Becoming His Ch. 05

"I suppose time will tell," Cameron said, his tone dark. "Anything more?"

"Wednesday evening, five o'clock, dinner, your place."

His laughter filled her ear.

"I love you, Ed," he said. Lila heard the sound of shuffling papers. "All right, I've got to run to a meeting. I'll see you... Wednesday. Sweet dreams, baby girl."

"Sweet dreams? It's only -- " Lila began, but then the line beeped. He'd hung up. She shook her head to herself and turned back to her painting.

At dinner, she broke the news to her mother and Robert.

"I'm going into the city on Wednesday afternoon," she said.

"Into the city? Whatever for?" her mother asked, her eyes jittering nervously in Robert's direction.

"I'm visiting an art gallery." She tactfully neglected to mention the fact that her mother knew the gallery in question, and its owner, because her father had worked there in the past. "And then going out to dinner."

"With Jonas Keaton?" Robert asked, his eyes rising from his plate for the first time.

Lila swallowed. She hadn't expected to encounter an opportunity for a well-placed lie. But she shook her head.

"No, not with Jonas. With someone else."

"Why not with Jonas?" Robert asked. He sounded almost angry. "He has the most potential of any young man you've ever met. Listen, girlie, this is the way. You set your sights on the best, and you don't deviate from your goal. Not like your mother before she and I met -- she was all over the map! She's lucky I didn't think she was used goods."

Lila's mother almost choked on her salad.

"Robert, that's quite enough," she managed, wiping her mouth on her napkin.

Robert turned to glare at her.

"No, your daughter needs to understand what a big mistake she's making. She has a young man from a very decent family interested in her, and meanwhile she's running off with some other..." He seemed to fish for a word that he never found. "For all we know she's sleeping around, Miranda! She's your daughter, and she lives under my roof. It's our responsibility to police her behavior and school her in good morals."

"I have good morals and good behavior," Lila said hotly. Then she shook her head, clearing her thoughts. "Look, I'm not trying to start an argument. Dad, it's not the eighteenth century. There are plenty of young men as decent as Jonas out there. And I'm still talking to him. This -- This is just a casual thing with a guy I knew in high school."

"Oh, and here she goes again," Robert said with a roll of his eyes. "Just like her mother. She'll marry the deadbeat she met in high school and -- "

"No," said Lila's mother.

Both pairs of eyes flicked over to her. She was staring down at her plate, twirling a few strands of spaghetti about her fork. Lila expected waterworks, but she was surprised to find her mother's exterior as calm and level as her voice when she continued.

"That is not fair, Robert. Not fair to her, and not fair to me. And Nick..." There came a single tear, trickling down her cheek. "Nick was not a deadbeat, any more than you were at the age of twenty-one. Not all of us have a fortune from our parents to fall back on. You might try remembering that."

"Hell, Miranda." Robert got up, the fire behind his eyes volcanic. "I'll just adjourn myself, then. It seems the two of you ladies are against me."

He stalked out of the room. Lila looked at her mother, shocked at the change that seemed to have come over her. Only for a moment, though. As she watched, her mother's shoulders began to shake, and she began to bawl, her hair hanging dangerously near her plate of spaghetti.

Lila went over to her and wrapped her arms around her shoulders, hugging her from behind.

"Thanks, Mom," she whispered, gathering her mother's hair and pulling it back from her face. "You didn't need to do that."

"Didn't I?" her mother blubbered, almost incoherent. "He was insulting me. And your dead father. Besides, you're eighteen. When I was eighteen, I was living it up. And you're such a good kid."

She punctuated the last statement with a big sniff. Lila hugged her tighter. Suddenly, she was filled with an urge to tell her everything, every last little thing that had transpired between her and Cameron.

But she held her tongue. Nothing good could come of it.

Her mother raised her head, teary-eyed.

"You finished your spaghetti," she said, looking across the table at Lila's plate. "No wonder you've been looking healthier. You've been eating."

"I have, Mom," Lila said softly. In her heart she again yearned to tell her mother why, to tell her how happy she was, to tell her the source of her happiness. But again, she stopped herself.

