Blood In The Water
The night was hot, but not that blanketing hot that would come in August. The day had hardly gotten up to 90 degrees; the night was still nearly 90 degrees. It was the way it was in Natchez; for the cool breeze off the water, you had to accept the warmth that clung to the river banks like moss.
Tonight was the gala opening of the newest art gallery in the town; the Golden Gallery, featuring the work of Ron Golden, the semi-famous landscape painter. The hostess was his main financial backer, Eliza Beauchamps, one of the movers and shakers in the local business community, even if she was rumored to be bat-shit crazy. Bat shit crazy with lots of money is eccentric, and Lord, the South loves its eccentrics.
Inside the restored antebellum storefront, the party had taken off. Eliza, dressed severe in her widow's weeds, stood protectively beside her artist. Her equally crazy sister, Evangaline Beauchamps Maguire stood on the other side of the room pointedly not admiring the art on the wall, surrounded by her usual coterie of sycophants and pretty boys. While Eliza was indifferent at best whether you called her Eliza or Miz Beauchamps, Evangaline Beauchamps Maguire insisted on being addressed by her full name. To do otherwise risked being overlooked when invitations got mailed to events of any importance in the city.
Arriving late, Felecia DuBarrais made her usual entrance; staggering drunk, exposing acres of bosom and thigh, and draped conspicuously over one or more of her men friends. DuB, as she liked to be known, didn't travel with pretty boys. Her companions varied in how handsome they might be, but there was no mistaking that she kept the company of MEN.
Clustered in small groups around the main room, sipping wine and trying to look informed, the rest of the "right" people in town milled about, pinned in by the three lionesses of Natchez society.
Caroline Thibideaux is not an unknown in this town. Her grandmother Cecilia Devereaux Hardin is one of the matrons of Natchez society, and her mama Mary Alice does charity work over at the hospital. It just so happens, however, that she's only recently moved back into town -- the gossips have it that her mama finally convinced her to come home from Atlanta. And all in all, Caroline's been pretty much out of the social scene for years now. But the invitation to the art gallery's shindig came at a time when Cecile couldn't come, and so Caroline is making the appearance for her family as any well-brought-up young woman should.
She comes through the door and pauses there, eyes slipping across the attendees, and Caroline is somewhat surprised that there are so few faces that she's personally acquainted with. Oh, a few here and there. But no one of much import besides the obvious -- the Cadre of the Cotillion. She takes a glass of wine off the tray and blends into the crowd some, hoping to avoid any matchmakin' mommas.
Upon seeing Caroline enter the gallery, Eliza awkwardly tugged and pulled Mr. Golden, the artist of the show, over to introduce him to Mrs. Hardin's granddaughter. "Miz Hardin? Miz Hardin? Would you do me the honor of allowing that I might introduce my current favorite artist to you?" she insinuated herself onto Caroline's arm, clasping the girl's left hand in her right hand. "I am so gratified that you have decided to grace us with your presence tonight. I declare, with all that work your mother does at the hospital, and whatnot. How's Mrs. Hardin, your grandmother? I declare, I saw her last week at the country club, and must say she looks more fit and spry every day, yes she does!"
Golden, resigned to his role as an ornament, stiffly held his hand out to the new arrival, relieved that this one was at least young and pretty. "Charmed, ma'am."
It's not until Eliza has her arm that Caroline turns. She doesn't even realize that she's been called Ms Hardin -- not that it would offend her. Hardins and Thibideauxs are quite well intermarried at this point. Her blue eyes slide over Eliza and Caroline offers a soft smile. "Grandmama's doing wonderful, thank you so much for askin'. She had a prior engagement this evenin' and she asked me to attend to give her regrets personally. She knows I love a good art show, and this... is a very good art show," she compliments. Her eyes flicker to the man in front of her and she tilts her head. "I'm sure the pleasure is all mine, sir," she says as she takes his hand. "Is it your work on the walls?" she wonders aloud.
Mr. Golden smiled at the small compliment, and his bright blue eyes twinkled. Despite the name, Golden was a brunette. In his late thirties, he was fairly well built, slight receding hairline, and a razor thin mustache. His brow was low over his eyes, and combined with his hairline gave him a very steep forehead. "I'd be most gratified to show you the works, and answer any questions you might have."
Eliza slipped Caroline's arm free, and almost as if by afterthought slipped Caroline's hand into Ron's hand. "You artistic types; you young people go enjoy the art work, and I'll work the business end of trying to force some of these people to come off money to pay for all the wine and cheese."
Ron explained his style, inspiration, and technique in some detail. Despite the air conditioning, there were obvious beads of sweat at his temples, as he nervously kept glancing over at the pretty girl by his side. "I must bore you, young lady," he said, the note of hope that he was mistaken obvious in his tenor voice.
Keeping a conversation going in a crowd like this as they keep moving... that is far harder than it appears for Caroline. "I would love to see the pieces," she tells him with a smile. And as she hooks her arm into his and walks along, her eyes are intent on his face. It could potentially be mistaken for a different kind of interest, she watches his mouth move so carefully. Her gaze never strays from his face except for the rare occasion that she needs to look around. "You are definitely not boring me," she assures him with a smile. "I paint a little myself -- though nothing on this level. I'm hoping to have a small show at The Cabbage Rose soon. We shall see if that works out." She leans in conspiratorially and admits, "I'm perhaps not quite as good as you are."
