Free A Fine Imitation by Amber Brock Page B

me, and that no one enter the pool until the painting is finished.”
    Dull silence greeted this statement, followed by a rumbling murmur that increased in volume. After a stern look from his wife, Clarence Bloomer stood.
    “I understand artistic temperament and all that,” Clarence said, “but my wife has to take her daily exercise in the pool. Doctor’s orders.”
    Hallan nodded. “I know it will be an inconvenience, but I really cannot proceed without privacy while I work. I never let anyone see my work until it’s done. I’m afraid I must insist.”
    The murmur resumed, and Clarence took his seat. Kenneth Harper leaned in to Vera, speaking under his breath. “Yes, you know, I’ve heard of that with artists. Don’t like anyone seeing a work in progress.”
    “I suppose,” Vera said. She looked back to where Hallan stood, but turned away again when she found his eyes fixed on her.
    Arthur stood. “We’ve paid for the man’s passage and lodgings. We should indulge his conditions for work as well, don’t you all think? You’ll have the keys tomorrow.”
    “Thank you.” Hallan turned to the others. “You won’t be disappointed, I promise you.”
    Caroline Litchfield leaned across the table, eyes gleaming. “How delightfully eccentric. Don’t you think so, Vera?”
    “Quite unusual.” Vera accepted a glass of sherry from the waiter at her elbow. A few seats down, Arthur turned cold eyes on Hallan, who chatted with Ida. If the artist felt the stare, he did not acknowledge it.

    Hallan got the keys the next day. Vera assumed he must have put them on a ring, because every time she saw him at a social engagement after that, his pocket jingled as he walked around. And there were many social events. Everyone in the building seemed to want to throw a cocktail party or a dinner in his honor, and Vera wondered when he would find time to do any painting at all. Not that they would know if he was. She passed him making a sketch once, out on the sidewalk, as she waited for the car to take her to Wednesday lunch with her mother. A railing blocked her view of his drawing paper, so she could not satisfy her curiosity about his subject. She worried he would tie her up in conversation if he saw her, but he was so engrossed in his work that he never looked up.
    At the many social functions, however, he felt free to approach Vera, and did so earlier and earlier each time. The first welcome event after Vera’s dinner was a cocktail party at the Bloomers’. When the excitement of redoing her living room had waned, Ida Bloomer had purchased an authentic Egyptian sarcophagus. Everyone had gone mad for Egyptian artifacts and decor after the discovery the previous year of King Tut’s tomb, but Ida’s passion surpassed them all. A recent fashion show highlighting Egyptian style had further increased her ardor. Her celebration in honor of the artist would be her second Egyptian-themed party since March, and this time she would have the sarcophagus as the focal point.
    Vera dutifully put on a gold and black dress and her large blue scarab pendant. She asked Marguerite to darken her eyes with kohl and to weave a gold ribbon into her elaborate hairstyle. Arthur refused to dress up for theme parties. Costumes were, in his words, “for children.” He met Vera at their front door in a plain black suit.
    Even the most enthusiastic of the other men seemed to have tired of theme nights as well. When Vera and Arthur entered Ida’s drawing room, all except one of the men were dressed in suits. Clarence, however, sported a huge golden headdress that matched Ida’s. Vera imagined it was one of two concessions he had made to the theme. The other had to be the swoops of sapphire- and ruby-colored fabrics hanging over the party, and the painted wooden panels with hieroglyphics that stood beside the tall windows.
    She kept a healthy distance from the sarcophagus but still had a clear view of it despite the guests milling around. It stood