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SIOBHAN
On Thursday evening, I pulled into the parking lot of the medical complex, outside Suite 12B, home of Snug Harbor Physical Therapy and Rehabilitation. While I waited in my van, I thought back over my conversation with Paige during the afternoon. The woman sure knew her stuff! My head still swam with figures and projections and graphics. The upshot, sad to say, was I’d be giving up my pretty studio on Main Street in the new year. Although, Paige was adamant that I not give the listing to Bernard Devaux.
“His commission will eat too deep into your profit margin for my comfort. I suggest we use Ari Blanchard at Premiere Commercial Realtors. Because he’s a Snuggie, he’s got a good sense of the area, a better relationship with local property owners, and a great eye for the details his customers may not even realize they need to pay attention to.”
I’d gone to high school with Ari, though he was a few years older. I’m pretty certain he played bass in Jimmy’s band for a while back in the day. I remembered him as funny and smart. More importantly, I couldn’t recall him ever calling me Barf Bag, so I readily agreed to hire him for my real estate transactions.
The thought of giving up my site still hurt, but as Jimmy had told me on Monday, “Your studio is a bunch of lumber and brick. You are the heart of Photos by Siobhan. You could work out of your van and still get stunning, one-of-a-kind results. Your customers appreciate you, not your location.”
I wasn’t a hundred percent sure I agreed, but add in Mrs. Birdsong’s praise about my unique perspective, and I felt that maybe, a slim possibility existed that I could survive. Yesterday, Nana had suggested I consider converting the garage into a darkroom. With her moving into Lou’s house come New Year’s Eve—yes, her star chart approved the date—I’d have the space available without sacrificing room in the house. Thank God I’d run the feasibility of such a concept past Paige.
She had advised me to slow down. “Let’s see how much capital you’ll have to work with before we spend it.”
The door to the medical suite opened, and Jimmy inched out, taking care on the icy sidewalk. I hit the unlock button on my van door to let him in out of the cold. Tuesday’s blizzard had left us with over a foot of snow on the ground, and mountains took up space in parking lots all over town.
“Hey,” I said as he climbed in. “How’d it go?”
Today was a double whammy for him: his first round of physical therapy, preceded by his first psychotherapy session. When Dr. Rubio’s office assistant mentioned the counseling on Monday, Jimmy had balked and dug in his heels. He only gave in when she said he wouldn’t be allowed behind the wheel until Dr. Scanlon provided a complete report, confirming he was mentally fit to drive. I’m pretty sure she was spitballing that part, but I secretly agreed he could benefit from a few visits with a therapist and gave the ultimatum my full-throated agreement. Of course, since his surgeon had not yet authorized him to drive, I was his ride to and from all his appointments. Not that I minded too much. This new Jimmy was a vast improvement on the old one, and I’d savor spending time with him as long as it lasted.
He reached to turn down the volume on my radio while replying, “PT was easy today, but Gregg has already warned me he’ll go harder on me as we move forward.”
“Oops, sorry about the radio,” I said and pushed the off button to envelop the car in our usual funereal silence.
He pushed it back on. “It’s okay. Low volume is good for a start. That’s what Dr. Scanlon said.”
“How did that appointment go?” I asked.
“A bunch of mumbo-jumbo about my feelings,” he complained. “Total waste of time.”
Well, Rome wasn’t built in a day. I couldn’t expect a complete transformation with Jimmy overnight.
“Uh-huh,” I said and shifted into reverse.
Above the engine’s low hum, a guitar strummed to a muted drumbeat. The radio’s volume was way too low to recognize the melody, but I appreciated this small victory on Jimmy’s part. He might not realize he’d already taken a step with Dr. Scanlon’s help, but he would eventually.
Neither of us was perfect. Jimmy and I are both works in progress, each of us learning to adapt to our new normal. We’ll have days that propel us one step forward and days with an occasional falter or stumble.
“I can’t believe anybody falls for that psycho-voodoo.”
I hid my smile. By continuing to speak while I drove out of the parking lot and onto the road, he’d already revoked his own proclamation. Instead of calling attention to this turnabout, I countered with, “I find therapy soothing. It helps you come to terms with unresolved issues that might be affecting your day-to-day life without your knowledge.”
“Now you sound like your grandmother.”
