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Chapter 3: Martha Visits

Two days before the reception, Martha arrived at Nikola's apartment at precisely six-thirty. Martha was an incredibly skinny woman of medium height, constantly in motion. She was in her forties, but tried very hard not to show it, and succeeded in looking an ambiguously late thirties. She wore her typical outfit: a tight suit with a short skirt and high heels. She moved and spoke quickly, sometimes startling Nikola, who was not used to her pace.

"Hello dear, how are you?" Martha asked as she approached without waiting for a reply. She leaned over to Nikola and kissed the air near her cheek on either side of her face. "I feel like I've been on the phone all day, I'm a total wreck. But it was worth it, many people promised to be there tomorrow, we should have a great crowd. So, are you looking forward to the reception?" Martha continued, "Not getting nervous, are you?"

"No, not really. Well, a little, I guess."

Martha paused for a moment, then asked, "Do you know what you're going to wear for the reception?"

"I was planning to wear a dress I brought from Germany."

"What's it like? You know you do want to look special for the occasion. I know you're known in Germany, but here it's your coming out. It's your first New York show, and first impressions are just so important. We can't be too careful."

"The dress is white. It's a simple cut, with a clenched waist and a full skirt."

"How long?"

"To mid-calf, I think."

"It's simple, you say?"

"Well, it's not that simple. It has a bit of chiffon with it that comes over and drapes the shoulders."

"Also white?"

"Yes. I have white shoes too."

"The dress does sound lovely, but do you think white is the right color for you? A darker color, like say black, would emphasize your blonde hair and pale skin so much better," she touched Nikola's hair and continued, "You know, artists almost never wear white, they always wear darker colors. They usually wear black, of course, not that you have to wear black, but don't you have something else? Something darker and sexier? People might think it odd if you come in with a long white dress on. Besides, you have such a beautiful figure, you should really show it off more. After all, this is your solo show, the critics and collectors will all be looking at you."

Nikola looked away momentarily, self-conscious of her dress choice, wondering about Martha's priorities. "I want people to be looking at my paintings, not at me."

"But it's after Labor Day, dear, you can't wear white. Besides, you'll just blend right into the walls and your paintings, which are also light for the most part. Don't you have a little black dress somewhere?" Martha asked. "Or perhaps a sexy red number. You'd just stand out better, you've got to command attention, you know."

Nikola looked at Martha incredulously before her sharp reply. "I didn't bring anything else." She never expected her dress to be questioned, hadn't even given it much thought, but she resented the way Martha criticized it.

"Maybe you could do some shopping tomorrow during the day. There's one nice dress boutique on Broadway, oh, I forget the name, then on West Broadway there are at least two, and, of course, if you want to go further uptown, all the department stores are there. Sachs has a wonderful collection of cocktail dresses. I'm sure you could find something..."

"I brought the white dress for this occasion, and that's the one I want to wear! In addition, I don't have any money to go shopping."

"You don't have to worry about the money dear, in fact I have some great news in that department."

"I already owe the gallery a lot money. Anyhow, it's not the money. I like the dress I have and I'm comfortable in it. I'll be uncomfortable enough at the reception, I at least want to be comfortable with my dress!"

"Of course, dear. You can wear whatever you want. You're right, you should be comfortable. I'm sure the dress will be charming," Martha said smoothly with a smile. She opened her briefcase, pulled out a sheaf of papers, and continued, "To help you for the reception, dear, I've prepared a list of the people I've invited. I'd appreciate it if you could familiarize yourself with the names, so you'll know who you're meeting."

Nikola looked down at the papers that Martha handed her, dismayed to see four sheets of tightly typed names and comments. The thought of trying to memorize all of them made her head spin. "I'm not sure how much of this I can possibly learn in two days..."

"Well, do try, dear. They're very important people in the art world and some of our best clients. You do want to make a good impression, you know. But now, on to the good news: we have something to celebrate! Do you have any wine? Do pour us a couple of glasses."

Nikola reluctantly nodded and moved towards the kitchenette. She poured out the wine and handed one glass to Martha. "What's the occasion?"

"Darling, we're twenty thousand dollars richer. That's ten thousand for you, and ten thousand for the gallery with the commission. We only have to wait for the check to clear. But I'm sure that'll be any day now."

"You sold some paintings?"

"Yes, and even before the opening reception, do you believe that? However, I'm afraid those paintings won't be in the reception. The client insisted on taking them immediately. But, dear, he offered almost seven thousand a painting. That's more than you've ever gotten before. I mean, they usually go for between three to five thou, so seven is quite a nice bonus. Considering that, I thought his request to take them immediately was quite reasonable. Besides, even without those we've still got nine paintings for the reception. We'll just rearrange them and no one'll ever notice the difference."

