Page 7 of Champagne Nights

She placed her hand slightly above his elbow, and before she walked away, she spoke, “It was very nice to meet you, Mr. Klein. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

I watched as the two of them walked away. My fist involuntarily clenched itself. I turned and looked at the painting again, recalling her words, “Even in a world of darkness, you will always see light.” As I was standing there, Charles walked over to me.

“Why are you still standing here?” he asked.

“Because I’m going to buy this painting.”

“Seriously? Why that one?”

“It’s special.”

“How?” He arched his brow at me.

“It just is.”

“Good for you.” He patted my back. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll fetch us a glass of champagne.”

I looked at the door and saw Aubrey and her friend walking out—a feeling stirred inside me. Clenching my jaw, I took in a deep breath as a woman approached me.

“I noticed you’ve been standing here staring at that painting. I’m Penelope, the artist who painted the portrait.”

“Nice to meet you, Penelope.” I extended my hand. “I’m Ethan Klein. The portrait is beautiful, and I would like to buy it.”

“You’ve made an excellent choice. This happens to be one of my favorites.” She smiled.

“The girl in the painting. I just met her a little bit ago.”

“You met Aubrey? She’s a wonderful woman.”

“She’s very nice, and I was hoping you could give me her phone number. That is if she has a phone.”

Penelope laughed. “Of course, she has a phone.”

“She told me she was blind, so I wasn’t sure.”

“Just because she’s blind, Mr. Klein, doesn’t mean that she stopped living life. She can do more than a person who has their sight can. May I ask why you want her number?”

“I asked her out for a drink, and she declined. But I don’t want to accept that. I want to get to know her better.”

“Aubrey steers clear of men. She’s had her heart broken, and to be honest, guys are just dicks when it comes to someone like her. If you’re looking for a one-night stand or something, she’s not your girl. I’m very protective of my best friend.”

“I understand that, but even though she told me she was blind, it doesn’t change the fact that I would like to take her out. She didn’t scare me off.”

She sighed. “I won’t give you her number without her permission, but I will tell you something. Tomorrow is Saturday, and she goes to Shakespeare Garden in Central Park every Saturday morning around nine o'clock to read for a while.”

“By herself?” I asked as I cocked my head.

“Yes. By herself. She isn’t handicapped, Mr. Klein.”

“I didn’t say she was.” I narrowed my eyes at her.

“If you want to talk to her, you’ll find her there. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll have the gallery take the painting down and wrap it up for you.”

“Thank you. One more thing: please do not tell her that I purchased this painting.”

Her brows furrowed as she bit down on her bottom lip. “I won’t, and don’t you be telling her that I told you where she goes on Saturdays.”

“I won’t. You have my word.”

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