Appointment with a Smile Read Free Page A

tell her. In my defense, I wasn’t certain I would go. I walked by the gallery several times before I summoned the courage to enter. Through the window, I saw the painting and knew immediately it was she. I had to purchase it.”
    “She had told you about me?”
    “Yes. Mostly my biological mother, Pamela, mentioned you over the years.”
    “I’ve never met your mother. I spoke with her on the telephone only once. As you might imagine, the conversation was very brief.”
    “I gathered the two of you never met. I look very much like Pamela. Or so I’m told.”
    “And did she mention the circumstances…”
    “Oh, yes. Your name came up quite a few times when she and my true mother, Molly, fought. At least when I was a child. Later they fought in, or maybe with, silence.”
    “They must have cared. They’ve been together for thirty years.”
    “Pamela died ten years ago. They were together a little over twenty years. I thought, romantically speaking, it had been a nineteen-year sleepwalk. It seemed meaningless. Even as a child, and later a young adult, I felt their lack of love. It wasn’t how my husband and I feel toward one another.”
    “I’m sorry. Love rarely comes with a warning label. We sometimes make mistakes when selecting. I have.”
    Samantha sighed and nodded with compassion as if she knew I was still in pain. “Everyone has their own marathon, I suppose. We stand, we run, we fall.”
    “A very astute observation.”
    “Both Mother and Pamela were philosophy professors and exposed me to constant wisdom. As far as marriage was concerned, I was prepared for imperfection. It amazes me that I married a man with so few imperfections.”
    “Pamela…” I had to stop as I practically spat out her name. “Pamela was once an enemy. I harbored a hatred against her.”
    “In truth… she wasn’t easy to live with,” Samantha said. “But my life hasn’t been entirely sad, thanks to Jeffery, my husband, and my mother Molly.” She exuded a mellow harmony, and her face reflected an arbitrator’s introspection.
    “Molly told you about our meeting yesterday? She didn’t have time for a chat.”
    “She was extremely shaken. It took her until late last night to tell me about seeing you. And yes, Mom was to meet up with Jeffery and me. Jeffery and I looked on the Internet gallery to view your work. He’s also impressed. Being somewhat of an art connoisseur, he believes that a painting should become the mind’s home. And the longer one stays in that home, the better the work of art. He observed your cyber gallery.”
    I smiled. “I like his belief a great deal. When I do a portrait, it’s as if I want to introduce the person to the viewer. When I’m painting, if I’m unable to catch glimpses of my subject’s emotion, it’s similar to painting only a halftone.”
    “I see that in your work. I’m very impressed.”
    “Yet you came to my opening, and Molly didn’t.” I was curious but also wounded. Molly hadn’t called the hotel, nor had she taken the time to find me at the gallery. Even for old time’s sake. Her daughter had taken the trouble.
    Finding out Pamela Meade died ten years ago confirmed that Molly was no longer thinking of me. She hadn’t attempted to contact me. She hadn’t merely run to Pamela all those years ago. She’d run away from me.
    “Forgive me, but this is a shock.” I blinked back the tears that were welling in my eyes. “I feel a bit overwhelmed. Maybe I’ve put in too many hours uncrating and hanging my exhibit. I like hands-on when it comes to placement. Guess that makes me a temperamental artist.”
    “Your work is absolutely wonderful. I’m so glad I got to see it and to meet you.”
    I drank the last of my coffee and stood. “I’ve enjoyed meeting you as well. It’s been a hectic couple of days, and it’s getting late. I should go.”
    She rose and embraced me. “Danielle, would you like my telephone number? I’m sure Mom would enjoy hearing from