‘You must’ve left a great impression because he wanted to give you a present,’ Betsy said, nodding at Mary and indicating the package on the table. ‘But he had no idea of how to get in touch with you.’
‘So, he figured that since we were friends,’ Mary concluded, ‘you’d probably know.’
‘Exactly, but he was very diplomatic about it.’
‘Diplomatic?’ Mary frowned.
Betsy nodded. ‘Yeah… he was very gentleman-like – he never asked me for your number or your address.’ She shrugged. ‘Which I don’t have anyway, but even if I did, I would’ve never given it toanyonewithout clearing it with you first… and he sounded like he knew that. He knew that it would be inappropriate for him to askmeforyournumber, so he never did.’
Mary’s eyebrows arched, showing surprise and interest in equal measures. ‘So, what did he say?’
‘He asked me if it would be OK for him to drop off something, so that I could pass it on to you.’
‘Hum!’ Mary’s attention bounced over to the package for an instant before returning to Betsy.
‘I told him “Yeah, no problem”,’ Betsy continued. ‘So, I gave him the address of the bakery, and he turned up just after lunchtime with this.’ Her chin jerked in the direction of the package. ‘I’ll be honest with you, when he said that he had a gift for you, I thought that he’d turn up with some flowers, or maybe a box of chocolates or something. I wasn’t expecting a painting, which this clearly is. But it makes sense, since he met you at an art exhibition… but that’s not all.’ She lifted her left index finger at Mary while reaching into her back pocket. ‘There’s a card.’ She retrieved a golden envelope – the size of a postcard – and handed it to Mary. There was nothing on the envelope except Mary’s name handwritten in black ink across the front of it.
Mary took it and stared at it for several long and silent seconds.
‘I told you that he was into you!’ Betsy’s smile seemed naughty.
Mary tore open the envelope and pulled out a folded white piece of paper, with a handwritten note on it.
I think this was the one you really liked.
Enjoy.
Thomas
It was clear to see that there was something else on the inside of the folded note – a loose piece of paper, rectangular in shape. Mary unfolded the note to find a printed invitation and second handwritten note.
I’m not sure if you’re free this coming Wednesday,
but if you are, this is an invite to the Grand Opening
of a brand-new exhibition at the Legion of Honor. I
think that this is something you might really enjoy… plus, it
would be truly nice to see you again.
I hope you can make it.
Thomas
Mary turned the note over. That was it. There was nothing else written on the back of it – no email… no phone number… no real way of contacting Thomas.
Her attention moved to the stylish invitation. Its backdrop was a printed image showing the façade of the Legion of Honor – a magnificent open-hall, white-pillared building, with a grand, arched main entrance that could’ve easily belonged to Ancient Greece, or Julius Caesar’s Rome. Printed over the image, in striking, embossed, silver lettering was the following message:
YOU ARE HEREBY CORDIALLY INVITED TO ATTEND THEGRAND
OPENING OF THE‘DARKAMERICAEXHIBITION’ –AN EXTRAORDINARY COLLECTION OF DARK THEMEDAMERICANART DATING BACK TO THECIVILWAR.
WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY20TH– 19:00 –ATTHELEGION OFHONOR.
INVITATION ONLY.
‘Oh my god!’ Betsy’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets, as she indicated the invite in Mary’s hand. ‘That’s an invitation for Dark America.’