"You were supposed to check with me before selling any paintings," Nikola replied, annoyed.

"But it all happened so fast, I didn't have time..."

"The walls are going to be bare."

"Not at all, your paintings are very strong. They can command a lot of space..."

"Which did you sell?" Nikola asked curiously.

"The three in the back. Even though they were hiding behind the wall, they obviously got favorable attention immediately, and..."

"The three in the back? You mean the 'Woman in Red' series?" Nikola asked angrily, barely keeping her voice below a shout.

"Exactly. Those are the ones. And don't you think that the exhibition as a whole..."

"How could you do that to me!" Nikola screamed. 

Martha, shocked at the interruption and uncharacteristic behavior, stared at Nikola with her eyes wide and her mouth still open, soundlessly forming her last word.

Nikola ignored Martha's expression and continued, "You know I didn't want to sell those paintings! It was clearly stated, in writing, on my inventory! Cancel the sale at once!"

"Nonsense, darling," Martha replied calmly, "I'm sure you could use that money right now, couldn't you? In addition, this sale will raise the prices of your other paintings. You mustn't get so attached to these paintings, dear. They're your livelihood. Eventually you'll have to sell each and every one of them."

Nikola still fumed. "Cancel the sale," she said coldly.

"I'm sorry dear, but I can't do that. The paintings have already left the gallery," Martha answered curtly.
Nikola sat down on the couch and stared at Martha in a state of mute shock. A feeling of complete impotence washed over her. This woman does what she wants without any concern for anyone else, she thought. Nikola was not at all prepared to part with those paintings, she felt as if they revealed more about her than she herself knew. She didn't understand the dreams those paintings represented and needed to spend more time with them, to learn from them. Even worse, she was not comfortable with the idea that someone else had them and was looking at them right now. And why would they want to purchase such a gruesome set of paintings?, she wondered.

When Nikola returned her attention to the present, she realized that she could hear Martha's voice. Talking seemed to be Martha's natural state, perhaps she thought it would help ease the shock. "...As I was saying before, I think that the exhibition will be even better now. Without those three, it's a much more coherent showing. Those three in the back were disparate elements and I really think that the show hangs together much better without them. I know that I said they were strong pieces, but..."

"Who bought them?" Nikola asked in a flat monotone voice that hardly hid her anger.

"Well, the actual client wishes to remain anonymous, but the check was from that law firm, you know, Morse, Chester or something like that. The ones who buy at least a couple pieces a year from you. They obviously represent a very big fan of yours, and they're such a good client, I mean, we can't just alienate people like that. And I had no idea that you didn't want to sell them."

"I gave you the list weeks ago!"

"Well, I'm really sorry Nikola, but in the heat of the sale it just totally slipped my mind. If I had realized that you felt that way, I never would have sold them without getting your consent first. But I had no idea, and the price they were willing to pay was just fantastic. Selling paintings these days isn't easy, you know. No one has enough money for such frivolities as art anymore."

"How the hell did you get them out of the gallery so fast? I just hung them yesterday!" Nikola said sharply.

"Well, he came in around five o'clock or so. Cynthia showed him into my office."

"Him? Him who?"

"Well, he really didn't give his name. He just shook my hand and told me that he was from Morse Chester and was interested in those three paintings. Then he said he'd offer twenty-thousand for the three and could have a check for me in half an hour if I could give him the paintings then. I mean I was just blown away, it all happened so fast. Usually I would never break up a exhibition like that, trust me. But since we hadn't even had the reception yet, it didn't seem like it would do any harm. I mean, who would know? Besides, you're never just offered a check like that. Usually you have to wait at least thirty days after you've delivered the paintings, and often longer. Sometimes they insist on paying in installments. These rich people are real tightwads, believe me. When he made the offer, I just couldn't resist."

"What did he look like?"

"He was an elderly man. You know, like retirement age. Medium height, I'd say, although it was hard to tell because he stooped and leaned on his cane a lot. Um, what else? Gray hair, brown eyes, clean shaven, distinguishably dressed, and very polite. Quite the gentleman. You'd have been impressed."

"I'm sure." Nikola said sarcastically. "So this old man with a cane just carried out three paintings larger than himself?"

