XIV: Worth
AFTER DAHLIA STOMPED AWAY and effectively putting a damper on the lively mood, we all excused ourselves to "freshen up" in our rooms.
I currently lay staring up at the ceiling on my back, my ankles crossed and my hands neatly folded over my abdomen. I was bored out of my mind but I was too afraid to call Elle or Hannah. I'm sure they're busy planning the engagement party Isobel insisted on throwing this weekend, or even trying to do damage control of the Black Dahlia Situation as I've come to call it.
Eventually, I grew restless watching a blank ceiling and stood. Pacing, I thought of the possible cons of leaving the room but ruled that this boredom far outweighed the consequences of running into someone whom I'll act socially inept to.
Pulling open my door and stepping out, I made sure to take deliberate steps so the impeccable floor boards didn't creak under my weight. I'd long ago changed out of the heels into white leather loafers so there was no noise as I crept down the corridors.
I passed a few rooms, all of them closed that made the hallway look endless. I was walking so mindlessly that I almost missed it, a thin and narrow curving staircase in the middle of the corridors, the entrance hidden between two doors on the wall.
I've seen enough scary movies to know I should just ignore the discovery and keep on my way but the dimly lit stairs beckoned.
Looking around to confirm that I was alone in the corridor, I took the narrow steps up and followed the yellow light from above.
My feet touched the carpeted flat floor and I nearly gasped when I saw it. Hanging on the wall of this hidden chamber was a most astounding sight I almost tripped running to get a closer look.
The soft yellowed bulbs in the room produced just enough light to illuminate the room and the gilded golden frame that held a painting so lusted after in the art world it could easily sell for eighty million. Last I'd heard this particular piece had been owned by a corportation and kept in a safe never to see the light of day. This particular one could be a copy, even a forgery, but it looked so real.
I took a step forward and lightly traced the frame. The painting had been cut from the orginal canvas to fit into the frame, a tragedy in itself, but when I leaned forward to look for the nearly illegible signiture of Pablo Picasso, I heard a noise behind me.
"It's real."
I gasped and spun around to find Scott sitting with a book in the corner, practically hidden in the shadows. Clutching my hand to my heart I gave a shaky laugh, "Sorry, I didn't see you."
He closed his book and placed it on the end table besides him in the armchair. Scott nodded. "I didn't mean to frighten you."
I leaned against the wall next to the painting and crossed my arms over my chest, "So were you there that entire time?"
His lips curved into the ghost of a smile, "I was."
I raised an eyebrow, "And you figured you'd wait and try to give me a heart attack?"
Scott leaned his elbows on his knees, "I just wanted to see what you were going to do."
"Why?"
He shrugged, "You can tell a lot about a person by their behavior when they think no one's around."
I pushed my glasses up my nose and looked away, "What's your conclussion then?"
"I think you know the painting. A lot about it actually." I nodded once. I'd written an entire twenty page paper on Picasso's Blue collection, and the Les Noces de Pierrette, my favorite of his earliest work, was my main focus.
"It's real then?" I asked pushing off the wall. He nodded and motioned to the adjacent armchair, extending an invitaiton. I sat down but my eyes went back to the painting. The different hues of blue in the painting called to me and I could do nothing but stare.
"Gotta be honest, I don't know much about art. I just know it's a Picasso. It was my dad's."
"It's certainly an impressive piece to have in your private collection." I said without looking away from the stunning woman's naked spine and the richness of her navy dress.
"You don't approve?"
I spun to look at him and frowned. "How do you mean? It's one of my favorites; Picasso was a genius."
"I meant my father's collection. You made a face when I mentioned it."
"Oh," I said surprised that he'd caught that. I blushed, "I wouldn't dream of criticising the deceased."
His barely-there smile widened, "I'm not asking you to. His collection is now mine. It's your opinion on me."
I looked back at the painting. "I think it's a shame. A terrible, terrible loss."
"What is?"
"It's beauty," I said sneaking a look at him only to find that his eyes were already set on me. "Something that spectacular deserves to be seen, to be admired don't you think?"
He looked past me to the painting. "So you frown on private ownership?"
"Well if your family hadn't purchased it, the painting would still be in its original canvas. It was cut and placed in a gilded frame that takes away from the blue of the piece." I realized what I'd said and quickly apologized, "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to--"
"It's okay, just your opinion." he stood and brushed off his jeans. "Come, I want to show you something."
