Free The Great Man by Kate Christensen Page B

she’s reluctant to talk to you, Ralph. She didn’t get along with Dad. She’s still mad at him.”
    â€œRuby,” 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. “I don’t think Samantha would appreciate your revealing that.”
    â€œProbably not,” Ruby admitted. “But it’s just so annoying.”
    â€œBy the way, Ralph, did you know you had competition?” Teddy asked him point-blank.
    He swallowed his mouthful and looked at her.
    â€œIt’s true,” she said. “Another biographer is writing a book about Oscar; he interviewed me several days ago. Has no one told you?”
    â€œNo,” said Ralph. He lifted his napkin and wiped his lips.
    â€œHis name is Henry Burke. Maybe you know each other.”
    â€œI have never heard his name before now,” said Ralph.
    â€œOh dear,” said Teddy, who was enjoying this a little. “I can see that this is bad news, and I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you. He interviewed me just this week.”
    â€œI haven’t spoken to him yet,” said Ruby. “Well, except on the phone. So I’m virgin territory, Ralph; he hasn’t gotten to me yet.”
    Ralph tried to laugh through his consternation. “Does he…does he have a book contract, do you happen to know?”
    â€œYes,” said Teddy. “With Yale University Press.”
    â€œMy contract is with Norton,” said Ralph. “Does he know about me?”
    â€œI haven’t told him,” said Teddy.
    â€œMe, neither, obviously,” said Ruby. “But I bet Maxine will. She’ll love playing you both off against each other.”
    â€œOh, we all will,” said Teddy, laughing. “Why not? Two young men vying for Oscar like vultures over a dead hyena—”
    Ralph laughed ruefully. This time, his laughter suited the scale of the joke.
    â€œAll right,” said Teddy, softening toward him a little now that she’d sprung bad news on him, “coffee, anyone? I’ve made a fresh blueberry cake. It’s still warm, and there’s ice cream.”
    â€œNo coffee for me, thank you,” said Ralph. “And I’m sorry to say no cake, either; I have to watch my sugar; diabetes runs in my family.”
    â€œToo bad for you,” said Ruby. “My mother’s blueberry cake could launch ships. I’ll have his piece, too, Mom.”
    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. “What’s your grand theory about my father?” she asked. “I know you have one.”
    â€œMy grand theory about Oscar?”
    â€œCome on.”
    â€œHe was a great painter.”
    â€œObviously, you think that; otherwise, you wouldn’t be going to all this trouble. I mean the guiding idea you’re going to marshal these interviews and all your research around.”
    â€œWhat makes you think I have one?”
    â€œI know you have one,” she said. “Come on, what do you think of his work, honestly?”
    There was a silence brimming with all sorts of thoughts in both their heads.
    â€œMy only
criticism
of Oscar’s work,” said Ralph slowly after a moment, “if that’s what you’re 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
—this 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