Golden smiled at the signs of interest, and the opening. "Well, I'm not just the artist, I'm the manager of the gallery," he said, leaning in close to brush her ear with his lips conspiratorially. "......" He leaned back to get her reaction, and his brows knit in frustration. "If I've been to forward, you will please forgive me?" he said, somewhat abashed.
Caroline smiles at him and when he leans in, she realizes instantly what he's doing. So when he steps back, she says gently, "Mr. Golden, I'm terribly sorry to ask you to repeat yourself when you're a little flustered on the matter... I need to see your face when you're speaking." Her tone is apologetic. "I do apologize, I forget to warn people."
DuB crossed the room and coiled her arm around Golden's waist, and stared Caroline directly in the face. "He sure put his foot in it, didn't he sweet heart?" She giggled like a girl much younger then her age, and turned to Ron, then stared directly into Caroline's eyes again. "Dear, he was implying he'd like to put something else, smaller and less frequently used in it, too" DuB reached back, and with a resounding THWACK noise, smacked Golden on the ass. "The girl's an artist herself, so don't need to buy a thing you got to sell. Get on now, go find some blue haired biddy that might pick up a frame or two to hang in the bedroom, 'long as you come 'round to help her movethe furniture so it'll fit!"
"Well, now, I'm quite sure that so fine a gentleman as Mr. Golden would never stoop to such a vulgar proposition... he'd put much nicer words into the matter," Caroline says with a wink at Ron Golden. "Don't let her fluster you further, Mr. Golden. I'm quite sure I enjoyed the entire conversation. Good luck with your showin' this evening. And if I do not chance to meet the artist, please give him or her my most sincere compliments please."
Golden moved away from the two ladies, the pretty blond, and the red haired woman who might be anywhere from twenty-five to a well preserved fifty. The amount of gin with the tiny splash of vermouth in her oversized martini being an indication, she might be preserved and pickled enough to be sixty.
"If you'll excuse me, miss. Oh, and you," he said archly, and stiffly marched back across the room to confer with bowed heads with Eliza. Eliza looked on with the pinched face of a school marm who'd just sat on a live frog.
"Don't let them box you up and stink of moth balls like the rest of them, honey," said DuB in a loud enough voice to make sure she could be heard by everyone. "You've put in your appearance, let's go get a DRANK!" With a crooked finger, she summoned her two men-friends of the evening, and stared directly into Caroline's face. "You pick one. I'm feeling generous tonight."
Caroline's expression remains calm and she says to the woman with the martini, "Thank you kindly, but no. I'm afraid I'm not lookin' for company this evenin'." She smiles. "If you don't mind, I believe I'm goin' to find myself a plate." One doesn't argue with intoxicated characters. "You are more than welcome to join me if you like." Because... food is only to the good.
From the far side of the room, Evangaline Beauchamps Maguire lifted her elegantly coiffed head, and turned to stare with daggers at the hot mess of hot red head making the scene. More floating then walking, she swept across the room and fixed DuB with a withering glance. "That will be quite enough, Miz DuBarrais," she pronounced in her musical lyric soprano voice. She put some obvious effort into pronouncing the name DewBerries, instead of the usual D'Barry. "Can you not see that our young guest is attuned to the finer things? Art, romance, and preserving some form of mystery?" Looking the older but less senior woman up and down dismissively, she gestured toward the front door. "Usually, refuse is discarded from the rear entryway. Do us all a favor, and carry yourself out the front."
DuB looked offended, but looking left and right, saw this crowd was not likely to take her side. Staring deep into Caroline's eyes, she said, "I'll call you." Spinning on her heels, and caught by her man friend just in time to keep from falling, she swept through the room. "I might comeback and buy that one over there," she jibbed in parting. "It's a step above what you find in most Holiday Inn Express when travelling."
Evangaline turned to Caroline, and brushed her lustrous black hair back over her ear. "Please forget she ever happened," she said. Merely mouthing the words, she moved her face to Caroline's. "One does what one does to stay young, you know."
Caroline feels a hint of pity for the older woman as Evangaline Beauchamps Maguire sweeps in. Now there's a true Southern lady -- cutting with barely more than a look, her tongue is sharp as a rapier. As DuB goes, Caro looks at her 'savior.' "Thank you," she says mildly. "Ms. DuBarrais," pronounced the correct way, of course, "can be quite an entertaining companion, but I'm afraid I simply haven't the energy tonight. It's a lovely gathering."
With a rictus of the mouth, Evangaline approximated a smile. "Bless her heart," she said. "She does her best to entertain. I declare that in her time she's entertained for miles." Primly holding her hand palm down towards Caroline, the Steel Magnolia of Natchez waited for the polite shake. "Tonight, you are my sister's guest," she says, before turning and speaking over her shoulder to her bored entourage. Her head spins back to face Caroline with an unnatural speed. "Perhaps, some night soon, you shall agree to be mine?"
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