Page 12 of Bargain with the Bachelor
There was a cash prize involved in the competition, but more importantly, the winning entries received international exposure and an exhibit in New York City prior to the annual awards ceremony.
An honor like that could make a photographer’s career, putting them on the map, certifying them as an artist worth taking note of. It would certainly drive up my asking price per photo at the gallery and for commissioned work.
I’d been outdoors for a while and was thoroughly chilled by the time I headed for home.
The Oceanview Avenue house I’d grown up in was large but less formal than its elegant Gilded Age neighbors, the massive stone palaces Eastport Bay was known for. My father had commissioned an architect to build our home in a classic style that would fit in but be more comfortable for everyday living and much more approachable than those stately museums.
In spite of their fortune, my parents had been very grounded and enjoyed simply being together more than anything money could buy.
I’d never understood how the same man who’d been in love with my down-to-earth mother had also been attracted to material-girl Margot, making her his second wife a year after his first, my mom, had passed away.
Perhaps he’d just been lonely, and remarrying had eased the longing for his late wife.
I could certainly understand that. Even after all these years, I missed Mom fiercely.
I felt closest to her when working in the offices of the Eastport Bay Art Preservation Guild, an organization she founded to maintain and preserve works of public art so they could be enjoyed by future generations.
Caroline Bianco had considered it her life’s work, her calling, and had specified in her will that I should take over running the guild when I came of age.
As soon as I finished school, I began working there full-time. Since money hadn’t been an issue, I’d never taken a salary.
Sharing my mother’s love of fine arts, I’d never minded the long unpaid hours. And my father had been delighted to see me carrying on my mother’s legacy, assuring me that a trust fund would provide for my future and that my unsalaried work at the foundation and my photography pursuits were the most important things I could be doing with my time.
But I didn’t intend to rely solely on my inheritance forever.
No, I was determined to turn my photography into a successful, lucrative career, toearnthe faith my dad had always had in my talent, and I wouldn’t stop until I’d made him proud.
His favorite room had always been the cozy den with its overflowing bookshelves and comfy furniture and oversized fireplace.
That was where I headed now, planning to toast myself in front of the fire until all my extremities were thawed and tingly warm. I was looking forward to a cup of hot tea, a good book, and maybe even a fireside nap.
Margot’s car wasn’t in the drive, which meant she was out as usual. ItwasFriday evening, but she was rarely at home these days, no matter what time or day of the week.
Which was fine with me. Now that Dad was gone, Margot had basically stopped bothering with civility.
It wasn’t so bad. I spent most of my time away from home, anyway, working either at the Guild or doing my photography.
When I was at home, I used very little of the mansion—just my bedroom, bath, and the snug sanctuary of the den, processing my grief one day at a time.
Entering the room, I stopped short, surprised to find Margot there.
The older woman was gazing into the mirror above a console table on one wall, poking at her forehead and cheeks. Based on her frown, there would be another cosmetic procedure in the near future.
She spun to face me, seeming embarrassed to have been caught in self-examination.
“Oh—you’re back. We need to talk, and now we don’t have much time, thanks to all your wandering and nature-worship.” She shot a disapproving glance at my camera bag.
Ooookay then. Don’t let her provoke you. Be nice.
Margot was dressed to go out in a sleek St. John metallic knit gown that appeared to be melted onto her body.
“I’ll be here all night,” I said. “Where areyougoing? Where’s your car?”
“There’s no time to get into it. My date will be here to pick me up in fifteen minutes, which doesn’t give us very long to discuss what’s going on.”
My lungs went flat. I struggled to draw enough air to speak. “You’re going on adate? Daddy just died.”
Margot rolled her eyes. “It’s beentwo months, and if you were smart, you’d be doing the same thing. Believe me, a rich husband solves a lot of problems.”
