Going Home Ch. 04

"Before he left more than three, long years ago, but for a few portraits of your mother that he wanted to save for you should he ever find you, he commissioned me to sell them all. Honestly, with him only painting portraits of Elizabeth, and with him pining over the loss of her and painting portraits of her over and again, I couldn't sell the ones I already had. With his portraits works of art before, his paintings suddenly lack his passion, his love, and his heart and soul," said Joyce.

"He was a mess when I first met him and then as if he was electrified, he suddenly came more alive and animated. He always came by for coffee and a slice of apple pie where I worked while he sketched me. Those are times that I'll cherish for the rest of my life," said Ginny.

"He told me how he had found you after being given a lead from his detective agency. Falling out of favor with his following, because of you, he had a resurgence of interest when he started painting pictures of you," she said. "Not wanting to keep them there in his loft in Detroit for fear that they'd be stolen or destroyed in a fire, every month he'd send me a new shipment of portraits. With one portrait better than the other, he was painting with passion again because of you."

"I see," said Ginny. "Even I can see the difference in some of his work now to the ones he painted 30 years ago."

Ginny studied the painting of his mother while comparing them to the portraits he did of her.

"He painted you with a new found passion in the way he painted your mother more than 30 years ago. With you reenergizing his passion for painting, he was so happy that he found you. No doubt not wanting to spoil the natural friendship that blossomed between you was the reason why he didn't tell you that you were his daughter. He feared you'd be angry with him and wouldn't want to see him anymore. Now popular again, especially after his death, most of his paintings sell in the five figures with a few selling at auction in the six figures," she said.

Ginny looked at her stunned.

"Wow," said Ginny. "I don't believe all of this. I remember some of these pictures. I remember him sketching them in front of me," she said pulling the sketch from her purse that her father gave her.

Joyce's eyes widened with interest.

"Oh my God," said Joyce accepting the sketch from Ginny. "Is it signed? It is signed," said Joyce examining the signature. "This is worth a lot, an original sketch of you by Jerry Blake. This is so rare. None of these sketches survived. He destroyed them as soon as he started painting from them."

Ginny watched Joyce examine the sketch as if it was a rare stamp and before returning it to Ginny she had one of her assistants wrap it in paper before placing it in a plastic bag.

"I'm just shocked by all of this," said Ginny. "To be honest, in the way he dressed and his disheveled appearance, I thought Jerry was a bum. I thought he was homeless. I never suspected he was a famous artist and I surely didn't know he was my Dad."

Joyce stood to put her hand in her pocket.

"Oh, I nearly forgot," said Joyce. She pulled an envelope from her pocket. "Jerry wanted me to give this to you. It's a bankbook. There's also a stock portfolio in your name too. Your personal banker has all the particulars. Here's his business card. The accounts are all in your name, Virginia Blake. And here's the business card of his lawyer. All his assets, his condo on the wharf, his summer home on Cape Cod, his money, and his cars now all belong to you," said Joyce.

"I don't believe this," said Ginny.

"You don't have to work as a waitress anymore. People will be waiting on you," said Joyce with a smile. "Until you get settled, no more YWCA for you," she said with a laugh. "I've arranged a suite at the Four Seasons. My driver will take you there and tomorrow, I'll take you shopping before taking you to Jerry's condo that overlooks Boston Harbor."

Ginny opened the bankbook to look at the balance. With just this one account, just for being kind to an old man, she was a wealthy woman.

* * * * *

For all of you young, blonde, blue-eyed busty woman, even the plain looking ones, remember to be kind to an old man. A bit of advice, don't even wait for him to ask, just show him your tits. You never know. You just never know.

The End