I stopped at a red light on the corner. “Well, even a blind squirrel finds a nut now and then.”
He snorted. “Thea? Is that you?”
“Ha-ha,” I retorted. “I actually said that to Paige today. She loved it so much she said she planned to use it every chance she got.”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Crap. I was so wound up about the last two hours, I forgot to ask. How’d it go for you today?”
I let out a deep breath. “Okay. I mean the news isn’t ideal, but it’s not as devastating as I feared, either.”
“That’s good then. Good for you. I told you. Paige is the best. If anybody could help you, it’s her.”
The light turned green, and I proceeded forward. “It was rough.” I grimaced. “I mean, not only because we were talking about slicing and dicing up the company I built from scratch, but knowing the big secret about Christmas Eve didn’t help. I was terrified I’d say something stupid that would give away the surprise.”
“Not you. Not a chance. It’s one of the reasons I trusted you for all this medical stuff. You’d never give up a confidence. Do you think she suspects anything?”
“If she does, she didn’t do or say anything to get information out of me.”
“So there you go. You did fine.”
“I guess so.”
Our conversation drifted off then, but not because of some bizarre paranoia on Jimmy’s part. This was a natural comfort between two people who trusted each other. We drove the rest of the way to his house, each folded into our own thoughts, with the softest music flavoring our surroundings.
After I dropped him off, I returned to my studio to gather a few items for tomorrow’s photo shoot with Oliver Birdsong. I rummaged through my props for anything that would pair well with a green-and-red plaid suit and a blue-and-silver tree. No surprise I came up empty. With a defeated sigh, I strode out of the supply closet. I would have to wing it and hope I could use the kid himself to pull off a miracle.
Once again, I wished I hadn’t given away my right to work with the black-and-white style I’d created for the Haleys. But I had, so I had to make do with other options. Instead of dwelling on my short-sightedness, I pulled up Oliver’s proofs from last year’s photo shoot and studied them with a critical eye. They were nice, but in no way unique. Oliver’s smile came across as too smug, almost calculating. In every pic, whether seated or standing, he projected an attitude of superiority and steely posture.
As I often did when I needed inspiration, I accessed online portrait galleries from different New York museums. For some reason, no matter which site I visited, my eye was continually drawn to the paintings and images of Greek gods and goddesses.
Black and white, gods and goddesses...
An idea clicked in my head. Years ago, photographer Herb Ritts shot to fame with his black and white portraits of celebrities posed to emulate classical Greek sculptures. The photographs used minimal aesthetics and clean lines, played with light and shadows, and honed in on his subject’s particular strength. I’d first learned about him when I came across his photo of a group of supermodels, all nude and all clustered together, on a wooden-planked floor as an homage to the modern goddess.
What if I played with a similar idea—without the selective nudity, of course?
I scrolled through Oliver’s shots from last year. Lord, the kid was stiff! If I couldn’t get him to relax in front of my lens, I would never be able to come close to Ritts’s style. I wondered if the kid participated in any school sports or activities. He must. His parents struck me as the type to thickly pad his CV for college review (and for bragging rights at the country club). On a whim, I went to the online version of the Snug Harbor Ledger and typed “Oliver Birdsong” in the search bar.
Bingo! The kid was the captain of his prep school’s chess club.
Chess. Black and white.
My imagination went into overdrive as I flipped back to the kid’s proofs and chose one of the shots where he was seated on the studio’s stool. I started by changing the color proof to a black and white. Yes. I could make this work. Of course, whatever I finally came up with tomorrow would have to be perfected in color. No way would Matty and Pam Birdsong settle for black and white photos on their Christmas cards.
And I’d have to make one more stop on the way home tonight. Yikes. I dreaded having to fight the shopping crowds at the discount store, but I didn’t want to risk getting to the Birdsongs’ house and discovering they didn’t have what I needed. At least I had a direction for tomorrow’s photo session.
♥♥♥♥
ALTHEA
First chance I got, I checked my astrological charts to see if a New Year’s Eve wedding could work. I was an Aquarius, Lou a Libra. According to the stars, the waning moon that night was a perfect time to tie up loose ends. Well, there were no two looser ends than the two of us.
