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“Take your time. I’m not upset. You had bills to pay. I understand.”
“Well. I sold the painting, your painting, for two point five million dollars.” Libby gulps then quickly follows up with, “And I want you to have it. Take the money because it’s yours.”
Libby is so serious and earnest when she says this, I have to stop myself from laughing. She is so adorable. I walk over to her and wrap her in my arms.
“Libby, my darling. You are an angel,” I breathe into her hair.
“Wait a minute.” She pulls away from me. “You’re not angry?”
“No. Why should I be?”
“Because I gave away your very expensive gift. Something I should have treasured.”
“Libby. Listen.” I wrap her in my arms again. “It was yours. I gave it to you to do with as you pleased. You needed cash? You sold it. I’m happy that it was worth two and a half million. That’s very cool. But, if you needed money, why didn’t you ask me?”
“You would be the last person I would ask.” Libby laughs. “Gianni Moretti, my grumpy boss? Anyway, I still want you to have the money… or most of it. There’s more than I need, so…”
Libby doesn’t finish her sentence because I have pulled her to me, and I am holding her tightly and we are kissing with renewed passion. The city lights swirl around mingling with the stars. Traffic noise and distant sounds drift, as if from another galaxy.
Chapter 36
Olivia
Iamwalkingonair. My dreams have all come true. I’m not kidding.
There was a time when my whole life was about collecting and selling other people’s art instead of making it. Now, I’m happy to say, I am immersed in creating my own paintings, drawings, and sculpture. It's not hard. Every day I find new ways of telling a story using visual means. I am in the most idyllic place, living in the middle of the Tuscan countryside on Gianni’s vineyard, and I’m loving every golden minute.
Things have moved along pretty fast since the night of my solo show in Brooklyn. It was a sell-out. Mrs Peabody, Gloria, is worth her weight in Renaissance artifacts the way she handled everything. She is a dynamo. Media coverage was everywhere on multiple channels. The response was phenomenal. I have commissions from here to next year and offers coming in left and right. Gloria says she does these things for the thrill of it. She doesn’t need the cash. She waves the idea away with a flick of her manicured fingers. She enjoys supporting up-and-coming artists: her talent is spotting new talent, she says. And I am so extremely grateful.
Looking back, the opening night of the show is a happy colorful blur in my memory: my paintings under spotlights; the excited buzz from the guests; the nighttime drive in the yellow Lamborghini with Gianni; the kiss. Oh, the kiss with Manhattan sparkling across the Brooklyn Bridge.
After I confessed about selling his painting, we stop kissing long enough for Gianni to tell me about his plans for a rundown vineyard.
“Libby, I know your life is here in New York and your work is just taking off but,” Gianni turns to face me he holds my hands in his. “I have sold the gallery because I want to make a life in Tuscany.”
“Oh. That’s… umm… interesting,” I say, surprised, but trying to conceal what the implications of this announcement could mean.
“What I mean to say is… Libby, the vineyard is a beautiful place. It needs some work, and I will learn about winemaking, and we can have a gallery there to sell your paintings. And the house is alright. It’s not a palazzo, but it is comfortable, and we can make it our home.”
“Gianni. What are you saying?” I feel emotion rising to my cheeks. My hands cover my mouth.
“Libby. What I want is for you to come and be with me… I know this idea might be too much. But I have been thinking about it for…” Gianni gently pulls my hands away from where they are clamped to my face. “For a long time. And, it’s you, Libby. It has only been you.” He kisses my fingertips sending a quiver of warmth through me. “It has always been you, from the first moment I saw you.”
I am stunned. My eyes are wide and filling up fast with salty tears. A vivid and exuberant picture of me living in Italy with Gianni, the man of my dreams, flashes onto my internal kaleidoscope.
“Libby. Olivia Morgan. I adore you.” Gianni steps a pace away from me and, reaching into his pocket, he retrieves a small box. He drops down to one knee in front of me then he opens the box revealing a sparkling ring inside. “Please. Marry me.”
Even in the half-light with the city behind, Gianni’s brow is furrowed with concern. The ring glitters on its satin cushion. I hear myself yelp with excitement but it takes about three seconds for me to form my answer.
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” I say flinging my arms around his neck and launching an avalanche of kisses as if need to show him, without a doubt, exactly what I mean.
Gianni stands to hold me and kisses me back. Then he pulls the ring carefully from its little box. A somber moment follows as I hold out my hand and Gianni places the diamond ring on my finger where it sparkles with the city lights and stars.
Almost exactly a year to the day later, Gianni Moretti and I were married in the stone church of Santa Maria in the tiny village of Panzano, near the Moretti family home in Tuscany. Luisa was my bridesmaid, of course. She was allowed to skip school to make the trip. She traveled over with Gloria, Desmond, Sandy, and Henry.
Gloria’s ‘medical condition’ wasn’t mentioned. Perhaps she has made a miraculous complete recovery from her undisclosed ailment and was given the green light by her doctor to travel. I don’t know, but I am thrilled she felt well enough to take a plane.
With my friends all booked to come to my wedding, I voiced my concern that there was no one to take care of Contessa. But Sandy and Desmond assured me that my ex-cat had been taken care of. She was transported in luxury to the Peabody Mansion where she had an army of staff who were on hand to cater to her every need.
