Page 9 of Maximus

“You know, I have a showing coming up soon. I’ve rented out the Krasnaya Polyana resort. The showing is by invitation only. If you’d like to attend, it could be arranged.”

Max cocked his head. “When?” He looked at his phone and made a show of sliding to the calendar app, which he’d preloaded with events and meetings that didn’t exist. She pointed to the weekend in question. He lifted his hand to his face and scrubbed the side of it as he sighed, looking at the app. “Does the show go on all weekend?” He looked up at her as he asked, making sure she knew how busy his cover was and that he was trying to work her into his schedule.

“Yes, it’s a holiday of sorts for my employer. Each night, we’ll display a different portion of his holdings.”

Max frowned. “You’ll be incredibly busy. Are you sure you want me there?”

Her blush was obvious. “I have many people coming. Besides, I have it all laid out. Of course, there will be problems;there always are, and if my employer wants a specific painting shown at the last minute, that can cause headaches.”

“Your employer is that impulsive?” He shook his head as he messed with his calendar.

“He is …” Max glanced up as Elena chose her words. “Demanding as most powerful people are.”

Max cocked his head, dropping his phone. “He hasn’t …. No, that’s none of my business.” He brought the phone back up and messed with the app.

“What? What were you going to say?” Elena asked, clearly confused.

“He hasn’t abused his position, has he?” Max frowned. “I’ve known many rich and powerful people who believe having money grants them certain privileges.” He looked at her until what he was implying registered.

She put her hand to her chest. “Oh, no. He’s never been inappropriate. He has a temper, but he’s never treated me improperly.”

“Well, that’s a relief. I hate people who assume wealth and privilege give them the right to take from people who have less than they have.” Max sighed.

“I don’t have that type of relationship with him. I can count on my two hands how many times I’ve seen him in person. The last time was just not long ago when we received some new art. He’s rarely in public, and security must be maintained for people of his importance, as I’m sure you know.”

“I’m well aware,” he agreed and nodded his head. “Yes, I can attend, and I’d like to see your collection.”

“My employer’s collection.” She smiled at him.

“True, but I assume you manage, catalog, monitor, purchase, and deaccession.”

“At a minimum. Don’t forget conservation and restoration.” She walked with him along the long corridor of paintings until they stopped in front of the next painting.

“Restoration is a demanding and precise niche. I’m not aware of any reputable restorationists in Russia.”

“Ah, true, none working privately, but the State museum does have an easel restorationist who’s very good. We’ve occasionally secured her services by greasing the palms of the government machine. I’ve had her work graded, and according to my insurance brokers, it’s exceptional.”

They moved on to the next painting, and Max stared at the canvas as he asked, “I don’t mean to seem too forward, but would you be willing to join me for dinner? It’s been many months since I’ve had the pleasure of company who could tell the difference between a giclée and understand the minutia of placement in a gallery.”

“Minutia? Oh, you didn’t just say that.” Elena gasped and batted her eyelashes. “I spendmonthsdetermining where a painting will show and at what angle and with what lighting.”

Max laughed at the staged look of pain on the woman’s face. “Perhaps I should have said nuances of placement.”

“That’s a much better statement, and thank you, yes. I’d enjoy having dinner with you.” They spent the next three hours examining every painting. What Max hadn’t learned from his studies, he learned from Elena during their discussions. Of course, he made a mental note of what she said and would validate the knowledge or, if need be, correct her when he’d checked for accuracy. Politely, of course. She was sharp-witted, quick to understand his dry humor, and just as critical of the art as he thought she would be, although she found something in each painting to compliment. That was the artist in her—the understanding of the effort to place brush to canvas and show the world your mind's vision. As they talked, he absorbedthe sense of calm that radiated around her. He took protective actions to ensure she wasn’t crowded and the heat he felt being so close to her. Each factor was entered into the computation she was giving him, and still, there was no answer as to why he was so interested in her. With each passing conversation, he could feel an attraction forming. Examining it didn’t yield any fruit. For the first time, he was stumped. It wouldn’t last long, but the anomaly was curious and a bit exciting.

“Where would you like to dine?” Elena asked as they finished the exhibit.

He shook his head. “I have no idea. I’m afraid I’ve been ordering in from the restaurant in my hotel. Do you have a suggestion?”

Elena considered the question before pulling out her phone and calling. She asked in fluent Russian, “Tosh, do you have a table tonight?” She shook her head. “No. Not for him. For me and an acquaintance.” She smiled and thanked the person on the other end. “We have a table at a beautiful little seaside restaurant. The balcony has heaters so we can listen to the sea as we dine.”

“That sounds perfect. Shall I call my car?”

She laughed. “No, it isn’t far. We can walk.” They gathered their coats from the check station at the entrance to the gallery. She placed her matching cape over her shoulders.

He helped her and then shrugged into his coat. “In America, nobody walks. A block or three, it doesn’t matter.”

She stopped and turned to him. A look of fear in her eyes. “Did you want a car? I didn’t mean to assume.”

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