The astrology world would say our relationship was forged in ideals of justice and a passion for the arts with a hearty dose of spontaneity tossed into the mix. In a younger couple, our weaknesses—my insecurities and occasional need for solitude versus his need to be liked by everyone and tendency to bulldoze others to win an argument—would be a deal-breaker. But Lou and I weren’t kids with our first crush. The jagged-edged foibles of our youth had worn down over time, leaving us both smoother, more competent, more patient in our golden years. We’d weathered storms in our lives, learned from our mistakes, and now looked to each other for safe harbor as we sailed into the sunset of life.
Goodness, the sea captain had really influenced my outlook on life, hadn’t he?
Our star charts foretold an excellent beginning for our marriage on my chosen date, and added to the waning moon, gave me all the positivity I could ask for. I couldn’t wait to tell Lou. In the meantime, I did some planning in a notebook for the requirements needed for our nuptials. I’d want a new dress, nothing like the Gunne Sax drop-waist number I’d worn when I married Archie. Of course, I wasn’t hiding a burgeoning belly this time around. More than that, though, I wanted something simple yet elegant, not white or ivory because not only was the idea laughable, but also because I wasn’t a white or ivory girl anymore. I wanted a vivid, joyful color that spoke of wisdom and experience.
While the week before Christmas wasn’t an ideal time to shop because of the crowds, it was also the perfect time because I’d have no limit to choices available in the stores with everyone clamoring for the perfect holiday ensemble. Siobhan, as maid of honor, would have to go shopping with me. After all, she’d need a dress, too. And as our official photographer, she’d know what colors would show up best in the pictures. I’d consult with her friend Pan about flowers, but I leaned more toward a corsage, rather than a full-out bouquet. No flowers in my hair this time, either. Been there, done that.
While in many ways, this wedding would mirror my first because it would happen so quickly and with a small contingent of attendees, I wanted to differentiate the event from my ceremony with Archie. This was a new chapter with a new man and the beginning of the rest of my life.
That night, as we sat cuddled up on his couch with a bottle of wine and a cheese platter, I told Lou I’d decided our wedding date would be New Year’s Eve.
He had the nerve to blanch, and even by the glow of a dying fire as the only light in the room, the shock in his face was obvious. “So fast?”
My eyes shot lasers at him while I rocketed off his couch and out of his arms. “Fast? Weren’t you the man who wanted to whisk me to the courthouse yesterday?”
“Aw, Thea,” he grumbled, getting to his feet at a much slower pace than I had. Despite my stiff posture and my arms crossed to shield my heart, he pulled me into a bear hug. “You know I’ll marry you yesterday...” He kissed the top of my head. “...today...” Another kiss. “...tomorrow.”
I swiveled my neck to the side to avoid his third kiss. “Hmmph! That’s not what you just said. If you’ve changed your mind, say so. Before whatever game you’re playing goes any farther.” Instead of the denial I sought, rumbles of laughter reverberated from his chest. His amusement only ticked me off more, and I pushed away from him. “That’s it. I’m going home.”
My steps ate up the carpet between the couch and the closet. If he wanted to act like a jerk, fine. I didn’t have to entertain him. If gaining my heart’s surrender had been a ploy to hurt me, he’d succeeded. But I’d keep my dignity.
He caught up with me in three steps and ran his hands down my arms to soothe my ruffled feathers. “I’m never letting you go, sweetheart. You know how much I love you. I’ve waited so long to make you mine. When you gave me a date only a week and a half from now, I thought you were joking. After all the years I’ve held out hope, I can’t believe I’m ten days away from attaining my dream.”
His excuse mollified me somewhat, and I relaxed my posture, but stayed rooted within arm’s reach of the closet where my coat waited, in case I had to go with my first instinct to hightail it out of here. “You haven’t changed your mind?”
“I haven’t changed my mind in fifty years. I won’t change my mind for five hundred more.”
Okay, maybe he was sincere. But I wouldn’t make his return to my good graces too easy. I chewed on a thumbnail and pretended to consider his words with care. “And what happens in year five hundred and one?”
“I fall in love with you all over again.”
All the fight drained from my body in one quick, hot flood. If I hadn’t already agreed to marry him next week, I’d be dragging this man to Town Hall right now. Since I wanted to wait ‘til the date the stars had helped me choose, I opted for a different route tonight. Framing his face between my hands, I drew his head down and seared his lips with my kiss.
“Good. Take me upstairs now.”
So he did.