Free Too Damn Rich by Judith Gould Page A

other.
    "Well? Which of you shall it be?"
    Kenzie didn't hesitate. "Arnold," she
said.
    "Kenzie," Arnold said simultaneously.
    All three of them sat there in stunned
silence before bursting into spontaneous laughter.
    "In all seriousness," Kenzie insisted
solemnly once they'd stopped laughing, "Arnold's far more
knowledgeable about the seventeenth century than I am."
    "Yes, but you're the expert when it comes to
the eighteenth," Arnold told her. "And, you display far better
leadership abilities, and are by leaps and bounds more diplomatic
than I could ever be."
    "My God!" Mr. Spotts could only shake his
head in exasperated wonder. "Other people would be tearing each
other's eyeballs out for such an opportunity! But you? The two of
you just sit there, insisting that the other is the better
qualified! I must say, never in my entire life have I ever run
across anything quite like this. No, never." Then he frowned
thoughtfully. "Still, we don't have much time in which to decide
this. I have a meeting scheduled with Mr. Fairey for this
afternoon. He shall want my recommendation by then. So?" His eyes
flicked back and forth between them. "Which of you wants to be in
charge?"
    Kenzie and Arnold sat there, silently
digesting what he had just said. In truth, while neither of them
was loath to get promoted, both of them were dedicated
professionals for whom quality was not negotiable—both only wanted
what was best for the art form to which they had dedicated their
lives.
    "If it's all right with you, Kenz," Arnold
said slowly, "I'd rather not be saddled with all the politics.
Besides, you really are the best as far as diplomacy's
concerned."
    "Well, if you're certain," she said
dubiously.
    "Of course I am. You know I'm happiest when
I'm left alone to either pore over art, or thumb through volumes of
dusty reference books. If I'd wanted to deal with management, I
would have joined IBM or AT&T."
    "Well, then." Mr. Spotts sat forward. "Now
that we have that ... umn ... little matter out of the way, there
is one last thing."
    Kenzie looked at him questioningly, but
instead of replying, he reached for the battered old leather
satchel he always lugged around with him, and which was on the
banquette beside him. Unclasping it, he opened it and lifted out
two small, flat packages wrapped in plain brown paper and secured
with Scotch tape. Looking slightly embarrassed, he handed one
across the table to Kenzie, and the other to Arnold.
    "What's this?" Kenzie asked.
    "Oh ... umn ... just a little ... you know
..." The old man waved a hand dismissively. "Something to remember
me by."
    "Oh, Mr. Spotts!" Kenzie chided. "You
shouldn't have!"
    "But I did, and that is my prerogative.
Well?" He gestured impatiently. "Don't just sit there looking
stupefied. Open them!"
    Kenzie and Arnold tore away the wrapping
papers. Then they sat there, staring at a small framed picture in
stunned silence.
    "Why it's ... it's ..."
    Kenzie's voice deserted her while her eyes
followed every line of the exquisite study of a baby rendered in
pen, brown ink, and a purple wash on blue paper, its effect
heightened here and there with traces of black and white chalk.
    "A Zuccaro!" she finally managed in a breathy
whisper. "The one retouched by Rubens himself!"
    Slowly she raised her eyes and stared across
the table.
    "My God, Mr. Spotts! You know I couldn't
possibly—"
    "Now, now. You not only can, my dear, but you
must. Really, I find this most embarrassing ..." Mr. Spotts glanced
around, visibly distressed. "Yes, yes, most embarrassing indeed
..."
    "And this!" Arnold said shakily.
    Kenzie balanced her weight on the back of
Arnold's chair as she half stood, looking over his shoulder at the
picture in his hands.
    "Tiepolo," she murmured automatically,
needing but one glance at the buff paper with its red chalk and
highlights of black and white. "To be precise," she added,
"Giovanni Battista Tiepolo's Bishop Saint Healing a Young
Woman."
    "All I ask is that you enjoy them,"