All that are mine is the storyline and the original characters, everyone else, I borrowed; but I have asked if I can keep Gerik - so far, no response - but I must prevail!!! (GerrysJackie laughs hysterically while devising a scheme to capture the heart of GERIK!!)
Meanwhile, enjoy.
MAN OF SORROWS
CHAPTER 10
Of course, even the best of plans can fall through when life doesn't cooperate. The next week came, and Christine was buried in her lesson plans.
She had thought she was done with them, but the president of the school board had called and said they were going to do away with her art class because of further budget cuts that were implemented. This news had set Christine on a mission to save her class.
Her days were filled with meeting after meeting in front of various VIP's for the school systems, but they had not yielded in their decision.
Her efforts had earned an article in the paper under the community section; but they had not gotten her what she wanted.
They had told her, of course, that if she could personally finance the supplies and such, she could continue with the class, but there was no way Christine could come up with that kind of money up front…not on the salary they paid her.
The frustration of it all was overwhelming, and after a week of fighting, she was exhausted – physically and mentally. She only had a week left to come up with a solution where there was none.
She had only visited the gallery for three days, and only during lunch – each time, she had searched the room for some sign of him…even though she could feel his presence, Erik Argeneau was nowhere to be found.
Meg had called several times to lift her spirits, but Christine was very disturbed by the route that the school systems were taking – they spent so much money on athletics, but the arts suffered – drastically.
She didn't want to admit to herself – or Meg – that she was pining over Erik. He had made no indication of being interested in her.
So why do you dream about him every night and think about him all day?
Christine blew on her cappuccino, smiled at Meg, and almost laughed at her idiocy. She once again focused on her problems at school.
"Meg, it's like they punish those children who are not athletically gifted, but whose interests lean toward the arts – these children don't get the same opportunities as those in the athletics programs do."
Meg had managed to steal her away for an after school snack at the corner Starbucks.
"I know, Christine, I know…I can't believe they are doing this to your class."
"I guess I am going to have to accept the fact that the class will end…what are those students going to do?"
Tears of frustration and disappointment were cascading down her face – she hated this feeling of inadequacy and helplessness.
Two more days past without change; then on Thursday evening, Christine returned home to the four walls of her small apartment and her phone was blinking.
The message was from Torrence Briggs, the president of the school board.
"Ms. Daughtry, I didn't really want to talk to you over the phone. I was calling to set up a short meeting in the morning. Come to the school tomorrow morning at 10 a.m.; a solution to your predicament has presented itself."
There were no more messages and Christine stood in puzzled thought. What solution had been found, and more importantly – by whom?
She sorted through every possible avenue in her head, and came up blank, every time. She had no more resources, including money; the school had no money – to what solution could he possibly be referring?
The phone rang, jolting Christine out of her jumbled thoughts.
"Hello?"
"Are you up to some dinner at my place?"
"Meg, I just got the strangest message from Mr. Briggs."
"Isn't he the man giving you such grief over your art class?"
"Yes…he wants to meet in the morning…he says a solution has been found."
"Hey, that's great news! Maybe you'll get to have the class after all."
"I hope so…why don't you come over here for dinner – you cooked the last time we did this."
A light chuckle sounded in the phone, "If you call Red Dragon Chinese take-out cooking – then yeah – I cooked."
Christine returned the laugh and then thought of something, "Hey, where's Rafe…why aren't you two hanging out tonight?"
"He's on some business deal in Arizona – he won't be back for a couple more days."
Christine could sense the irritation in Meg's voice and rolled her eyes.
"He does work for a living Meg…cut the guy some slack."
"I know, but…"
"Look…you do this every time you start liking some guy – you nit pick the relationship apart until you expose some tiny flaw in the armor of your white knight- and then you send him packing."
There was silence over the phone line and Christine knew she had hit a nerve.
"I'm on my way over…what are we eating?"
Christine smiled, knowing that they were going to have an evening of debate.
"How does…" She opened her refrigerator and inventoried her choices. "…Oh! I have some chicken breasts thawed…how about I make some lemon chicken over rice?"
Meg chuckled again, "Sounds great…I'll bring the diet soda."
♫♫♫
"Erik, what is so fascinating about the paint on your walls that you feel you must stay in your apartment and watch it peel?"
Evie had spent the last week at a session in Tokyo and had just arrived from the airport. Julius had gone with her, so Erik had remained within the confines of his apartment during the day; and at night, he had watched the lights and listened to the sounds of the city.
The gallery was doing well, and Julius' assistant, Marge Wallace, had been acting curator in his absence. She knew Erik lived in the apartment above the gallery and that he was the owner, but she did not bother him…and he wanted it that way. He watched the floor from his apartment.
Christine had shown up for several nights in a row…seemingly looking for something or someone. Erik had simply watched her graceful movements and observed how she longingly adored many of the pictures in his collection.
"I don't need to leave my apartment to make a living, Evie – I love the computer age...besides, paint can be fascinating if applied just right."
Evie just giggled at that answer, "I suppose to an interior designer, paint does appear fascinating."
She scoffed and ran her finger over the dust that covered the giant bookcase next to his fax machine.
"You finished your most recent job, I take it…the Piedmont Hotel wasn't it – in London?"
Evie found much humor in the fact that Erik could meticulously design the interior of the world's most beautiful hotels, homes, business offices – but he lived in a studio apartment, with meager furnishings, and was the worst housekeeper she had ever known.
Unaware of her humorous thoughts, Erik shook his head, happy to discuss his latest million-dollar project.
"Yes… they adopted every idea I proposed to them…and the remodeling will begin in a month. It's going to be absolutely breathtaking to look upon."
Evie smiled up at his handsome face, loving the light in his eyes as he spoke about this work, "As is everything that you do, Erik…everything."
Erik returned her smile, and saw a strange glint in her eyes.
"I was so proud of you when you showed up at the dinner party after the gallery opening…speaking of which…" Evie cupped his cheek and smiled expectantly "…have you called Christine?"
He frowned at her words and immediately broke eye contact.
Evie sighed, knowing the answer to her question.
"Why Erik?"
He turned away from her and walked over to the piano, plunked a few of the keys, and spoke quietly.
"I picked up the phone, many times, thinking I would call information and get her number….but I never actually dialed the phone."
His voice dropped low and Evie had to strain to hear his next words.
"What if she's not interested?"
"Believe me, Erik - she is interested…what woman in her right mind wouldn't be?"
He threw her a raised eyebrow and scoffed. He had removed his mask and was avoiding the mirror image that stared back at him from the sleek, shiny surface of the piano.
The doctor had told him, repeatedly, to remove the mask at least once a day and allow his skin to breathe, but Erik hated it. He normally waited until it was dark and there was no one around; but today, his skin seemed irritated and sore.
Evie walked over to him and put her hand on his forearm, "Besides, I have her best friends phone number…I can get Christine's number from Meg. I am going to use her in several more sessions, so I have a reason to call her."
Erik nodded his head, giving Evie permission to do what she could. He just hoped he wouldn't regret it.
TBC