The man paused for an instant, as if not sure of what to do next. His eyes dropped to the floor for a split second before darting away from Mary, a clear giveaway that he had interpreted Mary’s short answer as a sign that she had no intentions of having a conversation with a total stranger, and her silence was a hint for him to leave her alone – and that was exactly what he was about to do when Mary surprised him.
‘I’m Mary, by the way,’ she said, offering her hand and a new smile that was shy, but inviting.
The man smiled back as he reached out for her hand. ‘I’m Thomas. It’s a pleasure to meet you.’
His handshake was firm, confident, but not in a businesslike way.
Mary’s eyes, once again, stayed on Thomas’ face for longer than she had intended, but this time, her forehead creased into a slight frown.
‘Do…’ Thomas gently touched his own face with the tips of his fingers. ‘Do I have something on my face?’
‘No,’ Mary replied. ‘Not at all… it’s just that you don’t look like a Thomas.’
It was Thomas’ turn to frown. ‘Don’t I?’ The frown was followed by a half smile. ‘What would you say that I look like then?’
‘I don’t know,’ Mary returned the smile. ‘A Maximilian… or maybe an Ambrose?’
Thomas laughed, but paused a second or two later, as Mary held on to her poker face. ‘What? You’re serious? Ambrose? Really?’
Mary couldn’t hold it any longer. The surprise in Thomas’ face caused her to burst out into laughter.
There was a small delay before Thomas followed suit. ‘Damn! You really had me there. I thought you were serious.’
‘When I was a young girl, in school,’ Mary explained, ‘I had a teacher called Thomas… and you look nothing like him. Now, every time I hear the name Thomas, that’s the image that forms in my mind. That’s why I said you don’t look like a Thomas. I meant no offense.’
‘Oh, none taken. Don’t worry… and that’s a very common type of memory association,’ Thomas admitted. ‘We all do it on one level or another.’ He paused for a quick second, as if considering what to say next. ‘Did you like that teacher, Thomas, when you were in school?’
Mary pressed her lips tightly together for an instant. ‘I hated him with all my might.’
They both broke into laughter for a second time.
Mary couldn’t help thinking that Thomas truly did have an odd sort of magnetism that she was finding hard to fight. Even his voice carried a certain attractive quality with it – husky, but not excessively so – the kind of voice that wouldn’t be out of place narrating a nature documentary.
‘Did you like anything enough to buy it?’ he asked, bringing the subject back to the exhibition they were in. ‘Veils of Darkness, perhaps?’
Another smile from Mary, this one accompanied by an eyebrow lift. ‘I decided to skip that one.’ She pointed to Betsy’sReflectionpainting on the wall to their right. ‘But I did like this piece very much. Unfortunately, I missed it by minutes apparently. I tried to charm the gallery owner… even offered him over the asking price, but no – he wasn’t having it.’
‘Oh yeah,’ Thomas agreed. ‘I liked that one too… very complex.’ He then indicated the piece that Mary was looking at when he approached her –Fragmented. ‘This one is also very nice… very powerful.’
‘Oh damn!’ Mary said, consulting her watch. ‘I was just thinking about getting this one, but I’ve got to rush before the exhibition closes.’
‘Good choice.’ Thomas also checked his watch. ‘And yeah, this whole thing will close in just under five minutes, but there’s no real rush. If the piece hasn’t sold, they’ll still sell it to you after the exhibition has closed.’
‘Right.’ Mary made no attempt to hide the sarcasm in the way she nodded. ‘That’s exactly how I missed out on that piece.’ She pointed at theReflectionpainting again.
‘Point taken,’ Thomas accepted.
‘Mary,’ Betsy called from the door to the room, grabbing Mary and Thomas’ attention. They were the only two left in that room. ‘I’ve been looking for you.’ She joined them by her own painting. ‘The exhibition is closing in about four minutes. Did you…’ Her eyes moved to Thomas and she went quiet.
Awkward facing each other situation – take three.
‘Betsy,’ Mary said, noticing the odd moment and wondering if she had done the exact same thing earlier. ‘This is Thomas.’ Her attention skipped to him. ‘Thomas, this is Betsy Fletcher.’
Thomas’ head tilted slightly right, as he recognized the name. ‘You’re the artist.’
Betsy’s smile was a little shy. ‘I am. Yes.’
‘Great pleasure to meet you,’ Thomas said, shaking Betsy’s hand. ‘You’re very talented. This was easily my favorite room tonight.’
