Chapter 23

Monroe counted the business cards in his wallet. "So you're sure you're okay with going to another one of these?"

"I'm the one who keeps asking you to go to these art galas, remember?"

He put his wallet in his back pocket while nodding. "And for some reason I'm actually looking forward to going this time. Except for this cold."

I frowned. "You're still feeling bad?"

"It's better, but my senses are still all out of sorts. Must be what a human must feel like." He shook his head then looked up at me. "I mean, umm… If I separated like that I would… Uhh…"

"Don't worry." I flashed him a smile and he seemed to relax. "I knew what you meant."

"Now remember, we gotta leave in time for me to make my meeting tonight."

"We don't have to stay long," I said while putting on my amethyst necklace. The small faceted circles on a silver chain wrapped around my neck. It looked fantastic with my lavender dress. "But there's a piece I'm looking forward to seeing."

He chuckled. "You know, I'm not going for the art."

"You never know. Something might catch your eye."

"Not likely, man, but I'll keep an open mind… for you, though."

"That's the spirit." I smiled while pulling him close. His Old Spice met my nose as my head rested near the collar of his white dress shirt, and I breathed him in. He smelled as good as he looked. I ran my fingers across his black vest and up to his deep purple tie. No plaid or sweatery goodness tonight. We were both looking pretty sophisticated.

Monroe pulled back. "Before we go, I have something for you." His eyes were bright, and the edges crinkled as he flashed his trademark smile. That smile of his was something, for sure. He reached for his black blazer on the couch, removing a gift box from the breast pocket. "For you," he said as he held the box outward.

"For me?" The small black box had an equally small lavender bow on top. "I like the color," I commented, taking the box from his hands.

"I know," he said. "It's why I picked it. Now don't just hold it. Go on… Open it," he coaxed, gesturing his hands out toward the box.

I carefully removed the ribbon from the box and lifted the lid off, peering inside. It was a wristwatch; beautiful, delicate, and quite old. The mesh rope band and the oval face were definitely antique. I lifted it out and grinned as I looked it over.

"It was my grandmother's," Monroe said, and my eyes shot up at him. He was giving me something very personal. This was significant. "When you check the time on your cell phone I get pain right here, man." He held his fist against his heart. "You need a watch, and you deserve something classic. I could think of nothing else but this one."

"I love it, but you shouldn't have… But, oh..." Crap, I was gonna cry. It was just too amazing of a gift.

"Here, let me try it on you." He took the watch from my trembling hands and fastened it on my wrist. "Now this is a manual-wind movement, Hamilton watch from the early '20s. Fourteen carat white gold, 'cause I know you prefer silver, and the diamonds are real. I just replaced the crystal, so it's in perfect working order."

"Monroe, this is too much." The watch sparkled on my wrist, and I was completely in awe.

"It suits you." Monroe lifted my chin. "So, will you promise me that you'll stop checking the clock on that damn cell phone of yours?"

"Yes," I said emphatically. "Thank you!" I wrapped my arms around his neck.

He kissed me, and I held him tightly. "So, I guess we need to go," he said between kisses.

I stopped and looked down at my new watch, pointing to the time. "Right, yes. Time to go."

I grabbed my black dress jacket and handbag while Monroe put on his blazer. We walked down the steps toward Monroe's VW.

"Entre," Monroe said as he opened the car door.

"Je vous remercie pour l'hospitalité." I winked at him as I settled into the car.

"Okay, let's stick to the French I might actually know."

"But this is more fun." I bit my lip. Sexy brain or not, knowing something Monroe didn't was kind of fun.

He shook his head and closed my car door. "Careful, or we'll have whole conversations in German," he chided as he slid into the driver's seat and buckled his seat belt.

"It'll be a short conversation," I replied with a teasing grin.

(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)

As we headed toward Imago Art Space on Northwest 9th Avenue in the Pearl District, I kept glancing at my watch.

"We're going to be early," said Monroe. "Don't fret or anything."

"Huh? Oh, no. I'm not worried about the time. I'm just admiring it."

"Ah. You act like you've never had a watch before."

"I think the last time I wore one I was twelve, and it had Mickey Mouse on the face," I sheepishly told Monroe.

He grimaced. "Well, nothing against Disney, but this is a bit more high quality."

I nodded. High quality and a family heirloom. A Blutbad family heirloom… given to a Grimm. "Do you think your family would have a problem with you giving this to someone like… me?"

"Hey, now." Monroe reached for my wrist. "You mean more to me than anything, and I want you to have this. It doesn't matter what you are. No separating, remember?"

"You know what I mean, Monroe," I said softly.