That night, as she lay in bed trying to get to sleep, she listened to her mother and Robert arguing down the hall in the master bedroom, loudly enough that there was no concealing their angry words. Or, rather, his angry words. Her mother, as far as she could hear, had rapidly devolved into tears.

Once or twice, she thought she heard a sound like a muffled yelp or a thud, but she wasn't sure. It could have been her imagination. But it made her sick to think about what that man might have been doing to her mother, and she squeezed her blanket around her head to drown out the sounds, tears forcing their way from her eyes and coursing down her cheeks.

When she was brave enough to listen again, the house was quiet. They had gone to sleep, or at least their argument had ended. She rolled over and piled the blankets high around her and off.

The next day, the skies decided to open, and Lila found herself walking beneath her umbrella in the rain to the coffee shop in the square to meet Emily.

They took their usual table, and Lila looked forlornly at the spot that Victoria usually occupied on the bench next to Emily.

"I miss her too," Emily said with a roll of her eyes, returning with their coffee. "I never thought I'd miss the brat! What can I say, she makes us complete."

"How are things with James?" Lila asked, sipping on her cappuccino.

Emily shrugged.

"They're fine. I'm thinking we should break it off before the fall. What do you think?"

"Em, you spent so long wanting to be with him! Why would you start something just to break it off like that?" Lila asked.

"Because we're going away to college, and he's going to be in Philadelphia, and I'm going to be in Amherst." Emily took a sip of her own coffee, eyeing Lila over the rim of the mug. "Why, do you think we'd be able to do the long distance thing?"

"If any two people could, it would be the two of you," Lila said. "You're both so... quiet and civil. Besides, I think he really likes you. It's worth a shot."

Emily shrugged again.

"We'll see how the rest of the summer goes. You know what Tori will say, though."

"Yeah, yeah, that you should party and live it up and have sex with as many guys -- no, with as many people as you can." Lila grinned. "Of course. But you don't have to listen to her."

"Says the one who seems to pretty well have listened to her," said Emily. She gave Lila a long look. "So, how are things with Cameron? Or should I call him Prince Charming?"

"Nooo," Lila said. "Please don't. Things are all right, I guess."

She could feel herself blushing.

"Oh, come on." Emily slapped her hand down on the tabletop. "It's clearly more than all right. You've barely told me anything. I'm supposed to be your best friend!"

"You are," Lila said softly. She bit her lip, her hair falling across her face. "It's just..."

"You're worried I'm going to disapprove. Jesus, Lila, I'm not your mother. Even if I were, I think the time for disapproval has passed and gone. So give me the dirty details."

"Well, we kissed," Lila said. "But I already told you that. He came to the soup kitchen with me."

"He went to the soup kitchen?" Emily raised her eyebrows. "Jeez, the guy must be really into you. Or really desperate to get into your pants."

"Or he's just a good guy," Lila said, jumping to Cameron's defense. "You should've seen it. There's this woman I've been trying to help out named June. She has a baby boy, and they've been living in the women's shelter down the street from the soup kitchen. Well, he gave her a stack of cash."

"A stack of cash?" Emily's eyes had widened. "How fat?"

"Fat. He counted it out and put it in an envelope. I didn't even see, but the other ladies did." Lila felt a pang. "I don't know, Emily. Maybe he's too good for you."

"Nonsense," Emily scoffed. "This is Lila speaking, the girl who needs to rescue every wounded animal and feels the urge to heal every scarred heart. No one is too good for you."

"No, I mean too good in other ways, too." Lila looked down at her coffee. "I mean, he's filthy rich. He took me to his house the other day, out in Weston. You should've seen it."

Emily rolled her brown eyes.

"Earth to Lila, these were all things you knew before you started seeing him," she said.

"Okay, I'm worried about my mom and Robert finding out," Lila admitted. She bit her lip again, looking across the table at her best friend. "It seems like things might be getting more serious, and I don't know what to do. There's already one person who knows, a lady from church, and there are another two who might, and it feels like it's only a matter of time before it gets back to them. They might be oblivious now, but they'll never accept it. Never."

"Maybe you should tell them first, before they hear about it through the grapevine," Emily said with a shrug. She took a sip of her coffee. "I'm sorry. It does complicate things, dating a billionaire twice your own age. Ha ha. Sorry, but not sorry. If things go south with them, I'm sure he can make some kind of arrangements for you. It's not as if you'll go hungry."

