders and shook
her head like someone coming out of a trance. And then, with a detectable lightness of voice and grin on her face, she turned to the old man.
“Theo, on an entirely different note, get this. You might be interested in knowing my father’s name. His first name is Pearce. His last name is Glissen. Pearce Glissen.”
Theo squinted, his brow furrowed. There was something familiar about the name, but what?
“My dad is the brother of the artist who did this portrait. Asher Glissen and Pearce Glissen. The artist is my Uncle Asher. No two brothers in the history of the world could be more different than they are. I still can’t believe they both came from Gammy.”
Theo droned a long ‘so-o-o’ as he processed Minnette’s revelation.
“So, Asher the artist and Pearce, your dad, are brothers. And their mother, Gammy, raised you. My, my. So, you must know the artist quite well.”
“I know him very, very well. Much better than I know my own dad.
And I adore my Uncle Asher.”
“And I’m sure you have seen your uncle’s portraits many times before?”
“Of course. All my life, I’ve seen his work. I spent lots of time with him and Aunt Brooke — that’s his wife — when I was growing up.
They have one daughter too. Samantha. I call her ‘Sam.’ We practically grew up together.”
“Minnette, I’m curious, why did you come here this evening? I think Mr. Asher might have given you the portrait if you’d asked.”
She nodded. “I’m sure he would have. But for once I wanted to do something brave.”
They continued talking, mostly Theo asking questions and Minnette answering. About CPA work. About Golden. About Uncle Asher. About Gammy. He finally apologized for keeping her so long and thanked her for welcoming him to the city.
And then, with a touch of the theatrical but in a voice heard only by her, he held out the portrait and declared, “Mrs. Minnette Glissen Prentiss, before I go, I remind you, this face belongs to one who is strong and brave and kind. It belongs to one who is capable of
saintliness. You, my dear, are Gammy’s pride and joy, the gold of Golden, the wine of the Chalice, and, for an old man new to your town, a great blessing. I present to you this, the portrait of St. Minnette.”
He bowed his head ceremoniously and handed her the picture. “My dear . . . for you.” The hint of a laugh bore witness to a man whose heart was full.
Minette nodded in reply to his bow and accepted the gift. She was surprised by a faint quiver of her lips when she attempted to thank him.
The evening had eased through twilight into early darkness. The old man’s wish had been fulfilled, the suspicions of the young woman had been put to rest, the gift had been given.
When Theo asked if he might walk Minnette to her car or wherever she needed to go, she thanked him but declined the offer, telling him that she wanted to sit by the fountain a while longer. Had she been thinking more clearly at that moment, she might have asked him to join her and Derrick for supper. She might have asked him for an address or phone number or even his full name. But none of that occurred to her.
With awareness that their conversation and first meeting were drawing to a close, Theo made a request. “Minnette, please do thank your uncle for me. Perhaps I will meet him, too, someday. Tell him he has the great admiration and respect of an old man from Portugal.”
Portugal? Minnette realized she knew next to nothing about her benefactor. If asked later to describe him, she would only be able to say he was a gracious old man, interesting, attentive, and inquisitive. And, at least once upon a time, in love.
“And please thank Mr. Prentiss for me as well. Goodnight, my dear.”
He put on his hat and turned to go.
After he had taken a few steps, Minnette called his name.
He turned.
“You are an exquisitely handsome eighty-six-year-old man.”
He smiled, tipped his hat, and walked away.
Minnette remained seated, held the portrait to her chest with folded arms, and stared into the waters of the fountain. Derrick, deeply curious about what he had just witnessed, had the instinctive presence
of mind to let her sit alone a while longer. Stillness came hard for her — another byproduct of being raised to value efficiency and achievement as supreme virtues — but she seemed at rest, childlike and unhurried, even as the Promenade busied itself around her.
When she finally looked around and spotted Derrick, she waved him over.
They sat silently. She took a deep breath, pulled his arm around her, leaned into his shoulder, and felt her eyes become teary for reasons she could not possibly put into words. She would tell Derrick all about the bestowal later. For now, she simply whispered, “I’m glad you didn’t buy the portrait.”
In the following days, they lived in a slightly altered state of mind, as if having been visited by a vision or a spirit. They could have told others what had happened — ”we met the most unusual old man the other day” — but they never did, for fear that doing so would be a violation of something sacred.
They would, however, tell their children about it someday.
They hung the picture in the bedroom, at the place where Minnette often stood to dress in the mornings. Had anyone walked in at the right moment and listened carefully, they might have heard her whisper, “Good morning, St. Minnette. You are strong. And you are brave. And you are kind. Even when you are sad.”