"I do, which is why you don't need to be thinking that way," he chided. "Besides, my grandmother was more lenient than my nana ever was. If she knew I was in…" He stopped, pursing his lips tightly and then turned toward the road. "If she knew how incredibly happy you make me, then being a Grimm wouldn't be an issue."

I reached up and lightly ran my fingers through his beard. "You make me incredibly happy, too." If that was what we were using instead of the crazy 'L' word tonight, then I'd go along with it.

We arrived at the gallery moments later. Even though we were early, there were already quite a few people inside. Madame Dazzles caught my eye immediately. She had a new set of bookends tonight. Were they like accessories, interchangeable like a pair of earrings? I pictured her pulling two women out of an expansive closet along with her dress, and I suppressed a chuckle. But that dress. Hers was an elegant crème gown that clung to her body like it was created right on her to fit every part. With her, perhaps it could've been.

Natalie walked up to greet us with a huge smile. "Renée and Monroe, so glad you both could come out!" She was wearing the dress she had brought over, and the alterations had given it a perfect length. It fit her beautifully.

I grinned back at her. "Well, look at you, Miss Red Carpet."

She did a quick twirl. "I can't stop smiling. I just love this dress," she gushed. She looked me over. "But that one is beautiful, Renée. Is that from Sandra's?"

"I wouldn't buy from anyone else."

"She's over by her piece. Oh, it's even better than her last one." She turned to Monroe. "So how were you the next day after yoga?"

"Just fine." Monroe chuckled. "You know, that guy's version of yoga was a bit too easy for me to feel it later."

"Monroe does Bikram," I proudly said.

"Wow!" Natalie's eyes lit up. "Gosh, then no wonder it was so easy for you. I knew you did Pilates. Renée has gone on and on about how awesome you are at that, but she hadn't mentioned the Bikram before."

"On and on, huh?" Monroe flashed me a quick smirk.

"Well she… umm…" Natalie knew she'd said too much again. If she were Wesen, then she did a great job at keeping that a secret, since she wasn't good at keeping her mouth shut about anything else. She looked up at me with her green eyes. Green eyes?

"Did you get more colored contacts?" I asked, switching the subject.

"I did! What do you think?" she asked pensively.

"It looks good," I replied.

"The green looks better with my hair, right?" she continued. The green was bold and darker than my own. It definitely brought out her hair, but that was already pretty bold to begin with. "Most guys find red hair looks better with green eyes." She turned to Monroe. "What do you think? Is that true?"

"Umm, well, I am partial to green eyes." He winked at me and squeezed my hand. "And the Irish would say that's a good combo, but if you like it, then that's what matters."

I beamed at my boyfriend. He was beyond awesome. I couldn't have said it better myself.

"Thanks, Monroe." Natalie seemed to appreciate his input, and she nodded at his words. "Oh, you two must come with me!" she exclaimed. "I want you to meet a few people from The Oregonian."

"Sure," I replied, "but maybe in a moment though, if that's okay?"

"Yeah, of course," she said with a wave of her hand. "Look around and enjoy yourselves. I'll meet back with you soon."

As Natalie walked off, I glanced up at Monroe giving him a look.

"What?" Monroe asked.

"Well?" I widened my eyes, darting them toward Natalie and then back to him.

"Oh." He raised his eyebrows. "Uh, I didn't think to check."

"Can you?" I asked, as we pretended to look at one of the paintings.

"Like, sniff her here?" he hissed at me. "Right now?"

"When you say it that way, it sounds bad."

"I can try," Monroe relented. "But we've got to move this way." I followed Monroe as he snuck around one of the sculptures in the center of the gallery. We both spotted Natalie, who was moving around the room, hugging this person and that. "Man, she's going to smell like everyone in here." Monroe crossed his arms." I know there's Wesen around, but I'm not gonna be able to tell who's who with a crowd like this and with how my nose has been."

"No, it's fine." I frowned slightly. "It doesn't matter if she is or isn't."

"I know you want to know," he whispered in reply. "Besides, we typically reveal ourselves out of courtesy, and she… well, she hasn't."

I looked up at him. "So, she isn't one, then?"

"Well, not necessarily. She might have picked up on what I am, and she's cloaking herself. Wouldn't be the first time a Wesen hasn't wanted a Blutbad to know what they are." Monroe chuckled as he added, "Not that it usually matters." He pointed to his nose, but then he sneezed. "Well, when it's working right."

"Do you want to look around with me?"

"Yeah, may as well."

"While we're here, I want you to meet Sandra. Now she is a…" I trailed off and let my eyes finish the sentence.

Monroe nodded slowly. "Does she know about you?"