"I'm not trying to be dependent on the man," Lila said hotly. "I don't even like being dependent on Robert, and he's my own stepfather."

"I think you're just being stubborn," Emily said. She made an indication toward Lila. "Look at you. You're glowing. This man is the best thing that's ever happened to you."

"It's only been a month, Em," Lila whispered. "And we're not even together together. We're just... seeing each other. Secretly seeing each other. Or at least we have been. He wants me to go out with him in public this Friday, to some party at a fancy hotel. That's half the reason I needed to see you today. I'm sorry. I need you to cover for me again."

"It's okay. What fancy hotel?" Emily asked, her curiosity obviously piqued.

"The Langley. I've never heard of it."

"I have! It's a five star hotel in a historic building. You better take plenty of pictures." Emily smiled across the table at Lila. "Anyway, that's good news. He wants to be out in the open with you. So he doesn't just want you for your body."

"It's not like I have much of one, anyway," Lila said, wrapping her arms around herself self-consciously.

Emily shook her head at her.

"Someday I hope you'll see what all the rest of us see in you," she said. "It's sad, really. No one ever told you you were beautiful."

"No, not until he came around," Lila said.

They lapsed into silence. Outside, the skies had begun to clear, and people walked up and down the rain-washed street, bikes zipping by.

"I really wish Tori were here," said Lila momentarily.

"Me too," Emily said. "She'd probably have better tips for you, and I wouldn't be jealous. But when she gets back, I've gotta give her an earful about all the shit she did in Bali."

"You don't have to," Lila said.

"Sure I do." Emily sipped on her coffee, turning once again to regard the scene outside the windows. "That's my role in this trio. Mother hen."

On Wednesday afternoon, Emily's voice accompanied Lila via phone to the train station. Her best friend was preparing for an impromptu camping weekend that her parents had sprung on her and her younger brother just that morning.

"It's just like them. As if I want to hike. At least they let me invite James."

"That's really chill of them. You're lucky," Lila said, climbing up the steps into the train terminal. She tapped her card at the gates and went through, hurrying down the stairs to track level, where she found a quiet, shaded spot on a bench about halfway down the platform.

"Lucky? It's supposed to be hotter there than it is here." Emily groaned over the phone. "We're going to be sweating balls going up Mt. whatever it's called, and James is going to be there with me."

"You know, someone once said that if you want to know someone, you should climb a mountain with them," Lila teased.

"You smart ass. Anyway, I have to go. Good luck. Call me later?"

"Maybe later. Tomorrow, at the least. Bye!"

Lila hung up and cast her eyes up and down the platform. There were a few others taking the train into the city at this hour, but not many. She fidgeted where she sat, questioning her choice of dress again. Was it professional enough for the meeting? Cute enough for her date afterward? She'd settled on a skirt and a floral blouse, the type of thing she would have worn to school on a presentation day.

Beneath her arm lay a few rolled up canvases, bundled together with masking tape. That morning, she'd agonized over which ones to bring, and she'd settled on the ones she'd shown Cameron along with a few others that provided a more representative sample of her work.

She was nervous. She'd already programmed her phone to display directions from the train station to Ed Krueger's gallery. It was a short walk. The journey from the gallery to Cameron's apartment, on the other hand, would not be as insubstantial, but she figured that it would be a welcome chance to clear her head after her meeting. She took a deep breath and hopped up from her bench as the train came in.

The ride was brief and thankfully unmarked by delays. She got off in the city and walked swiftly to her destination. The gallery was called, simply, Krueger's, and operated out of a glass-faced brick building that she did, in fact, remember, though it took her a moment to place it. She was certain she'd been there before. She remembered holding her father's hand as they walked together through the glass double doors. Had her mother been there with them? She couldn't remember. She did remember that she'd been wearing a poofy dress. They had been attending a fancy event... or something.

She walked up to the doors and, taking another deep breath, pulled one of them open and walked in by herself. Electronic chimes rang out, and she stopped just inside, casting her eyes about. She'd entered a large white space hung with paintings here and there, but it seemed that inventory was being changed -- a young man on a stepladder looked across the room at her.

