Chapter 11

Ben retrieved a bottle of rosé wine from the refrigerator and pulled the cork. "This is another tradition with this meal," he said as he poured three glasses and distributed them. "Shall we drink a toast to your career as an illustrator?" he asked Brittney.

"No. Not until it's a sure thing. I don't want to jinx it."

"Then, how about a toast to three friends?"

"That," Brittney replied, "I can drink to."

"The meatloaf is excellent again," Ben said to Molly.

"Thanks," Molly replied. "I hope it was worth the wait. I feel so hopelessly inept in the kitchen."

"I don't understand," Ben continued. "If you're an administrative assistant at your office that means you must be efficient and organized. Why not apply those skills to preparing a meal?"

"I lose all organization when I'm faced with following a recipe."

"Then, don't follow it," Brittney interjected. "You know what goes into one. When I draw, I don't know exactly how it'll turn out. I know what I want to express, but I don't know exactly how it'll look. Let your creativity take control."

"That's right," Ben agreed. "Then, it becomes an adventure."

Molly smiled. "I've never claimed to be creative. I'm not sure every dinner needs to be an adventure; but I am sure it does need to be edible."

"Brittney," Ben said, "what made you decide to sketch fairies?"

She sighed. "I was so discouraged as an art major. You have to understand how the art department operates. The students grade each other's work in what we call group criticism. And, too often that criticism is directed toward content rather than technique. My art is realistic -- I'm not comfortable making political statements or doing abstract expressions of my inner angst. My goal was to stretch my technique. It must be why the only class in which I did well was illustration -- that class is all technique."

"I understand," Ben replied. "In an environment like that, someone with talent and technique whose vision isn't doctrinaire..."

"Doctrinaire," Brittney interrupted. "That was the word I was looking for. My work wasn't doctrinaire ... and so I failed. I was so discouraged. I tossed my paints and brushes..."

" ... in a misplaced moment of self- loathing, no doubt," he remarked.

She nodded. "Exactly. And for three years I didn't do any art. I ended up in a relationship ... the less said about it the better. When that ended, the only work I could find was waiting tables, and the only place I could afford was a month-to-month furnished flat in the Riverbend section. One slow day at the diner I doodled out a fairy sitting on a rock. I looked at what I had done and I thought how nice it would be to live in harmony with nature ... to solve problems with a bit of pixie dust and to simply fly away. The drawings are my escape."

Ben glanced toward Molly and saw her transfixed on Brittney's face, her own eyes misting. "Wow," she said.

"Your drawings are very good, Brittney. Sometimes your creativity needs to sit an marinate for a while before it develops a fine, complex flavor." Ben reached across the table and grasped her hand. "I understand what you went through. I've had moments of doubt, myself. I think every artist has stretches when he thinks the muse has deserted him."

"You do understand," Brittney replied. "I think you're the first creative person I've met who does understand."

"Probably not, Brittney. I think everyone understands. Just don't lose confidence in your ability."

"Listen," Molly said. "Whose phone is that?"

"Oh, I think it's mine," Brittney said. She pushed back her chair, grabbed her bag and pulled her cell from it. She flipped it open. "Hello?" She looked toward Ben and Molly. "It's Natalie again."

"Take it in the study," Ben replied.

"What do you think?" Molly asked. "This thing with Natalie wasn't a put-up job, was it?"

"What sort of a scoundrel do you think I am?" he replied. "I would never toy with someone like that. I've been known to tease, but that would be cruel beyond redemption."

"I didn't think you capable, Ben."

"I had no idea Natalie had a new client ... or, what sort of project."

"She's been in there a long time," Molly remarked.

"I would hope that's a good sign."

Brittney stepped from the study. "Good news?" Molly asked.

She nodded. "Natalie sent the scans to Bree Winwood. I was just on a three-way call with both of them. Bree told me she doesn't know how many artists she's auditioned for the books, but all their work is..." She looked into Ben's eye. "She said it's either lame, trite or derivative. She doesn't want characters that look like they're from a cartoon -- she wants them to look real. She likes my work, Ben."

"That's wonderful."

"She said, since these are children's books I'll have to dial back the sex appeal -- put bras on the girls and make their skirts a little longer." Brittney stifled a giggle. "She asked if I knew how to draw boy fairies."

"What did you tell her?" Ben asked.

"I told her I could. And then..."

"Then, what?" Molly asked.

"She wants to meet me in person."

"Where does she live?" Ben asked.

"Brookline."

"Mass?" Ben asked. She nodded. "It's a suburb of Boston."

"I told her I couldn't afford to travel. She said she'd get the publisher to pay my way."

"Brittney," Ben said, "Molly and I can forward you the funds to buy your plane ticket."

