The Pleasure Chest. Jule Mcbride
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we’re worried.” Her mother’s voice came over the answering machine, but Tanya barely heard. She was squinting at Shattered World, one of the pieces for her exhibit. All the works were of New York landscapes seen from unusual perspectives. To her right, the Empire State building was viewed as if in a fish-eye lens. To her left, was a huge black canvas in which the Jersey skyline could be seen in a tiny, off-center white dot. In Shattered World, a fractured skyline was connected by a fine stream of golden light. Light seemed to traverse the whole world of the painting, glowing like a halo.
He’d inspired the light.
She’d been lying in bed, staring at the duel, which she’d hung on the wall that faced her bed, when suddenly, the inspiration had come to her. Now, she was even more convinced the painting she’d bought was special.
“Dad is as worried as I,” her mother was saying. “You know how he was hoping to see Brad, but it’s been two months since you’ve brought him for dinner.”
“We broke up,” Tanya called to the machine.
“Come next week,” her mother continued. “And why don’t you get voice mail? Your father and I think you might have a machine so you can screen our calls, but we know you wouldn’t do that to us.”
“Lay on the guilt,” Tanya said, stepping back from the canvas as her mother hung up. Yes…it was as if her whole internal world was shattered, but also touched by wild cords of energy and light.
Suddenly she smiled. Even now, she could feel his eyes on her back. Glancing over her shoulder, she sent her mystery admirer an inviting look. Since she was wearing only a half buttoned, paint-splotched smock over panties, she twitched her butt for good measure. She’d learned not to dress when she painted, since she always ruined what she wore. As it was, cobalt-blue streaked across her bare thigh.
Suddenly she frowned and tilted her head. Was someone downstairs? No…it was after hours, and the shop was closed. Wincing, she thought of the upcoming two weeks during which James was closing for vacation. She got creeped out when he left town. “James?” she yelled.
No answer. But something seemed…strange. Off-kilter. As if someone else was here with her. She glanced around. Large by Manhattan standards, her upstairs space was identical in layout to the shop downstairs. Bathed in light from floor-to-ceiling windows, it had cinder-block walls and scarred wood floors. Her bed was in a corner she referred to as the bedroom. Nearby, a Chinese-inspired screen blocked a rack of clothes, obscuring the door leading downstairs, if she was lying in bed. A tiny room with the toilet was in another corner. In the final corner, was a shower stall with a glass door.
Glass…through which she kept feeling watched. Putting down her paintbrush, Tanya headed toward the picture. On impulse, she picked up an old Polaroid camera on the bedside table, snapped a picture of the painting, then chuckled softly, wondering what she was doing. “Are you still watching me?” she teased as the phone rang again.
The answering machine activated. “It’s Izzie. Marlo and I want to know what’s happened to you. You weren’t at yoga. You weren’t at dance class. What’s his name?”
“Who knows?” Tanya said, smiling. She sidestepped, then danced in front of the picture, toying with a smock button.
“More likely than dating a real man, you’re playing with all those sex toys we bought,” Izzie teased. “If he is real, however, remember that girlfriends get all the dirty details. You’ll be giving them to us tonight…since you haven’t forgotten Marlo’s anniversary dinner in an hour.”
Dinner! Tanya never forgot events like this! It was a year since Marlo’s divorce, so they were celebrating. Racing forward, she snatched the phone, but the line was dead. “Maybe everybody’s right! I really am falling off the map! And it’s your fault.” She glared at the man in the painting as she unbuttoned the smock, let it fall to the floor, then shed her panties. The eyes followed her. She’d seen eyes like this in paintings before. But usually such paintings were of religious figures, and they just had a way of making her feel guilty.
Not so, this guy. Heat prickled her nape, and she damned Izzie for mentioning the toy chest at the foot of her bed. After Brad, Izzie and Marlo had insisted that Tanya buy toys to amuse herself, they’d spent an afternoon laughing, cruising novelty shops. Tanya had bought everything from body paints to ribbed, neon condoms and vibrators, all things she’d never use. The vibrating fingertips, however…
A moment later, the ten tiny sleeves were on her fingers, and when she switched on a wrist pack, each began vibrating gently. Her throat constricted as she traced the skin of her belly, keeping her eyes on the man. Had he been real? Or a figment of imagination? If he was real…what had he been like? Married? Single? What had he done for a living?
Shutting her eyes, she let her head drop back on her neck, working out stiffness and kinks, even though she knew this ridiculous indulgence was going to make her late for dinner. Her pulse quickened as she imagined his fingers touching her. Yes…she was in the picture with him now. He was her lover, and they were alone in the clearing. Already, he’d removed her clothes, and as she lay on her bed, she imagined he was urging her onto soft green grass and parting her legs.
Moments later, she was in ecstasy.
“REMARKABLE,” one of James’s steady clients, Eduardo, said a few days later. Tanya had brought the painting downstairs, to Treasured Maps, hoping the Weatherby’s buyer could suggest someone capable of cleaning it.
“I only want it cleaned,” she assured, propping the painting on a fully stocked bar James kept in a corner of the shop. Like James, most of his clients were connoisseurs of more than old maps, so James kept vintage wines and whiskey stored in the basement. “I could never afford restoration,” Tanya continued as James joined her and Eduardo at the bar. “Besides, the painting is only of sentimental value, from a junk store.”
“From Finders Keepers,” James said to Eduardo.
Tanya’s heart quickened when she saw Eduardo’s eyes glint with appraisal. Withdrawing manicured hands from the pockets of a gray, custom-made suit, Eduardo thrust them through wavy black hair. He was well over six feet tall and slender. By contrast, sandy-haired James was a short, plump teddy bear of a man.
“When you’re finished looking at Tanya’s painting,” James said, “you must see my new Henry Pople map. It’s dated from London in 1733, and…”
His voice trailed off when Eduardo whistled. A magnifier appeared and Eduardo stepped closer. “Remarkable,” he murmured once more. “I see a trace of carnelian. Maybe a signature.” He glanced at James. “Can you spare the shop today?”
While some of James’s clients came by appointment, most didn’t, which meant he could close anytime he wished. “Why?”
“So you and Tanya can come to Weatherby’s. My restoration team can use infrared and other techniques to show what exists beneath what’s visible to our eyes.”
Tanya’s heart skipped a beat. “You think it might be valuable?”
Eduardo nodded. “I’m sure it’s a Stede O’Flannery.”
TANYA HAD NEVER heard of Stede O’Flannery, but everyone at Weatherby’s had. She glanced around the restoration room of the auction house, glancing up as Eduardo reentered the room, a file tucked beneath his arm.
“Congratulations. There’s no signature, but under the paint, our team found a stamp showing the receipt of sale to O’Flannery. He purchased the canvas, and the painting style is his, so we’ll be able to sell it as an authenticated masterpiece.”
Was he joking? This was every junk store shopper’s dream, and the kind of bargain-hunting adventure for which James and Eduardo lived. Izzie and Marlo were going to be green with envy. Suddenly guilt sliced through her. “But the proprietress of Finders Keepers. She’d never have sold it if she’d known…”
Eduardo shot Tanya a long-suffering glance that