I followed Scott down the stairs and around the corner of the corridor. Scott placed his hand over the handles and turned to look at me, "Brace yourself for single-handedly the most ridiculous private collection in the world." I smiled and he opened two double doors to lead me inside.
My jaw fell slack at the sight. Paintings covered every inch of the west wall with greats like Da Vinci, Picasso, Van Gogh, and Monet. The rest of the walls had built in shelves displaying first edition novels so old the edges were frayed and the pages yellow, and a series of antiques. There was a particularly large collection of Chinese dynasty vases and ancient pottery tea sets.
"Wow," I said in awe. "It's like a museum in here."
Scott snorted, "Here's the best part." He walked forward and opened a drawer to reveal rows and rows of rare, exquisite diamonds and gemstones, tiaras and jewelry. "Maxton handpicked the pieces for Elle's ring here. She's wearing a piece of history on her finger."
"I'm not easily impressed by shiny things,"I said looking away to face the Claude Monet that caught my eye the second I walked in. "I can't help the allure art has for me."
"Agreed. I just think all of this is unnecessary. But that's the rich; they measure their worth with their things."
"How do you measure your worth then?" He turned to look at me and raised his eyebrows.
"How do you?" he countered. I shrugged and he leaned back to look at the Monet with me. "I've found that people associate themselves with others to prove their worth."
"Really?" I asked confused. "How so?"
"Did you know Simone?" I shook my head. "She was Maxton's fiancee."
"Max was married once before?" I was kind of surprised to say the least. He was older than Cole, but not by much. He was, however, infinitely more mature than his friend and while I can imagine Max married I can't even picture Cole dating exclusively.
"No, he never went through with it." I could feel his eyes on me as I eyed the paintings, probably gauging my reaction. "He was only with her to prove to himself his own success. That was a way he measured his worth."
"That's kind of harsh," I said softly.
"I don't mean it in a bad way. You asked for an example and I gave you one. He was a different person before he met Elle."
I nodded, "They're meant to be."
"What I can't figure out is why your with Cole Richmond. Don't get me wrong, he's a friend but I can't figure out who comes out of that relationship winning."
"Excuse me?" I asked pushing off the wall to look at him straight on. "What do you mean by that?"
"Again, I don't mean to be rude. It's just something I saw..."
"What did you see then?" I said with an edge.
He looked like he wanted to change the subject but last minute he caved. "I saw a conflict. An internal one. It's almost like he can't get it straight if he wants you or not.
I stayed stunned for a second. He seemed so sure of what he was saying but I think he got us confused: it's me that doesn't know if to give Cole and I a chance.
"My question is," he said without an hint of judgement on his face, "you a measure of his worth, or is he of yours?"
"I'm afraid you've got it all wrong. Cole and I aren't together."
He looked up with surprise coating his features. Just as he was about to say something we heard the door creak further open.
Cole popped his head into the room and walked inside. "There you are. Isobel says dinner will be served promptly at seven." Cole eyed us standing side by side and locked his jaw.
Scott spoke for us. "Thanks Cole."
Cole looked like positively livid but his voice sounded even and calm. "See you then."
I felt fidgety watching his tense back leave. I didn't want him to be mad or think wrongfully of me so I offered him a small smile when he turned at the sound of his name. "Uh we'll be right down."
His eyes looked so alive, consumed with white hot anger...and dare I say jealousy? Either way it made me feel like I've done something wrong by getting caught here with Scott and I walked forward to put some distance between us.
"I'm going riding in the morning," Scott said breaking the uncomfortable silence that followed Cole out the door. "Would you join me tomorrow?"
"I have to warn you, I've never ridden a horse before. But I'd lover the chance to try."
Scott offered me his ghost smile. "I'll see you at daybreak then. Come on, let's go to down before Cole or my mother kill me for delivering you late to dinner."
I laughed and followed him out. He had probably sensed the tension between Cole and I, because it was the last time he mentioned his theory of worth to me.
A/N: *Early update!!!* I'm trying to get the not overly exciting chapters quickly out of the way so I can move on to the good stuff and Maxelle's engagement party.
So Scott is a bit odd. He's quiet and observant, and he particularly likes quietly observing Poppy. Scott is kind of blunt and even a little harsh but he's really nice you'll all soon see. Plus I love me a love triangle, especially when they're all under the same roof ;)
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