"No. I've kept it under wraps."

Monroe's eyebrows went up again. "Well, I mean, I don't want to cause any issues."

I reached for his arm as we walked toward the paintings. "It should be fine."

"Famous last words, man," he replied with a sigh.

(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)

Time passed as we roamed the gallery. Lydia had a knack for aesthetics, I had to admit. The exhibits were arranged very well, and we took our time, admiring the pieces, hand in hand. Okay, so I admired them while Monroe scrutinized them. When I'd comment on a piece, Monroe would roll his eyes and mumble something about what one of the 'greats' would think. Even with Monroe's quips and remarks, I still enjoyed being out, all dressed up with my boyfriend by my side.

Sandra Bilka was talking to a man in double breasted suit as we approached her. "Renée!" she said, and I hugged her. She took a moment to look me over. "I may need to borrow you to do some modeling. I swear my dresses look fantastic on you."

"Thanks." I grinned at her. "I'd like you to meet my boyfriend, Monroe." I gestured a hand in his direction.

"Symphony?" she asked in a hushed voice.

I nodded quickly.

"Nice to meet you." She smiled up at Monroe as her squirrel features came out briefly. "I'm Sandra Bilka."

"Nice to meet you," he nervously replied. Hesitating, he rocked on his heels, but then he quickly let his features emerge.

She looked quickly at me as her eyes widened, but I held my ignorant, blank stare. She gave Monroe a discerning look, but she didn't utter a word about it.

I glanced up at the wall. "So, is this the new piece?"

"Yeah," she said in a daze as she gathered her thoughts. "A Tree for All Seasons."

Four trees in stages of the seasons were painted beautifully across the canvas. It started with branches, sprouting small sprigs of leaves, to a second one of lush foliage, then scarlet red leaves, and finally barren branches dusted with snow. The painting called to me, and I thought about home and my perfect Zen in the woods. The blue-gray sky coupled with the red would match my living room perfectly. I really wanted this piece.

"Sandra it's just wonderful. Has it sold yet?" I asked eagerly. "I love it!"

"Not yet, but it's still early."

"It's very… fluid," said Monroe as he gave her a half-smile. Well, at least he was being polite.

Sandra returned his smile. "Thank you," she said, but her voice was tight. Another gentleman in a blue jacket approached and she took his hand.

"We won't keep you," I told Sandra. "It was good to see you." She nodded and went back to talking.

"I'm going to buy it," I told Monroe when we were out earshot.

"What?" He looked behind us then at me again. "That one?"

"Yeah." I nodded. "I need to find Lydia Swift to arrange it. She shouldn't be too hard to find."

Monroe made a face. "You sure you want that one?"

"The trees are beautiful. Besides, you think it's 'fluid.'" I gave him a smirk.

"I was just being nice," he retorted.

"Well, it was appreciated."

"How about we find the open bar before you start shelling out money?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

We headed to the bar, and Monroe picked us out a wine.

"Have you tried Spätburgunder before?" he asked.

I raised the glass to my lips. "No, first time."

"This grape belongs to oldest varieties, originating from wild vines in Middle Europe and was first introduced into Germany in the late ninth century." He held his glass up, taking a sip. "Yeah, that's a damn fine wine. Full bodied, with a hint of blackberry, yet smooth… and free," he added with a grin.

"Free does taste better," I replied, returning his grin. "You haven't mentioned business cards yet. Are you going to do any business tonight?"

"Oh, I've got my eye on a few people." He turned toward the crowd. "So, I've got an Arly at five o'clock over there, and a woman wearing a vintage Elgin at nine o'clock."

I focused my gaze where he was motioning with his eyes. Was it redundant to use time to point out timepieces? With Monroe, it was probably just a typical day. "So, you want to go over there?"

"I'll be balance wheeling and dealing here soon enough." He looked at my puzzled expression. "Sorry, clock joke. Balance wheels are part of the movement where… Never mind. I'll just show you sometime."

I shook my head at him and grinned. "Can't wait."

While I people watched, Monroe watch watched as we sipped on our wine.

Natalie came back up to me. "There you guys are!" She looked over to Monroe. "Mind if I steal Renée for a moment?"

"Steal away. I'm going to go… mingle." He gave me a knowing look, and I nodded.

Natalie took me by the hand as Monroe set off toward the woman with the vintage watch.

"I think the contacts lenses are working," she said. "See that guy over there in the tan jacket?"

I nonchalantly turned my head toward a guy around my age with a toothy grin that reminded me of Nick's. He wasn't strikingly handsome, as I was expecting from the type of guys Natalie leaned toward, but he wasn't bad looking either. Just kind of average.