"Just a minute, please," he said.

She stood still. On a pillar in the center of the room hung a series of small canvases in black and white, their totality forming a mosaic of some sort. She stared at them, entranced.

"Ah, I see you've noticed the work of Adeline Edmonds," came a voice to her right, and she almost jumped. The worn, tanned face of Ed Krueger broke into a smile, and he extended his hand to her. "Lila. You found the place all right."

"I d- did," she stammered, taking his proffered hand. She was shocked, shocked to find that this man she hadn't seen in over a decade looked much the same as she remembered him, just a little more lined and weather-worn. "Thanks so much for having me, Mr. Krueger."

"Please, none of this Mr. Krueger nonsense. Call me Ed." He looked across the room at his young assistant. It struck Lila that, thirteen or fourteen years ago, that might have been her father. "It's all right, Oliver, she's with me. We'll be in my office if you need anything."

"Aye, aye, captain," came the response.

"I see you brought work," Ed said, his eyes falling on the canvases in Lila's arms. "Right this way, then. There are men much more impatient than me in this world, and I wouldn't want to make you late for your dinner date with one of them."

Lila blushed.

"How did you guess?" she asked.

Ed chuckled.

"Let's just say that our mutual friend doesn't gush over someone very often, and when he does..." He raised his eyebrows at her. "I've probably said too much. You'll do me a favor and not repeat any of it to him, I hope, or I might find my head freed from my body."

Lila laughed. Ed pulled open a plain door in the back wall and they proceeded down a narrow hallway to a workshop, the air filled with the smells of paint and canvases.

"So, sit," Ed said, gesturing her onto a stool in front of a large wooden table. "And spread out your work for me. How long have you been painting?"

"A long time," she said falteringly, beginning to detach her canvases from each other. "My father taught me the basics before he died. Then I experimented on my own for a long time, with all of his old supplies. My mother wasn't willing to buy me any of my own even before she married Robert... he's my stepfather. When I got to high school, I started taking art as my elective course, and the teacher really helped me. I was able to use the art room as a studio space."

"Well, you'll be able to use this art room as a studio space now," Ed said, looking about the place. "I've taken a few young artists under my wing over the years, and they've all benefited from having a place such as this to work in. Plenty of inspiration all about, and one only has to stroll outside to see the latest and the greatest hanging up on the walls. So. I suppose you've worked in acrylic?"

"Yes, mainly." Lila smoothed her first painting across the surface of the table. "These are me and my friends. I also brought the reference image, so you can hopefully see the resemblance..."

She fumbled with her phone. Ed was studying the painting.

"Beautiful lines," he said, pausing to look at the photo. "Oh, yes, I see the resemblance. You certainly have an attention to detail... have you tried much sketch art or charcoal?"

"No." Lila blushed. "I stuck with painting mostly, because it was what my father did."

"Ah, well, we've got to get you started on some other tracks, too." Ed had produced a little notebook from his pocket and was jotting down notes. "Let me see the others, please."

She unfolded the next two, examples of a still life and a landscape.

"Not your strong suit, are they?" he asked, giving them a careful look. "Well, we can work on that."

"This last one is a little bit personal," she said, her cheeks warming as she unrolled the painting of her forearm.

"Ah, this would be the one Cameron mentioned to me first," Ed said. His eyes drank it in, and then he looked at her. "It shows real thematic promise, Lila. I hope that you can see that, too. Now... let's set up some hours in which you can come to work here, and I can teach you, and then I'll show you around."

"I appreciate you meeting with me," Lila said hesitantly. "But I'm not sure if I can afford taking lessons and using your space. My mother and stepfather aren't exactly supportive, you see."

"Yes, but other people are, and before you get up in arms about your boyfriend paying your way, he isn't," Ed said. He gave her a long look. "I want to do this for you for posterity's sake, and also because I believe that you have a promising future. It's no sweat off my back to allow a disadvantaged young artist some space in which to work and some tips and tricks of the trade. If you feel you must repay me, I can teach you how to do some work in acquisitions, and you can become an assistant to me like your father was before you. But I encourage you to allow yourself some time to settle in before that. Enjoy the workspace. Let your ideas flow freely. Then you can think about repayment."