Silver Linings

Mattie's startled attention to the doorway behind her sister. Hugh lounged there, one shoulder propped against the frame. He was fiddling with a sack from the Thai take-out restaurant around the corner. He looked up from a perusal of the contents of the bag as a sudden silence fell on the office.
    “Hey, don't let me interrupt,” he said calmly, with-drawing a small carton from the sack. “I just stopped by with some dinner for Mattie. Figured she needed something to fortify her energies before the big opening.”
    “My God,” Ariel breathed. “Look at you. So damned cool. So disgustingly sure of yourself. How could you be such a complete and utter bastard, Hugh Abbott? How could you?”
    “Well,” Hugh began, looking thoughtful, “it's not easy, I can tell you that.”
    “Oh, shut up.” Ariel brushed past him, black silks streaming behind her.
    A moment later the outer door opened and closed with a reverberating slam.
    Silence descended again on the small office.
    Hugh eyed the viselike grip Mattie had on the screwdriver. “Tell you what. If you put that down slowly and carefully on the desk, I'll serve dinner.”
    Mattie realized she was trembling. She dropped the screwdriver onto the desk, went around to the back, and sank abruptly into her chair. Her knees felt weak.
    In numb silence she watched Hugh lay out a meal that featured noodles and vegetables in a spicy peanut sauce.
    “Eat up,” Hugh said as he spread a napkin across her lap and pushed a paper plate full of noodles in front of her. “When we're finished I'll help you hang the rest of Silk's pictures.”
    “Thank you.” Mattie stared blindly down at the noodles.
    “Think nothing of it. Even us outdated, inconsiderate, insensitive clods have our uses.”
    Mattie continued to stare at the noodles.
    Hugh started to eat his. He munched in silence for a full minute, and then he arched a single, inquiring brow. “Slam-bam-thank-you-ma'am?”
    Mattie blinked and at last picked up her chopsticks. “It's not that bad.”
    “Thank you,” Hugh said with great humility. “I do try, you know. And I'm willing to study hard and learn. I'm a fast learner.”
    And suddenly Mattie couldn't help herself. She thought of his intense, highly erotic, incredibly sexy brand of lovemaking, and she started to giggle. The giggle mushroomed into laughter, and a moment later she was convulsed with it. Hugh watched in quiet amusement, looking obliquely satisfied.
    It was only later that she realized that the laughter had been as effective at reducing her stress level as venting her anger had been earlier.
    And it was Hugh who had somehow given her the gift of both kinds of freedom.

    The Silk Taggert show was a huge success. Hugh spent most of it leaning negligently against one wall, a glass of champagne in his hand, and wishing his friend could see what was happening. Silk would have gotten a kick out of all these sophisticated, trendy people going crazy over his work. Hugh made a note to try to remember as many of the comments he had overheard this evening as possible.
    “… It leaves me with the strangest sense of longing…I can't wait to get that lagoon scene on my wall…Such spectacular colors, real colors…What a change from all the gray and brown and black you see so much of in Seattle galleries these days…So bold and vibrant…A nice change. I get so tired of subtlety…That jungle feels alive…Dangerous but beautiful…Captures the power of nature …”
    Mattie was everywhere, looking very businesslike in a proper little suit, her hair neatly coiled at the nape of her neck. She was mingling with the crowd, chatting with potential buyers, and turning a blind eye to the serious inroads a few apparently starving artists were making at the buffet table. She had told Hugh earlier she considered the free food eaten by artistic moochers at these events as a contribution to the arts.
    “This stuff isn't bad,” a young woman with chartreuse hair and a lot of metal hanging from her clothing announced to Hugh.
    He looked at her. “You mean the art?”
    “Nah. The food. The art's good, but the food is really terrific, isn't it? Mattie always puts on a first-class feast. She's not stingy like some of the gallery owners.” The young woman squinted up at Hugh. “Who are you? The artist?”
    “No. A friend of his. He couldn't be here.”
    “Too bad. It must be nice to watch people going nuts over your work. I'd give anything to have them go apeshit