Danielle Steel - Impossible

Chapter 4

Sasha and her children had a wonderful time in St. Moritz, although they teased her mercilessly about Gonzague. They stayed at the Palace Hotel in opulent accommodations. She enjoyed spoiling them once in a while, particularly on vacations. She and Arthur always had. They felt fortunate to be able to, and the trips they had taken were memories they all cherished. St. Moritz that year was one of them.

She skied with the children some of the time, and the rest of the time on her own. Xavier was an outstanding skier, and Tatianna was as skilled as he, just a trifle more sensible and less daring. Both of them met people they went out with at night. And more often than not, Sasha ate dinner in her room alone. She didn't mind. She had brought several books with her, and she didn't want to be part of the nightlife. She was rested, happy, and relaxed, when they went back to Paris. Tatianna only stayed a few days, she wanted to get back to New York to find a job, and Xavier lingered a day or two after she left, and then went back to his studio in London. Before he left, his friend Liam Allison's slides arrived. And much to her surprise and chagrin, they were even better than Xavier had promised. Sasha was impressed, although in order to make a decision about representing him, she needed to see his paintings in the flesh.

“I'll try to come over next week, or maybe the week after,” she told Xavier, and meant it. But it was the last week in January when she finally went to London, to see three of her artists, and meet Liam. She fitted him into her schedule on her last afternoon in London, with some trepidation. The adventures and bad behavior Xavier had described to her did not make her anxious to represent him, but his talent was impossible to ignore. She felt she had to see him. And once in his studio, she was glad she'd come.

Liam let her into the studio himself with a look of anxiety, and a nervous smile. Xavier had accompanied her, and patted his friend on the shoulder to give him courage. He knew how anxious Liam was. Sasha seemed cool and businesslike when she walked in, and almost stern. She had worn black jeans and a black sweater, black boots, her hair looked almost as black as the sweater, and as she often did, she had pulled it tightly back and wound it into a bun. And even as small as she was, Liam thought she looked terrifying when he shook her hand. He knew that whatever she said, or thought, about his work would have an impact on his life forever. If she dismissed it as inadequate, or decided it wasn't worthy of being represented by her gallery, he would feel it almost like a physical blow. As he watched her cross the studio, he felt vulnerable and afraid. She thanked him politely for inviting her to come. He had no way of knowing, despite everything Xavier had said, that what appeared to be coolness to him was in fact that she herself was shy. What interested her was the art, even more than the person. But undeniably, Liam himself was hard to ignore. She had heard too many stories about him from her son. She knew what an outrageous, often badly behaved, person he was. The only mitigating factor, she hoped, was his wife and three children. She thought that he couldn't be totally irresponsible and without merit, if he had a wife and family. Xavier had never suggested that he was promiscuous, only that he was “irrepressible” and a prankster of the first order, and he didn't like being told how to behave. He resisted any effort to modify his behavior, or expectation of his acting like a grown-up, as a form of “control.” According to Xavier, he leaned heavily on the fact that he was an artist, and felt it gave him license not to live by anyone else's rules, and to do anything he wanted. It was a style she wasn't unfamiliar with, but she often found people like him hard to deal with. They worked when they wanted to, played when they didn't, and usually missed their deadlines for shows. Men like him wanted to be treated like children. Apparently, his wife was willing to do that. Sasha wasn't, no matter how handsome or charming he was.

If he was serious about his work, to some extent at least, she expected him to act like an adult, or at least pretend to be one. Given all she'd heard, she wasn't at all sure that Liam was prepared to grow up. And in the end, charming or not, his work would have to speak for itself.

She walked slowly across the studio to where he had hung several large, bright paintings. There were three more smaller paintings set up on easels. Liam's work was stunning and powerful, his use of colors was strong, and the size of his larger canvases made the work even more so. She stood looking at his work for a long time, quietly nodding, while he held his breath. Xavier knew her silence was a good sign, but Liam didn't. Watching her concentrate silently on his work, Liam was dying. He was literally holding his breath when she turned to him finally, and said five words. “It's fantastic. I want it.” Afterward, he admitted to her he nearly fainted with relief. Instead, he let out a war whoop of glee, grabbed her, spun her around, and swept her right off her feet, and was grinning at her when he finally set her down.

“Oh my God, I can't believe it…I love you! Oh my God! I thought you were going to tell me you hated it, and it was utter shit.”

“It's not shit.” She smiled at him, excited for him, and grateful to Xavier for finding Liam and telling her about him. “It's brilliant. Your use of color absolutely makes my heart pound and my eyes water. We can't give you a show for almost a year though. We're overbooked as it is. I want you to open in New York, not Paris.” Paris openings were always quieter. She preferred doing openings of important contemporary work in New York. Xavier also knew that was a good sign, and promised himself to tell Liam later. He didn't want to give away all his mother's secrets while she was standing there. He was thrilled he had made the introduction. He too had been convinced that Liam's work was great, and was relieved and thrilled that his mother agreed.

“Oh my God,” Liam said again, sat down on the floor, and nearly cried. He had been working toward this for nearly twenty years, and now it had finally come. He was going to have a show at Suvery Gallery in New York. It was beyond belief. And Sasha herself was sitting in his studio, and loving his work. She was telling him that he would have to work hard to get ready for the show. “What can I ever do to thank you?” He looked at her like a vision that had just materialized in his studio. He felt like a boy who had seen a virgin with a stigmata.

“Just paint me some good stuff. I brought a contract with me from Paris, just in case. You can show it to a lawyer if you like. There's no rush to get it back.” She never pressured anyone to sign.

“My ass there's no rush. What if you change your mind? Where is it? Just give it to me, I'll sign it.” He was practically flying. As she looked at him, he hardly looked older than her son.

She knew from the bio he had sent her with the slides that he was thirty-nine. Looking at him, she would never have believed it. He had studied with some very important artists, and had had a few minor shows at small galleries. But he looked like a kid. Everything about him seemed loose and free and young. He was tall, lanky, and handsome. He had straight blond hair that hung down his back most of the time. He had tied it in a ponytail to meet her. But his face was smooth and youthful. He had powerful shoulders, long graceful hands, and he bounced around his studio like a teenager in sneakers, blue jeans, and T-shirt, all covered with paint. He towered over her like an anxious child, as he begged her for the contract.

“It's at the hotel,” she told him reassuringly, suddenly sounding like a mother. Now that he was about to become one of her artists, she felt protective of him. “I'll drop it off before I leave, or send it by messenger. I'm not going to change my mind, Liam. I never do that,” she said gently. Her voice was calm, and it touched her that he was so excited. He said this was one of the defining moments of his life. She didn't think it was, but she was happy it meant so much to him. That was what she loved best about showing emerging artists. She was able to give them a chance. She had always loved that about that side of the business, working with young artists like him. Although Xavier was right, he wasn't that young, but he looked it. Everything about him was boyish. He was only nine years younger than she was, but he acted about fourteen, and looked somewhere in his mid-twenties, not thirty-nine. He seemed no older than Xavier to her, and made her feel maternal toward him. “Do you want to show the contract to your wife?” The studio was such a mess it was obvious he didn't live there, and there was no sign of the wife and three children that Xavier had mentioned. She imagined that they lived somewhere else, although his clothes seemed to be strewn everywhere, covered with paint. Obviously, his work clothes. She could only assume that there was a neater, cleaner place elsewhere where they all lived.