"I got a date next weekend," she said excitedly. "He even mentioned how pretty my eyes were. Gosh, I should've bought contact years ago."

"But your hazel eyes are pretty, too."

"I tried to find a shade that was like yours," she replied, ignoring what I'd said. "Your eyes are just, like, the perfect color green."

"Thanks," I replied. It was useless talking her out of this eye color idea.

"So, did you get to see Sandra's piece yet?" she asked.

"Yeah, I did. You're right. It's fantastic. Actually, I think I'm going to buy it."

"You better hurry then, because there was a guy that was talking it over with Lydia not too long ago."

"Oh," I said. "Well, I don't want to lose it."

"I think I might get one tonight, too. Come see!"

"Okay, but…" Before I could suggest seeing Lydia, she dragged me over to the other side of the gallery. In front of us was a large canvas with splashes of color that made up the cityscape of Seattle. The space needle was the only thing I recognized.

Natalie looked up at the painting. "It's a perfect depiction, and it reminds me of home. Gosh, I'm going to miss coming to these."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, you didn't hear?" She turned back to me. "This is Lydia's last one. She accepted the position as the new curator at the Portland Museum. She's been telling everyone, so I thought you knew already."

"No," I replied. "First I've heard about it."

"She's pretty excited. It's something she's wanted to do for some time."

"So, she can't do both?"

"I'm sure she could, but she still has her gallery in Vancouver to maintain. She's letting one of her associates take over the local Portland groups." Natalie pointed over to Madame Dazzles and her Bookends. "Johnna Smallwood, the one on the left. She's the lucky lady that Lydia chose."

Bookend One was quite young, with long, charcoal locks and ivory skin even paler than my own. She was already working on her faux smile as she stood closely near Madame Dazzles, mimicking her every move.

"From what I've heard," Natalie continued, "if she does well with the local part, Lydia is going to give her some of the bigger names to start working with. With those kinds of connections, she could own her own gallery by the time she's thirty. Can you imagine?"

I nodded. "Sounds like a dream come true." I tried to be polite, but my tone didn't. "Do you mind if we go over there? I want to talk to Lydia about Sandra's painting."

"Sure. We can both set up our purchases. I'm getting that Seattle one."

As we approached Madame Dazzles, she acknowledged us with a faux smile on her stunning face. She was wearing a sparkling watch on her right wrist. Rolex or Cartier perhaps? It was something equally expensive, for sure. Maybe Monroe could make some business off her, too. If only I had one of his cards with me.

"Renée, correct?" she asked with a nod. Still no handshake. Just a nod. Her Bookends silently stood by her without a word.

"Yes." What a surprise she remembered my name. "Good to see you again."

"So glad you could attend." Her voice drew out all grandiose. I waited for the violins to begin to play.

I smiled wide. "I hear congratulations are in order."

She nodded again. "Thank you. Yes. I take over at the museum on Monday." Her even tone was anything but excited. Perhaps this was her excited tone. "Johnna will be hosting the next event." She turned to Bookend One, whose face lit up like she'd just been called down to The Price is Right. If she was going to take over for Lydia, she'd have to learn to look less alive.

"Renée Davenport," I said, ignoring the lack of formal introductions. "Nice to meet you."

"Johnna Smallwood, pleasure." Her blue eyes brightened. They were the same shade as Lydia's. Maybe she referred everyone to her optometrist. Johanna extended her hand. Wow, this one knew what a handshake was. I took it warmly and she smiled. Her finger snagged on my ring, and she had a brief woge into a Waschbar as she jolted her hand back.

"I'm so sorry." My face remained smooth, but I hadn't expected that one. "Are you all right?"

"Oh, it's fine." She held up her finger. "Just a scratch."

"Renée is a financial trainer, and she's from Louisville, Kentucky," said Natalie, who seemed happy fill in the introductions. "They have that Derby there."

I nodded slowly. Right, because that was the only thing we were famous for. How many times had I used that same line since I'd moved here? Otherwise, I'd get a blank stare. I refrained from shaking my head.

Natalie went on to mention our yoga connection, and for some reason, she mentioned my love for music. "Renée knows, like, every song lyric there is. She's amazing." Natalie paused as Lydia had a bored-to-tears expression on her flawless face.

I glanced over at Bookend Two, who was standing uncomfortably still. Not to be rude, I extended my hand toward her. She glanced awkwardly and looked toward Madame Dazzles, as if asking permission to speak. Madame Dazzles just blinked at her. She took my hand.

"And you are?" I asked.

"Frieda… Frieda Tuckerman." Her voice came out shakily, and she quickly retracted her hand. Her brown eyes looked down. Maybe that had been too much interaction for her.

