The Double Rose Read Online Free Page A

another curl.
    “You can't be serious. I'm so sorry!”
    Marie removed another illustration from its hanger. She created this piece during her junior year at the university. The art professor ridiculed it in front of his class, claiming that, although she had some talent, her fantasies would prevent her from ever being respected as a serious artist. Marie refused to be treated like a twenty-first century freak. With confidence and dignity, she responded, “Professor Higgins, this city is a glimpse into the future.” Because passing Higgins’ class was a requirement for an illustration major, most of the students looked shocked that anyone would dare defy the ornery old man.
    “The movers will be here Tuesday to pack and ship my collection.” Marie restored the illustration to its home on the wall. “That gives me only four days to prepare. Maman, Juliette, and Nicole are coming over tonight to help me sort out this mess. Is there any chance you can break free and join us?”
    “Let me call Derrick and see what I can work out. What time is everyone meeting at your studio?”
    “The girls will be here at seven o’clock, but Maman will be here at six for Chinese. You are welcome to eat with us.” Marie picked up her empty latte cup from the end table and savored its cinnamon scent, then stacked the cup on her lunch plate, and walked over to the refrigerator. At least she could salvage her chicken salad.
    * * *
    Geneviéve’s hands were full of spices and a large wooden spoon. She was exhausted after a long day and spending the last half-hour working at the kitchen table in a drone-like manner. The suggestion of joining them for take-out renewed life in her weary body. “Give me five minutes and I will call you back. Bye.” She clicked off the Bluetooth. Rubbing her chin with her spice-scented fingers, she contemplated on how to approach Derrick with the request to come home.
    Geneviéve hid the truth about Derrick’s indiscretions from her family. The fact he had not spent an evening under his own roof in over three months shamed her.
    Guilt, too, weighed heavily on her mind. She knew her youthful rebellion created her present drama. Perhaps , she wished more than hoped, he would consider coming home to spend some time with the kids if he knew I wouldn’t be her e.
    * * *
    Marie hung up the phone determined to give her mind a little rest from the drama of the situation. She pulled a menu for A Taste of China out from the top desk drawer, then swiveled the office chair one hundred and eighty degrees.
    So much for resolve .
    On the opposite wall prominently above the sofa hung her largest rendition of The Double Rose . The canvas measured six-feet high by four-feet wide. The vibrant colors begged the spectator to pluck it off the canvas. Every deep-red petal and piercing thorn had been portrayed with minute details. No. This is not the time to ponder the mystery of the double rose .
    The phone rang, diverting her attention.
    * * *
    “Hi.” Geneviéve restored all the vegetables to the fridge at record speed. “Derrick is on his way to a meeting. I was lucky that I caught him. Anyway, he says he has a deadline in the morning for a high-profile embezzlement case. There is no way he can watch the kids tonight.” She plopped a few potatoes into a wicker basket in the pantry. Then she motioned for her children, Jared and Emily, to get cleaned up.
    “Surprise, surprise! Geneviéve, I don’t know how you put up with that man. He is always on his way to a meeting. He always has a deadline. Meanwhile, life is passing by. When was the last time he did anything with you and the kids as a family, or spent time with his kids at all, or paid attention to you?”
    Relief did not outweigh Marie’s offensive remarks. She placed the wooden spoon back into the oak drawer and slammed it shut. “Marie, I know Derrick has his faults, but he is still my husband. People are not inanimate objects of art on display for you to