Free Beloved by Diana Palmer

promised, and caught
one of the gallery's sales-people alone long
enough to make a request. She seemed puzzled,
but she agreed. He went back to Jill and escorted her out of the gallery, casting one last regretful look toward Tira , who was speaking to a group of socialites at the back
of the gal lery.

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    Beloved
    Diana Palmer
    211

“ Half the works are
sold already," Jill murmured. "I guess she'll make a fortune."
    ''She's donating it all to
charity," he replied absently.
    "She can afford to. It will certainly help her image
and, God knows, she needs that right now."
    He glanced at her. "That isn't
why."
    She shrugged. "Whatever you say, darling. Brrrr , I'm cold! Christmas is week after next, too." She peered up at him. "I
hope you got me something pretty."
    "I wouldn't count on it. I probably won't be in town
for Christ mas," he said not quite
truthfully.
    She sighed. "Oh, well, I might go and spend the
holidays with my aunt in Connecticut. I do love
snow!"
    She was welcome to all she could find of it, he thought.
His heart already felt as if he were buried in snow and ice. He knew that Harry's revelation would keep him awake all
night.
    Tira watched Simon leave with Jill. She was glad he'd gone.
    Perhaps now she could enjoy her show.
    Lillian was giving her strange looks
and when Harry came to
    say goodbye, he
looked rather odd, too. "What's
wrong?" she asked Harry. He started to speak and thought better of
it. Let Simon tell her
    what he wanted her to know. He was
tired of talking about the
    past; it was too painful.
    He smiled. "It's a great show,
kiddo, you'll make a mint." "Thanks,
Harry. I had fun doing it. Keep in touch, won't you?" He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "You know I
will.
    How's Charlie?"
    "His brother-in-law had a heart
attack. He's not doing well." "I'm
really sorry. Always liked Charlie. Still do."
    "I'll tell him you asked about
him," she promised.
    He smiled at her. "You do that.
Keep well."
    "You, too."
    By the end of the evening, Tira was calmer, despite the painful memory of her
argument with Simon's and Jill's catty remarks. She could just
picture the two of them in Simon's lavish apart ment, sprawled all over each other in an ardent tangle. It made her sick. Simon had never kissed her, never
touched her in any thing but an impersonal way. She'd lived like a
religious recluse for part of her life and
she had nothing to show for her reticence except a broken heart and
shattered pride.
    "What a great haul," Lillian enthused, breaking
into her thoughts. "You sold three- forths of them. The rest we'll keep on display for a few weeks and see how they do."
    "I'm delighted," Tira said, and meant it. "It's all going to benefit the outreach program at St. Mark's."
    "They'll be very happy with it,
I'm sure."
    Tira was walking around the gallery with the manager. Most of the crowd had
left and a few stragglers were making their way to the door. She noticed the bust of Simon had a Sold sign on it, and her heart jumped.
    "Who bought it?" Tira asked curtly. "It wasn't Jill Sinclair,
    was it?"
    "No," Lillian assured her. "I'm not sure
who bought it, but I can check, if you like."
    "No, that's not necessary," Tira said, clamping down hard on her curiosity. "I don't care who
bought it. I only wanted it out of my sight.
I don't care if I never see Simon Hart again!"
    Lillian sighed worriedly, but she smiled when Tira glanced to ward her and offered coffee.
    Simon watched the late-night news broadcast from his easy
chair, nursing a whiskey sour, his second in half an hour. He'd taken Jill home and adroitly avoided her coquettish
invitation to stay the night. After what he'd
learned from Harry Beck, he had to be by himself to think things out.
    There was a brief mention of Tira's showing at the gallery and how much money had
been raised for charity. He held his breath,

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but nothing was said about her suicide attempt. He only hoped the newspapers
would be equally willing to put the matter