Chapter 7

I had made a request to Justine before I left, and three days later I got a phone call. It was quiet for about thirty seconds and I thought the call had dropped. “Thank you.”

I smiled. “You are very welcome, my Queen. I hope it brings you happiness.”

“I know my time on this earth is about over. I’ve lived a very full life, and I have few regrets. One of my biggest now is that I won’t get to enjoy your gift for as long as I’d like. I know you didn’t have to do this, and it was a gesture of kindness. I’d knight you if we still did that sort of thing, if I thought you would stand still for it. But I’ll leave you in peace, with the eternal thanks of a happy old woman.”

She rang off, and I looked at the phone. Sometimes the simplest of things can bring great joy.

The Law of Unintended Consequences kicked in with a vengeance. Colin left me a message to check yesterday’s edition of the London Times. There, on the front page, was the Queen, holding the portrait I’d done of her and her dog from thirty years ago. The story was ten columns long, singing my praises. It was almost embarrassing. It got worse when the Queen said she’d allow both paintings to be shown in the National Gallery for a limited time. Then they would disappear from the public eye, back into her private collection.

There was another photo, of Katie presenting the portrait to the Queen. Rumor ran rampant as to who the child was, after all it was the second time she had appeared with the Queen. One journalist almost got it right, saying she was the daughter of the artist, Damon Dawes, and the up and coming children’s writer Sisoban O’Mallory. Wonder what Sissy thought when she read that?

The portraits hung in the National Gallery for three months and drew record crowds. The Gallery had bundled it up with other portraits of animals with their owners through the centuries, creating a theme. The Queen, in a rare television message, urged people to support their local animal shelters, announcing that the equivalent of $250,000 was being donated in my name. Looked like I got my asking price after all. There was a photo of the Queen a few weeks later, with a corgi she had adopted from a shelter. The upsurge in support and adoptions hit a record high.

Sissy was in America, but her obligations kept her moving. She was in New York, Washington, Boston, then West to Chicago, Minneapolis, and Kansas City. Then it was on to Los Angeles, San Francisco, Portland, and Seattle. I’d get a glimpse of her from time to time in the paper or on television, pushing her collection of children’s stories. It must have galled her some when they asked how she felt about me painting the cover. I’d made a promise, so I painted a fanciful portrait of magical creatures and put Katie right in the middle. It fit perfectly with her best story, and Katie, Chelsea, Justine, and my mom browbeat her into accepting it. It also boosted sales, especially when I promised to put the original in an online auction benefitting abused children. I think it might have angered her a little, but I didn’t actually give it to her, I gave her limited rights to use it as a cover.

Katie was firmly ensconced into the lifestyle of the rich and famous when I went to see her two weeks later. I was surprised to hear her call Chelsea and Henry Grandma and Grandpa, but judging by the way Chelsea smiled when she said it, I had a feeling it was just a bit more than an honorary title. It didn’t stop her from racing out to the car and jumping into my arms.

I had to listen to an account of everything she had done since arriving, in great detail, but I had her in my arms and that made it not only bearable but welcome. She waited until mid-afternoon to spill her biggest surprise. “Grandpa got me a horse! She’s a beauty! Will you go with me when I ride her?”