Mona Lisa My Love

Chapter Thirty-Two

The following Wednesday I didn't have to work, so as promised, I took the painting to the gallery. I called for an Uber driver because I didn't want something to happen to it on the trip over. I had one driver that I liked, but today I couldn't get him. Instead, the driver was a pleasant lady. Her Prius was clean, and she had a basket of drinks and fresh cookies on the back seat. I was too anxious to eat anything, but I must say the chocolate chip cookies smelled and looked terrific. Chocolate chip is my favorite cookie, but to be fair, I love desserts of any kind.

I wasn't in a talkative mood, but she had a way that made things more comfortable for me. We ended up talking about the painting and my nervousness about having it looked at by a gallery owner. She asked me why I was taking it at all if I was so nervous. I told her that a girl I had met had asked me to bring it to the gallery. It sounded strange to me, so I could only imagine how weird she thought it was. What was I thinking? I decided I was going to turn around and go home when she announced that we had arrived.

I took an agonizing breath and got out. I took the card the driver handed me and looked at it to see that her name was Marisol. She said good luck today, and I said thanks. Marisol then told me her personal cell number was on the back of the card. I looked at her, but my head was somewhere else. It is times like this Jenny tells me that I am clueless. I said goodbye to Marisol and turned to walk into the gallery, but I stopped long enough to give her a five-star rating.

The small gallery was immaculate inside. It was one high-end gallery, I decided. I looked at some of the paintings on display. I recognized a few of them, as well as some of the artists. What was I doing here? All this was so far over my head. I was about to leave when a well-dressed man about my age came from somewhere and asked, "Can I help you?" The man looked at me over his glasses and sounded very snobbish. He was looking at the bundle I was carrying. It was obviously a painting, but I assumed they got uninvited artists' work all the time. It would be a significant accomplishment to be on display here, I thought.

"I am not sure," I said. The young man was frowning now. I am sure he thought I was wasting his time.

"Well, what do you want? I assume that is a painting," he said even more condescendingly if that was even possible.

"Yes," was all I could get out.

"May I see it?" he asked, in a real city style of sarcasm.

The corners of my lips turned up slightly because I always found that type of snootiness to be funny. I could never figure out why. Maybe I am whacked. I unwrapped the painting, and I thought the man's jaw was going to drop off.

He held his hand to his face and exclaimed, "Oh, my God. Oh, my God!" As his voice raised to an even higher pitch.

I started to think something was wrong with the painting. I began to cover it back up. I knew this was a mistake. I should go.

"Wait," he said. "Please wait. Mr. Taylor will want to see this. Please, do not go anywhere. I will be back in a minute. Promise you will not go anywhere." He didn't sound condescending now. He seemed frantic. I was curious as to his change of attitude. Surely this painting had nothing to do with it.

"All right. I won't go anywhere. Would it be all right if I looked around? You have some very nice works of art here,"

He gave me a funny look but said, "Help yourself. Just don't leave, please."

"Thanks." As I looked at the paintings on the wall, I saw two Pollock's, a Richter, an abstract by Frank Stella, along with so many others, both living and dead artists.

"Hello, young man," said a neatly dressed man in a suit. He looked to be in his late thirties or early forties. "I am Mr. Taylor, and I understand you would like me to look at your painting. My young assistant here says I will want to see it, and since he is an art major at the university, I respect his judgment. There is an empty stand over here for you to place it on so I can take a good look." He was polite but very formal.