"Of course not. He left, and then I received the check by messenger about forty-five minutes later. Fifteen minutes after that, at around six, a moving company came and took them out. It was one of those places that specialize in moving art, so don't worry, they took very good care of them. They called me beforehand to get the dimensions, and when they arrived, they were very well prepared. The right size truck, lots of padding, everything. I'm sure your paintings are in good hands."

"How can you be sure? You don't even know his name. He can be using them for dart boards right now for all you know," Nikola snapped.

"No one is going to spend twenty thousand dollars for a dart board!" Martha snapped back. "You should be thankful to me for selling your paintings at all. You artists have no idea how hard it is to sell art. High and mighty attitude and all that - you have no concept of reality!" Martha started pacing quickly in front of the kitchenette. The quick beat of her stiletto heels on the hardwood floor echoed through the apartment.

"I still wish you hadn't sold them," Nikola said quietly, knowing she was defeated. She paused a moment and then added, "That man who came, do you think he was the client?"

"He could just as easily have been a lawyer from the firm." Martha looked over to Nikola, who was staring off at a far corner of the studio. She took a few steps towards her and added in a much softer voice, "Now don't look so glum over this, Nikola. You'll paint lots of other paintings. Besides, you've got to admit it, you could really use the money, couldn't you? Between travel expenses and the advances you've taken, you owe the gallery alone five grand. And you just can't count on that many sales at the receptions these days. I can't tell you how slow things have been lately. This money could take care of the rest of your trip."

It is true, Nikola thought, I could really use the money. She spent nearly all the money she had before she left to straighten up her affairs in Germany. This trip to New York, while a fairly generous offer from the gallery, was still very expensive for her. It seemed a small price to pay, considering the opportunity, but Nikola hadn't had enough money on hand and was forced to borrow from the gallery. Now, she was almost through the money she had borrowed and this sale was perfectly timed. If she was careful, she hoped the money from this could last for the rest of her trip.

Nikola sighed. "Yes, the money will be good. But next time I paint something that I don't want to sell, I'm not even showing it to you."

Martha emitted a false giggle and dismissed Nikola's comment with a wave of her hand. "Well, I can't blame you for being a little annoyed with the way things happened, but I promise you, I had no idea you would react this way or I would never have done it. But don't you think, that in the end, everything worked out for the best? Now, you don't have to worry about money, and you can relax for the reception Thursday. So just forget about all of this and get psyched for tomorrow. I'm sure you'll have a wonderful time. It should be a great party and there's several people I know you'd like to meet that have assured me they're coming. I bought lots of wine and cheese and all that sort of thing. It should definitely be nice, don't you think?"

Martha paused for a moment and looked over to Nikola for a response, but Nikola was staring into her wine glass, so she continued with what she had come to say.

"By the way, the gallery is giving a dinner in your honor at the Greenhouse restaurant across the street. That'll start after the reception, about eight o'clock. I'm inviting only a few of our very best clients and I know that the food there is exquisite. I just cherish it every time I eat there. So, anyway, forget all diets for an evening, and prepare to be witty and charming for a few more hours after the reception. Oh, it'll be a blast, Nikola, I'm sure."

"Don't worry, I'll do my very best to be witty and charming," Nikola replied with a sarcastic edge to her voice.
"Hopefully, you'll enjoy it too," Martha said firmly, apparently irritated by Nikola's continued resentment. She then glanced at her watch and said, "Oh dear, look at the time. I should've been out of here already. Well, it's been nice seeing you Nikola, and I'm looking forward to Thursday. Remember, don't get to the reception too early, you don't want to appear over-anxious, and you can't make a grand entrance early. But, on the other hand, you don't want to miss anybody either. Around six-twenty or so should be good, don't you think?"

"Six-twenty is fine."

"Wonderful. Cheer up dear, everything will work out great." Martha made her air-kissing gesture and hurried out of the apartment.

Nikola closed the door behind her, leaned against it, and let out a sigh. She was glad to be alone at last. She needed to be away from Martha in order to digest and accept that she would never again see the three paintings of her nightmare. She desperately wished she was back home. Here, she felt completely isolated. A piece of her had been torn away and there was nothing she could do to get it back. She thought of calling Eddie, but decided against it. Eddie wouldn't understand, she's so young and carefree. So complete. She doesn't need her paintings as a family.

Nikola grabbed the half-full bottle of wine, brought it to the coffee table, turned on the television, and sat down on the couch. She stared at the screen blankly, trying unsuccessfully to escape. Her mind kept drifting from the reception to the paintings and back again. Dreading the reception, she imagined herself surrounded by a hundred Marthas, all talking at once.

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