It was still there.
Rik stared at the painting and moved closer, his breath dislodging dust in tiny puffs as he moved closer, his fingers gently resting on its gilt-gold frame. God, she was beautiful. Absolutely stunning. One would think that she would become as ordinary as the sun after having seen her every day for the last two years but she hadn’t. To him, she was the sun, a brilliant orb that hung in the changeable sky, lighting his ordinary life and giving him a reason to go to work every day and to spend his lunch hour gazing upon her handsome countenance.
The first time, he’d visited the tiny shop, he’d been looking for some authentic bric-a-brac for his apartment and he was tired of seeing the usual wicker baskets and marble-filled vases. He wanted items that someone else had owned, that someone had taken time to preserve and care for. And that’s when he’d found her.
The painting was in the back right corner of the shop, hung just out of reach to safeguard its oils and highlighted by a cool, but bright artist lamp. He’d thrown a fleeting glance at the work of art but something had made him turn back around. Her face.
By the look of her dress, she was from the Regency era, the time of Jane Austen. The underdress was striped with cream and tan, playing a perfect counterpart to the slightly off-white shell. Her skin was alabaster, veined with tiny blue lines and rosy with the blush of good health and her robin’s-egg blue eyes warmed him with a mischievous twinkle. She sat at a pianoforte, one slender hand resting on the keys while the other nestled in the silk of her dress.
He knew it was stupid but he was in love.
But there was a major problem. The cost of the portrait was $1,000 dollars and Rik Kershaw didn’t have the money to spare. So every day, he came to pay homage to his love, standing and quietly gazing, hoping that she could see the sincere love in his heart and secretly dreading the day when someone would buy her.
“Hi, Rik.”
Marlena Compton, owner of The Hearthstone Shop, stepped up beside him, looking up at the painting. He gave her a quick glance. “Hi, Mrs. Compton.”
“Still admiring her?”
“Can’t seem to stop.” He answered truthfully. “She’s so beautiful.”
“Her name is Angelica, only daughter of Duke and Duchess Hawthorn. She was about twenty-two when she sat for this portrait.”
“I didn’t know you knew who she was.”
Marlena laughed. “You never asked.”
Rik stared into thalo-blue paled eyes, warm even on cool, creamy canvas. “Angelica.” He whispered reverently.
“She died not long after this portrait was finished. It was said that she was poisoned by a suitor whom she was being forced to marry.”
“Forced?”
“Yes. She was already past what was considered the marriageable age and her father was desperate to ensure that his line would be continued. Angelica was a modern girl. She didn’t want to get married without love and she turned down the proposal, embarrassing the Marquess of Ravenstone.”
“And he obviously didn’t take it well.”
“Not at all! He called the Duke of Hawthorn out and when the duke refused to answer, he poisoned Angelica and later killed himself.”
“Tragic.”
“Very.” Marlena sighed. “She was quite a lovely girl.”
“Yes, she is.”
Marlena heard his change of tense and shrugged. Maybe he was crazy. “So when are you going to buy her?”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Can’t afford it.”
“Well, what can you afford?” Rik’s mouth suddenly dried up and he coughed. Marlena raised an eyebrow, laughing. “That much, eh?”
“Sorry. I can afford $300 now.” He gazed up at Angelica. “But I can make payments.”
“Weekly?”
“Bi-weekly. That’s when I get paid.”
Marlena nodded. “Well, Rik, you’ve been coming here for so long that I think I can take a risk on you.” She extended her hand with a smile. “She’s yours.”
A shudder went through him and his breath caught as he shook her hand. “Are you sure? I’m not dreaming, am I?”
“No, you’re not dreaming. Come with me and I’ll draw up the paperwork.” She touched his arm and turned towards the cash register. “Then you can take your fair Angelica home on Friday.”
****** Rik was practically floating on air.
Today was the day that he got to take Angelica home. After making the deal, Marlena had promised that he could take delivery on Friday, his payday, for the allotted $300 he’d promised for the initial payment. He’d gone home and promptly made a place for the painting in his bedroom. He felt that she would be most comfortable there and he could gaze upon her beautiful face as soon as he awoke and before he dropped off to sleep.
He made a snap decision to visit her at lunch time, one last lunch visit and through the shop’s window, was stunned to see Marlena having a vicious verbal argument with a stranger. He was much larger than Rik himself, tall and broad in his black suit. He towered over the red-headed shop owner, his florid features thrust into her face, his thick fingers and brawny arms gesticulating madly. Rik entered the shop and Marlena turned instantly, hearing the bell ring.
“Rik!”