"I couldn't..."

"It's a loan, not a handout. Companies find it easier to reimburse an expense account than to process an advance."

"Ben's right," Molly added. "We'd be happy to help you."

"After dinner, maybe we can look at flights ... maybe even book one."

Brittney slipped into her jacket and held her bag and sketchpad. "Thanks for everything," she said. "I don't know how I can thank you."

"You can thank us by being successful," Ben replied.

"Good night." Ben embraced her; then Molly hugged her and they kissed. Molly bolted the door behind her.

"I think we had a breakthrough," Ben remarked. "I'm warming up to her. I was half expecting you to invite her into our bed."

"That's yet to come," Molly replied. "Quick -- get out of your clothes and into your robe."

"Why?" Ben asked.

"She'll be back any moment."

"How are you so sure?"

"Because of the time. It's too late for the busses to run."

"It's only nine-thirty. I thought they stopped running at midnight."

"Monday through Saturday, yes. It's Sunday night. The last one runs at nine."

Ben followed Molly into the bedroom. She stripped to her underwear and removed a short, lightweight robe from her closet. Then she slipped out of her bra, pulled on the robe and tied the belt. He removed his shirt and jeans and slipped into his robe.

He sat on the sofa and Molly snuggled beside him. "It's taking her a while," Ben remarked.

"Patience," she replied and ran her hand along Ben's leg.

"Are you nervous?" he asked.

"A little."

"Do you think she'll agree to this?"

"I think there's a good chance." The doorbell rang. "See?" Molly said. "I told you." She hopped off the sofa and pressed the intercom. "Yes?"

It's Brittney. The busses aren't running.

"Oh, dear. You'd better come up." She pressed the button to unlock the front door. Brittney stepped into the apartment and Molly bolted the door.

"I didn't realize the busses stopped running at nine on Sunday," Brittney said.

"Give me a sec," Molly replied, "and I'll drive you home."

"Molly," Ben said, "I don't like the idea of you driving to Riverbend at this time of night."

"Ben's right," Brittney replied. "There have been some carjackings in the neighborhood."

Molly returned to Ben's side on the sofa. "What do you think?" she whispered.

"What choice does she have?" he whispered in reply.

"Brittney -- you should stay here tonight. The bed is wide enough to share."

"I ... I didn't bring anything..."

"We still have the toothbrush you used during the week," Molly replied. "What else do you need?"

"Something to wear..."

"You can wear one of my shirts," Ben replied. "I'll find one."

Brittney stepped from the bathroom wearing one of Ben's long-sleeve shirts. "Oh, you look cute," Molly remarked. "I think there's something sexy about a girl wearing a guy's shirt."

"Then maybe you should try wearing one of mine," Ben replied to Molly.

"Brittney," Molly said, "I think I have a knot in my hair. I don't want to rip it out."

"Let me look."

Molly sat on a chair and handed Brittney her hairbrush. Brittney teased her hair and brushed it. "It's a luxury having someone brush your hair for you," Molly remarked. "Maybe you should grow yours longer, Britt."

"Maybe -- but it's easy to care for when it's short."

Ben watched Molly reach and caress Brittney's calf. She worked her hand up her leg, caressing the back of her knee and thigh.

"Shall we?" Molly asked and gestured toward the bedroom. Molly turned down the sheet and Brittney climbed onto the mattress. She stretched out her legs and tucked her ankles under the covers. Ben sat on the bed on Brittney's right and Molly sat on her left.

"I know what you two are up to," Brittney said.

"Have you done a three-way before?" Ben asked.

Brittney nodded. "Yes -- with my former partner ... but never with a guy."

Ben stroked Brittney's cheek. "We have a rule in this bedroom -- no means no and stop means stop."

"Molly told me about that."

"We won't push you out of your comfort zone. Are you nervous?" Ben asked.

"A little."

"So are we," Molly remarked.

"But, I'm more than a little curious," Brittney added.

Ben gently lifted her glasses from her face and set them on the bed stand. He lay beside her. "You really do have pretty eyes. I hope you can get surgery for them and sooner rather than later." He brought his lips to hers and kissed her.

Molly caressed her cheek and the two women kissed. Ben began caressing Brittney's slender legs while Molly unbuttoned the shirt she wore. Then, Molly put her hand on Brittney's abdomen and slid it upward, opening the shirt and exposing her compact breasts.

Brittney sat up and let the shirt slide off her shoulders. Then, she guided both Ben's and Molly's faces to her breasts. He kissed and tongued her small nipple while Molly mouthed her left breast. Brittney eased herself onto her back and held Ben's face against her chest. "Ohhhh," she sighed. "This feels good..."