Read Treasures for Free Online Page B

name. That’s why his work’s in the window.”
    “Ah, I see.” He knew that he had spent an awful lot on the office, and he was due to move out of the walk-up flat next month, and would need to furnish the new place, but he wanted this picture.
    “I’m going to buy it,” he said. Then, bluntly, although it was no one’s business, he added, “The price is a bit high for me at present, but this will be the first picture I’ll have bought, and I really want it.”
    “I congratulate you on your taste. You have a fine eye. And you will not be sorry. In a few years’ time I predict you’ll get twice the price back should you ever decide to sell it.”
    After identifying himself Eddy wrote a check and carried his happy purchase home, where he hung it on the wall opposite his bed. It was a good investment, the man had said, so it was nice to know he might someday sell it and get something more valuable in its place. So much the better. That was not why he had bought it, though, and he did not believe he would ever want to sell it.
    At night his room, because of the streetlamps, was only gray-dark. He lay for a while with open eyes, gazing at his purchase and smiling to himself. The artist had made magic in his ordinary little room; the purest starlight streamed from the picture on the wall and quivered, touching the very air with silver.
    And this beautiful thing was his. I’m really moving up, he thought, before he fell asleep. I’m moving up.
    • • •
    In the service wing of the building Connie had a little office, not much larger than a cubby, with a desk and two wooden chairs. One morning a young man knocked at the open door and introduced himself. “I’m Richard Tory, and I understand you’re the person to see about a surprise luncheon for my mother. You are Miss Osborne, aren’t you?”
    “I am, but I’m always called ‘Connie’ here.”
    “I didn’t know. I hardly ever come to the club, although my family’s been here since before I was born.”
    His was, indeed, an unfamiliar face. If she had seen him before, she would have remembered him, for he had a distinctive crown of light, very curly hair, fair skin, and aquiline features that one would more readily expect to find on a dark Roman aristocrat. Nor would she have expected him to be the son of a “crank.”
    He gave her a smile that was almost shy. “I’ve never done anything like this before. I hope you’ll help me.”
    “No problem at all. You want to give a luncheon.”
    “Yes. It’s my mother’s fiftieth birthday, and I thought of assembling her best friends, about fifty in all. I’d love to have it at home, only then it wouldn’t be a surprise. You’ll be sure not to give it away?”
    “No, no, don’t worry.”
    “I suppose you know my folks?”
    “Yes, they’ve been here quite often.”
    “My mother likes things simple. What I mean is, no favors or balloons, nothing like that. It wouldn’t be her style.”
    “I shouldn’t think so.” The words had come out unbidden, with a ring that gave Connie a shock, for hemight well have heard a sardonic tone that she had not intended.
    But his eyes held humor. “Well, then, I’ll leave it to you. Plenty of flowers on the tables—she loves flowers. In wicker baskets, do you think?”
    “That’s always pretty. Any special color?”
    He considered. “She likes blue. Cornflowers, maybe? Cornflowers and white daisies?”
    “You have good taste. I can get blue-and-white checked tablecloths, a country-garden-party effect. How does that sound?”
    “Good, good! And you’ll know what ladies like to eat at these lunches?”
    “Oh, most of them are dieting. Why don’t you let me talk to the chef and make up a menu? Then I can phone you for your approval, and we can go over more details.”
    “Of course. Be sure not to call me at home, though. I live with my parents. Here’s my office number. And thanks a lot.”
    What a nice person, Connie thought when he left.
Nice.
She