Silver Linings

color and light and energy. Mattie knew they would sell in a red-hot minute.
    “They're perfect,” she told him, unable to look away from one particular painting, a shimmering image of a woman standing at a window that looked out on a jarringly primitive landscape. “Absolutely wonderful. I'll hang all three immediately. Deal?”
    Flynn's eyes lit with elation. “Deal.” He watched her go around behind her desk to pull out a blank contract.
    “They're really good, aren't they, Mattie?” Ariel moved forward, radiating a more familiar self-confidence now that judgment had been passed. “I don't know why I gave Flynn such a hard time about trying something for you. It was stupid of me to worry that he might be prostituting his talent. How can you prostitute talent, anyway? It's either there or it isn't.”
    “That's been my guiding philosophy since the day I set up Sharpe Reaction,” Mattie admitted.
    “And Flynn is loaded with talent, isn't he?”
    “Yup. Loaded. And now he's found a way to make that talent accessible to other people. People who have enough money to pay for it.”
    Out of the corner of her eye Mattie saw Flynn turning red under the unstinting praise. He deserved it, she thought. It was more amusing to witness Ariel's dramatic about-face. There was nothing quite like the fervor of the newly converted.
    “What does it matter if Flynn caters to mainstream tastes for a while?” Ariel demanded passionately. “All the great artists of the past did it. Just think, Raphael, Michelangelo, Rubens, all of them. They all had to please their patrons. Art has always had to walk the fine line between pursuing individual vision and making that vision compelling to the public.”
    Mattie slanted Flynn an amused glance as she opened a drawer and pulled out the paperwork she needed. “I agree. But, then, I sell commercial schlock for a living, so I'm somewhat biased.”
    “Don't say that, Mattie,” Ariel instructed fiercely. “It's hardly as if you're pushing pictures of matadors painted on black velvet, you know. You're developing the next generation of important collectors, making them aware of great artists such as Flynn and thereby expanding their consciousness of art in general.”
    “My God,” Mattie murmured. “My sister has turned into a raving supporter of art for the masses. I don't know if I can handle the shock.”
    “You're teasing me,” Ariel complained.
    “I know. Sorry.”
    “It's all right. I deserve it.”
    Mattie looked at a smiling Flynn. “She's really appalling when she's in her noble repentant role, isn't she?”
    “Appalling, all right. Fortunately, that's one of her least favorite acts.” Flynn grinned at his wife.
    Ariel stuck her tongue out at both of them and then chuckled happily. “I told Flynn about the baby, Mattie.”
    “And that settled the matter of what I'm going to paint for a while,” Flynn stated firmly. “Pretty exciting, isn't it? Imagine me being a daddy. I went out and bought a set of watercolors and brushes for the kid this morning.”
    “You're going to be a terrific father,” Mattie told him. For the first time she allowed herself to wonder just what sort of father Hugh would be. Probably an overprotective one, she decided. But definitely a committed one. A man like Hugh took his responsibilities very seriously.
    She remembered what he had once said about his own childhood in the heat of an argument. She knew instinctively that he was the kind of man who did not repeat the past, but rather learned from it and thereby changed the future.
    Men like Hugh were very rare in the modern world. Perhaps they always had been.
    The walls threatened to close in again. Mattie took a grip on herself and several deep breaths. She had some time. She did not have to make any decisions right now at this very moment.
    The office door opened and Hugh sauntered in carrying an open bottle of Mattie's favorite mineral water.
    “This place is sure crowded a lot lately,” he announced. “Every time I come in here I trip over a past, present, or future member of the family.”
    “Speaking of family,” Ariel said coolly, “on behalf of Flynn and myself, I'm warning you that you'd damn well better take good care of Mattie. I don't know what she sees in you, but as long as she sees something she wants, you'd better behave. Make her cry a second time, Abbott, and you'll regret it.”
    Hugh glowered at Mattie. “Promise me you won't cry under any circumstances,”