"So, Lydia," I said, turning my focus back. "Has anyone purchased Sandra Bilka's painting yet?"

"There was someone who inquired, but he didn't seem too committed," she replied dryly. "Why?" her tone changed. "Are you interested?"

"Yes, actually."

"Wonderful!" She drew out the word. "I'll make the arrangements."

"I'd like to purchase the one by Andrew McKeon," Natalie piped up, pointing to the Seattle piece behind us.

"Two purchases. Delightful." Madame Dazzles' faux smile burst forth, and she stepped away from her bookends as she took us to finalize the transactions.

"There are a few forms to sign," Madame Dazzles said as she continued to write on one form while reaching for more forms with her right hand. She was quite the multi-tasker. I added that comment to my 'nice things' mental filing cabinet.

Fifteen minutes later, I was the proud owner of a Sandra Bilka original. Madame Dazzles said she'd have it ready for pick-up later on this week.

"Sandra, your painting sold!" She led us over to where Sandra was standing.

When Sandra turned she grinned at me. "You're my buyer?" she asked.

I nodded. "I told you I loved it."

"Thanks!" She beamed as her squirrel features flourished out.

I reached over and gave Sandra a hug as she retracted, and then I turned back to Madame Dazzles, who looked down her nose at me. Hugging must be taboo. I simply smiled back at her. Lydia Swift was swiftly getting on my nerves. I wouldn't let her know that, though.

"Natalie, let's give Mr. McKeon the good news about his piece," she stated, reaching for her elbow. Natalie and Lydia walked away as Lydia took her for a hug-free meeting of her artist.

Sandra's expression became serious once we were alone. "Your boyfriend… seems nice." She tugged at her fingers.

"He's a wonderful guy."

"Does he… treat ya well?" she asked with a bit of hesitation in her voice.

I gave her a knowing look. "Sandra, contrary to what you've heard, he's not of the big and bad variety."

Her eyes widened, and I remained quiet as it sank in what I'd just told her. It wasn't best to have Wesen knowing what I was, but this was my boutique girl. What harm could it do? She had another woge, and I smiled at her with a small nod.

She bit her lip, looking at me all bewildered as she retracted. "So, you're a…?"

"And contrary to what you've heard, I'm not bad either."

Surprisingly she smiled at this. "Wow… A Grimm?" she whispered.

I nodded again, and for the first time I could honestly say, "Yes." I put my finger to my lips. "Will you keep my secret?"

She nodded quickly. "No one would believe me if I told them."

I pulled a pen and a card from my handbag and jotted down my phone number. "Call me, and I'll tell you more. I trust you, Sandra."

She took the card and stuck it in her clutch.

"Renée," Natalie said behind me, and I turned. "You ought to meet Andrew." Sandra waved me on, and Natalie took me by the hand. As we walked away, I held back a grin. It felt good that Sandra knew.

"Lydia said that Johnna is taking over immediately, so I won't have to miss out on these galas. Gosh, I'm just thrilled!"

"That's great!" I replied as we walked toward a tall man with a handlebar moustache.

"When I find out the date of the next one, I'll be sure to let you know."

"Wouldn't miss it," I replied while biting the inside of my cheek.

(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)

After meeting Andrew and a few more artists, I reached for my cell phone to check the time, but then stopped and looked at my wrist. Ten till eight. Oh, we needed to get going.

"Natalie, I'm going to have to head out. Monroe has an appointment, and I promised we'd leave in time for him to get there."

"Sure, no problem. I'm happy you guys came out tonight. Too bad you didn't get to meet my friends from work."

"Some other time, perhaps," I replied. "Good luck with your date."

"Oh, I'll keep you updated," she assured me.

After giving Natalie a quick hug, I scanned the gallery until I found Monroe. He was handing his business card to a guy wearing a large, gold watch. I approached as he was telling him, "No timepiece too big or too small."

"It's almost eight," I told Monroe as the guy walked off.

"Wow, already?" Monroe replied, looking at his watch. "Man, we probably should get going. I need time to change. I'm not going to my meeting like this." He pointed down at his tie.

"So, how did the business cards go?"

He grinned. "Really well. I passed out maybe ten or fifteen. I already have two confirmed gigs for some maintenance work."

"Hey, that's good. You're making money, and I'm spending it."

"You wound up buying that one painting, huh?"

"Yeah, and I did a bit more than that."

Monroe looked curiously at me. "You bought more than one?"

"No, not exactly," I replied as we walked out the door. "I'll tell you in the car."

A/N: So... Sandra knows about Renée!