to decide on a silver pattern and finish the guest list before the invitations can go out.”
“Later, Mama.” Menina escaped to set the table. She knew she ought to care more about dotted swiss versus tulle, flower arrangements and silver patterns, and all the things that brought joy to her mother’s heart, but she didn’t. The bride thing wasn’t the big deal, the big deal was living with Theo—she couldn’t wait. Aside from the fact they could
finally
have sex, it would be heaven to wake up together, knowing that she’d see him every evening, too. She hugged herself thinking about it.
While she knew for a fact that other girls had a flourishing sex life without a scarlet
H
for harlot appearing on their foreheads, she wasn’t exactly brimming with sexual confidence. Menina had indeed listened to her mother’s warnings about sex before marriage and all that stuff about cows and free milk. And Theo, who could have picked any girl in the world, had picked her. Deep down Menina thought maybe her mother had been right. She had been too terrified of losing him to risk finding out.
C HAPTER 3
Laurel Run, Georgia, April 2000
Menina and Theo hadn’t decided about their honeymoon. They were thinking of a week in Venice, another in Paris—Theo’s choice, not that Menina was complaining, but if they could extend their honeymoon another week it would be fun to go to Madrid together. She could visit the Prado, see the Tristan Mendozas there, and find what other information the Prado had. She was quite excited by the idea and sure Theo would like it.
Meanwhile she drove her mother crazy by slipping away to the library when she was supposed to be doing some wedding task or other. She could only find one reference book that mentioned Tristan Mendoza, who had been born around 1487 in Andalusia, studied in Italy, and returned to Spain where he was hugely successful until he abruptly abandoned court. It wasn’t because he had died—a later contemporary reference referred to “the great artist Mendoza, now the poor pilgrim and wretched mendicant.”
The only other bit of information that proved he hadn’t died at court was a signed work from this later period, documented as having cropped up in England before World War II. It was a painting of a woman in a cloak, bearing Mendoza’s signature with the characteristic small bird beneath, and bought at a Sotheby’s auction by a wealthy English collector in London. Unfortunatelythat painting no longer existed. During the Blitz, a German bomb destroyed the collector’s Mayfair house. After the war, an inventory of the contents of the London house, including the art collection, was found in papers kept at the collector’s country house. The inventory referred to a painting of “an unknown holy woman, a rare, late work of Tristan Mendoza.”
The reference book suggested there might be more of his work in private Spanish collections if they hadn’t been looted or destroyed in the Spanish Civil War in the 1930s, but his only known paintings were in the Prado. Menina thought this was pretty convenient, and if the Prado did know something about private collections, they could put her in touch.
Menina planned to ask Theo about Madrid the following weekend. The Bonners were holding a special dinner party that Theo said was important for them to attend.
When he came to pick her up that night, she was excited and nervous. Pauline had called to tell her the dinner party included the governor and his wife, an elderly state legislator, and some important and influential campaign contributors. Menina had gone shopping and was feeling glamorous in a new scoop-neck black dress with a sassy ruffled skirt, and Sarah-Lynn’s pearls. Her hair swung over her shoulders, and her engagement ring sparkled on her left hand. She kissed her parents good night and the couple left hand in hand.
In the car Theo was preoccupied, so to fill the silence Menina chatted about wanting to go to Madrid.
“Later, Mama.” Menina escaped to set the table. She knew she ought to care more about dotted swiss versus tulle, flower arrangements and silver patterns, and all the things that brought joy to her mother’s heart, but she didn’t. The bride thing wasn’t the big deal, the big deal was living with Theo—she couldn’t wait. Aside from the fact they could
finally
have sex, it would be heaven to wake up together, knowing that she’d see him every evening, too. She hugged herself thinking about it.
While she knew for a fact that other girls had a flourishing sex life without a scarlet
H
for harlot appearing on their foreheads, she wasn’t exactly brimming with sexual confidence. Menina had indeed listened to her mother’s warnings about sex before marriage and all that stuff about cows and free milk. And Theo, who could have picked any girl in the world, had picked her. Deep down Menina thought maybe her mother had been right. She had been too terrified of losing him to risk finding out.
C HAPTER 3
Laurel Run, Georgia, April 2000
Menina and Theo hadn’t decided about their honeymoon. They were thinking of a week in Venice, another in Paris—Theo’s choice, not that Menina was complaining, but if they could extend their honeymoon another week it would be fun to go to Madrid together. She could visit the Prado, see the Tristan Mendozas there, and find what other information the Prado had. She was quite excited by the idea and sure Theo would like it.
Meanwhile she drove her mother crazy by slipping away to the library when she was supposed to be doing some wedding task or other. She could only find one reference book that mentioned Tristan Mendoza, who had been born around 1487 in Andalusia, studied in Italy, and returned to Spain where he was hugely successful until he abruptly abandoned court. It wasn’t because he had died—a later contemporary reference referred to “the great artist Mendoza, now the poor pilgrim and wretched mendicant.”
The only other bit of information that proved he hadn’t died at court was a signed work from this later period, documented as having cropped up in England before World War II. It was a painting of a woman in a cloak, bearing Mendoza’s signature with the characteristic small bird beneath, and bought at a Sotheby’s auction by a wealthy English collector in London. Unfortunatelythat painting no longer existed. During the Blitz, a German bomb destroyed the collector’s Mayfair house. After the war, an inventory of the contents of the London house, including the art collection, was found in papers kept at the collector’s country house. The inventory referred to a painting of “an unknown holy woman, a rare, late work of Tristan Mendoza.”
The reference book suggested there might be more of his work in private Spanish collections if they hadn’t been looted or destroyed in the Spanish Civil War in the 1930s, but his only known paintings were in the Prado. Menina thought this was pretty convenient, and if the Prado did know something about private collections, they could put her in touch.
Menina planned to ask Theo about Madrid the following weekend. The Bonners were holding a special dinner party that Theo said was important for them to attend.
When he came to pick her up that night, she was excited and nervous. Pauline had called to tell her the dinner party included the governor and his wife, an elderly state legislator, and some important and influential campaign contributors. Menina had gone shopping and was feeling glamorous in a new scoop-neck black dress with a sassy ruffled skirt, and Sarah-Lynn’s pearls. Her hair swung over her shoulders, and her engagement ring sparkled on her left hand. She kissed her parents good night and the couple left hand in hand.
In the car Theo was preoccupied, so to fill the silence Menina chatted about wanting to go to Madrid.
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