Page 25 of The Artist
“Good.”
“Can I see your drawing?”
I showed it to her and as always, Freya was kind with her words.
“I love how you caught the light reflecting on the snow and the tiny bird in the tree. You’re so gifted, Belle.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you take commissions?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, do you do work for hire?”
“Yes, you know I work with babies.”
“No, I meant artwork. Could I hire you to paint something for me? Indiana built a magnificent house on his family’s Island, but it lacks personality and I’d love to gift him with a painting made especially for him.”
“What were you thinking?”
“I’m not sure, but maybe we could figure it out together over the next days.” Freya brushed my brown hair back. “I’ve always liked how your hair has so many colors, Belle.”
Picking up a strand hanging down my front, I studied it. “It’s weird.”
“Don’t say that. It’s like your hair follicles are as artistic as you and couldn’t settle on one color for your hair. I see golden, brown, blond, and dark all mixed together. Unless you had a stylist do it. Did you?”
“No. I was blond as a young child and then it’s changed over the years.”
“I think it’s my favorite part of your looks, or maybe…” Freya tilted her head to one side. “Your lips are pretty too.”
“Thanks. So are yours.”
“What are you two talking about?” Victor asked from the couch. “Are you complaining about me wanting the couch?”
Freya gave a discreet eyeroll in my direction and then she turned around with a soft smile. “I know it’s hard to believe, dear Victor, but you’re not half as important to us as you think you are. Your name didn’t even come up.”
With a skeptical expression he pushed up the sleeves of his teal-colored shirt. “I know you’re annoyed that I beat you in chess.”
“Is that what you call it?” Freya moved gracefully toward the table where the board still stood. Picking up the white queen, she continued, “I still remember how shocked and broken you were the first time we played and I won. Since then I can’t bear to see your jaw shaking with humiliation. You take chess way too seriously.”
“You didn’t win. I wasn’t trying.”
“So you keep saying. Because you didn’t think a Northlander could ever outsmart a genius like you, isn’t that right?”
“I have the highest IQ in my generation,” he boasted.
“Which makes it even more humiliating that you lost to me. Personally, I don’t care what people think of me, but if you need another moment to brag about your win against me today, please go ahead. We’ll wait, or do you prefer for us to applaud you? Would that fill your fragile self-esteem?”
A few of the others laughed and I couldn’t suppress my smile. Victor was admired back home and seen as the golden boy of our country. All through school he’d aced every test and easily won every academic competition he participated in. With the highest IQ measured in France, Victor was used to respect, and it was amusing to see Freya tease him like he was nothing but a vain fool in her eyes.
“I do not have frail self-esteem.”
“No?” She shrugged. “My mistake. I’ve just noticed that you don’t like it when we point out that Belle’s English is superior to yours.”
Victor’s lips stretched into a thin line.
Freya chuckled. “There it is again, the look of disdain. You can’t stand not being the best, can you?”
