Chapter 2

We Skyped every night, for ten days. They would both tell me how much they missed me. Sissy would talk about the new story she was writing, and Katie would tell me about her day, describing her art projects. I would show them what I was painting. We ended every conversation with “I love you,” and Katie blowing kisses at me.

We were two weeks in and were discussing my visit the next week; and then, nothing. She never responded to me at all. I was terribly disappointed, but heck, she did have a life, and I was going over in eight days. I didn’t worry about it too much, but after three days of no communication I was disturbed and a little irked, so I called Justine.

“Justine, I can’t get hold of Sissy. It’s been three days. Is her computer down? Do I need to send her another? I’m really missing her.”

Her answer surprised me, as well as the frost in her voice. “She doesn’t want to talk to you. Frankly, neither do I. She wants me to give you this message: ‘Never contact me again. You’re a despicable human being, bedding an innocent poor Irish woman and then gallivanting off with your society floozies the minute I’m out of the picture. How I despise you, after what you’ve done to both of us. Katie is heartbroken.’ If there is a silver lining to this, it’s that she’s learned early to be wary of anything that seems too good to be true.’ How could you do it, Damon? Not even two weeks and you’re out with another woman.”

It shocked me so bad it took thirty seconds before I could speak. “What the hell are you talking about? I haven’t been on a date with anyone. What makes you think such a thing?”

“Pictures don’t lie, Damon. We saw it on the society page of the New York Times. You were at a charity fundraiser, with a blond on your arm. She looked awfully comfortable.”

I had no idea what she was talking about, but it hit me, hard. Chelsea had insisted I go with her and Henry to a fundraiser. It was for abused and homeless children, her dearest cause, and she sat on the Board and was tireless in procuring funds. One of the prizes was a painting by me, on any subject, human or animal. Not life-sized, just an average painting to adorn a wall. The starting bid was to be forty-thousand. We met Ann and Clayton there, along with their daughter Kelsie. We decided to share a table.

Kelsie was there because she was in town to see her new lover, a local television anchor. They had been seeing each other for months, and she told us at dinner she expected a very important question from him in the very near future. Ann and Clark were very happy, they knew the man and thought highly of him. He was one of the hosts and had to work the first part of the auction, then join us.

There were photographers everywhere, something I had become used to at those events, so I gave them no thought. I had given Kelsie a hug when I heard her news, and there was a photo of it. Later, after dinner was over, I escorted her across the ballroom to meet her lover. Another photo was snapped. One of the gossip rags got hold of the photos and ran them on the front page of the society section, wondering if the beautiful heiress had seduced the successful and reclusive painter. Chelsea called me, laughing about it. She did a little suggesting, and the next day they printed a retraction, saying we were just friends, and Kelsie was, in fact, engaged to Tom Wells, morning anchor for the local ABC affiliate, and I was also engaged, to an Irish writer. Leave it to Chelsea to push it just a bit.