sheâs reluctant to talk to you, Ralph. She didnât get along with Dad. Sheâs still mad at him.â
âRuby,â said Teddy. Although she was older by only eight minutes, Ruby had always been much more assertive and mature, so naturally Teddy had been more protective of Samantha. As a mother, you played the cards you were dealt. âI donât think Samantha would appreciate your revealing that.â
âProbably not,â Ruby admitted. âBut itâs just so annoying.â
âBy the way, Ralph, did you know you had competition?â Teddy asked him point-blank.
He swallowed his mouthful and looked at her.
âItâs true,â she said. âAnother biographer is writing a book about Oscar; he interviewed me several days ago. Has no one told you?â
âNo,â said Ralph. He lifted his napkin and wiped his lips.
âHis name is Henry Burke. Maybe you know each other.â
âI have never heard his name before now,â said Ralph.
âOh dear,â said Teddy, who was enjoying this a little. âI can see that this is bad news, and Iâm sorry to have to be the one to tell you. He interviewed me just this week.â
âI havenât spoken to him yet,â said Ruby. âWell, except on the phone. So Iâm virgin territory, Ralph; he hasnât gotten to me yet.â
Ralph tried to laugh through his consternation. âDoes heâ¦does he have a book contract, do you happen to know?â
âYes,â said Teddy. âWith Yale University Press.â
âMy contract is with Norton,â said Ralph. âDoes he know about me?â
âI havenât told him,â said Teddy.
âMe, neither, obviously,â said Ruby. âBut I bet Maxine will. Sheâll love playing you both off against each other.â
âOh, we all will,â said Teddy, laughing. âWhy not? Two young men vying for Oscar like vultures over a dead hyenaââ
Ralph laughed ruefully. This time, his laughter suited the scale of the joke.
âAll right,â said Teddy, softening toward him a little now that sheâd sprung bad news on him, âcoffee, anyone? Iâve made a fresh blueberry cake. Itâs still warm, and thereâs ice cream.â
âNo coffee for me, thank you,â said Ralph. âAnd Iâm sorry to say no cake, either; I have to watch my sugar; diabetes runs in my family.â
âToo bad for you,â said Ruby. âMy motherâs blueberry cake could launch ships. Iâll have his piece, too, Mom.â
Teddy got up and went into the kitchen, laden with empty soup bowls and salad plates.
Ruby took a drink of wine, then looked hard at Ralph. âWhatâs your grand theory about my father?â she asked. âI know you have one.â
âMy grand theory about Oscar?â
âCome on.â
âHe was a great painter.â
âObviously, you think that; otherwise, you wouldnât be going to all this trouble. I mean the guiding idea youâre going to marshal these interviews and all your research around.â
âWhat makes you think I have one?â
âI know you have one,â she said. âCome on, what do you think of his work, honestly?â
There was a silence brimming with all sorts of thoughts in both their heads.
âMy only
criticism
of Oscarâs work,â said Ralph slowly after a moment, âif thatâs what youâre looking for, is that his adherence to figuratism made him great and original but paradoxically might have kept him from achieving his full potential. I say
might
âthis is pure hypothetical speculation.
Maybe,
if he had allowed himself to flower into abstraction the way de Kooning did with his female nudes, he would have become both one of the foremost painters of his generation and one of the greatest. As it was, he was simply one of the greatest, which is nothing to sneeze at. But