Charles de Lint - Forests of the Heart

Trying to explain it to him had made her feel terrible, but at least their break-up hadn’t been acrimonious. They’d actually had been able to stay friends—were better friends for what they’d gone through, perhaps, though she also knew that he was still more than a little enamored with her. She kept hoping he’d fall in love again, with someone who could love him back as much as he deserved. It hadn’t happened yet.

“But enough about you,” Donal said. “Let’s talk about me for a change.”

Ellie smiled at him over the rim of her coffee mug.

“No, seriously,” he said. “What made your morning lousy?”

She told him about Henry Patterson and had to force herself to calm down all over again, just repeating the story.

“So now it’s your turn to say ‘I told you so,’ ” she said when she finished up.

“Not a chance,” Donal said. “Unlike you, I’m far too polite to rub it in. Except… well, I did tell you so.”

Ellie nodded. “Don’t I remember. ‘Been there, done that, it doesn’t work out in the long run,’ ” she quoted back at him.

“And it’s hard work,” Donal said. “It’s one thing pleasing yourself, and then maybe selling what you’ve done. Quite another being so bloody subject to the vagaries of your clients’ whims.”

“I know,” Ellie said. “And when you deal with someone like Patterson, you feel like all you’ve been doing is wasting your time.”

“I used to feel like that,” Donal told her. “But then I realized that I was getting paid to practice my craft. Not necessarily my own art, but at least I was learning what I could do with the tools at my disposal.”

Ellie moved her coffee mug out of the way as the waiter approached with her breakfast.

“The thing is,” Donal went on while she began to eat, “you’ll meet some grand folks doing portrait and commissioned work, but some of the punters are so bad you just want to chuck it all and get an office job. Sounds like your man Patterson’s one of those.”

Ellie gave him a glum nod of agreement. She dipped a piece of toast in the yolk of her egg, but didn’t lift it to her mouth.

“Do you think he’ll really sic a lawyer on me?” she asked.

Donal shook his head. “It wouldn’t be worth his while. The bloody lawyer’d cost him way more than your deposit. There’d be no profit in it and from what you say, Patterson would be one to want a profit.”

“Except he could do it for meanness,” Ellie said. She put the bite of toast in her mouth.

“There’s that,” Donal told her. “I don’t know your man at all, but if he’s got the connections he says he does, you could find your commissions in the business sector drying up.”

“What can I do?”

“I’ve told you before. You need to do a show. It doesn’t have to be a big deal, but you have to get your own work out there for the public to see. Build up a reputation in the real world, not with corporate punters like Patterson. You know, the kind of man who likes to think that even his shite smells lovely and will turn him a profit.”

“But I’ve got nothing to show. And what would I live on while I was getting enough together to do a show?”

“Well… “Donal said.

He let the word hang there. Ellie waited a moment, then she realized what he was getting at.

“You think I should go up to Kellygnow,” she said.

Donal nodded. “And find out what the mysterious Musgrave Wood has to offer.”

“It might be nothing like you’re thinking,” Ellie told him. “With the caliber of artists that’s usually in residence there, I doubt there’d be either a commission or a residency in the offing.”

“I think you’re selling yourself short.”

“Butstill…”

Donal wouldn’t let it go. “Until you follow up on it…”

“I won’t know.” Ellie sighed. “I hate this kind of thing. I’d have no idea what to say.”

“If it’ll make you feel any better, I’ll come up with you.”

“Really?”

He gave her one of his rare smiles. “Sure. And who knows? Maybe your man Wood—”

“Who’s actually a woman.”

“Maybe she’ll offer me a gig, too.”

Ellie laughed. “Maybe she will.”

“So that’s settled then. We’ll run by Kellygnow first thing tomorrow.”

Ellie immediately had a flutter of anxiety.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe we should wait for a weekday.”

“And maybe we should wait until Riverdance becomes a weekly sitcom—which for all I know, might actually happen, and I wonder, would your man Whelan be pleased with that? But we won’t. You have to seize the cow by the horns.”

“You mean ‘bull.’ ”

He got a mischievous look in his eyes. “Strike while the peppers are hot.”

Ellie didn’t bother to correct him this time.

“All right, already” she said. “No more mangled phrases. We’ll go tomorrow.”

“That’s grand. Maybe nothing’ll come of it. But maybe you’ll look back on this as one of those pivotal moments that changed your life.”

“For the better,” she said.

She was finished her meal now. Stacking her plate on top of Donal’s, she pushed them both to the edge of the table and looked around for the waiter, wanting a refill on her coffee.

“Well, of course,” Donal said. “I’m glad we got that settled.”

She turned to look at him. “Now why can’t I shake the feeling that I’ve just been manipulated into this?”

Donal would only offer her a look of perfect innocence in return.

“Admit it,” she said. “You just wanted to satisfy your own curiosity about this Kellygnow business, didn’t you?”

“I had nothing to do with your man Patterson going all mad on you.”

“I didn’t say you did. But I can tell by the tone of your voice that you’re pleased with how this all turned out, all the same.”

“What sort of tone of voice?”

“A satisfied one.”

“Jaysus, Mary, and Joseph.”

“And your accent gets stronger, too.”

“Will you give it a rest, woman.”

The waiter showed up at their table with a coffee pot just then, interrupting her attempt to get Donal to confess. She asked for some more coffee and her bill. Donal put his hand over the top of his cup when the waiter offered him a refill.

“Are you working for Angel tonight?” he asked when the waiter had left.

Ellie shook her head. “Tommy and I aren’t on again until Monday. Why?”

“It’s that gig of Miki’s tonight. She’s playing at the Crowsea Community Center—filling in for some band that was originally booked to play. We should go. There’ll be music and Guinness and all the finer things in life.”

“From the way you were going on earlier, I’d think seeing Miki play would be the last thing you’d want to do.”

Donal gave her a look of complete indignation.

“Jaysus, woman,” he said. “She’s my sister. And a bloody fine accordion player when she doesn’t mess around with all that jazzy shite. It’s my duty and pleasure to give her all the support I can.”

“We are talking about you and Miki here, aren’t we?”

“Unless the Queen of Sheeba’s taken up playing the box.”

Ellie gave up. “Okay. I’ll go already.”

“I don’t know,” Donal said, mournfully now. “Maybe you shouldn’t. You might find it so dreadfully dull you’ll barely be able to keep your eyes open. You could have the worst time ever and then you’ll have to blame it all on me.”

“What I should do,” she said, holding up a fist between them, “is give you a good solid bang alongside your head.”

Donal slid his chair back so that he was out of range. That rare smile of his lit up his face, and all she could do was laugh.