grumbling,
he’d do it. Isabel still had to give her speech introducing the guest artists,
and he supposed that afterwards, he and Trudy would be expected to mingle some
more. He poked a wiener with a toothpick, then popped it in his mouth. Mmmm, succulent. A split-second later he
nearly spit it back out, unable to believe what he was seeing. It was Robert!
In the all-together. Just as naked as the day he was born, the colorful canvass
centered right behind the hot dogs, of all things. Miniature hot dogs, Kip reminded himself. He carted his plate
toward the canvas to get a closer look, realizing that Robert’s attributes more
than measured up. Kip set down his plate on a nearby cart, suddenly losing his
appetite.
“Wonderful, isn’t it?” A woman wearing a name tag that read Elizabeth asked him. “I believe that’s
Isabel’s most promising work.”
“Isabel?” Kip felt the blood drain from his face.
“She’s our featured artist tonight,” the woman explained, “and
this exhibit’s curator.” She studied him a moment, her face lighting up. “Say,
aren’t you Mr. Miller?”
“Your father’s taking an awfully long time getting his food,”
Trudy told Isabel. “I’ll go see what’s keeping him.” Just then a couple of arts
patrons approached, wanting to offer their congratulations to Isabel. After a
brief introduction, Trudy excused herself and made for the bar, where Kip stood
pouring two glasses of wine.
“That’s sweet of you, dear,” Trudy said, assuming one of
them was for her. “But I haven’t even finished my first yet.”
Without saying a word, Kip downed one, then set it on the
table. “These are both for me.”
“But what…?”
He motioned with the second glass still in his hand, and
Trudy’s gaze traveled across the room. “Oh my!” she said, her gaze falling on
the picture. She stepped a little closer as Kip trailed her. “Is that Robert?”
“In the flesh,” Kip answered dryly.
Trudy nursed her wine and considered the portrait. “Well,
well. He certainly has grown up.”
“Trudy!” Kip scolded. “Watch yourself.”
“I’m just saying—”
“I know what you’re saying. He’s no longer Mr. Little Bitty
from next door. He’s got the whole Oscar Mayer thing going on.”
“Kip!”
“I see you two found my painting,” Isabel said, approaching.
Trudy shot Kip a warning look, telling him to hold his
tongue.
“Yes, dear,” Trudy said sweetly. “You did…mighty good work.”
Isabel sighed at the portrait. “It helped that I had a
mighty good model.”
Kip’s temples pulsed so hard he feared his whole face might
explode. “I just have one question.” Trudy stealthily pinched him, but he
continued anyway. “Did he pose for the whole class, or was it a private
sitting?”
Two and a half hours later, Trudy and Kip exited the Smith
Center. He plucked a hanky from his pocket to wipe his brow, not knowing how he’d
lived through it. His only daughter was not only involved with some leech with
a treacherous secret, she’d been painting nudie pictures of him too! Kip didn’t
know how, but things seemed to have gone from bad to worse. In fact, he didn’t
see how they could get any more abysmal. That was what he thought until he saw
Robert stepping to the curb from a cab.
Trudy tugged on his elbow, apparently having seen Robert as
well. “I want you to remember yourself,” she said. “And think of your daughter.
This is her night, sweetheart. We wouldn’t want to do anything to ruin it.”
They descended the granite stairs and met Robert halfway as
he ascended. “Mr. and Mrs. Miller,” he said with surprise.
“It’s nice to see you, Robert,” Trudy said. “We didn’t think
you could make it.”
“Almost didn’t,” he said, a bit winded. “Got a last-minute
flight back and had to hightail it here from the airport.”
“Where were you again?” Kip asked, purposely oblivious.
Robert’s gaze darted to the museum entrance,
he’d do it. Isabel still had to give her speech introducing the guest artists,
and he supposed that afterwards, he and Trudy would be expected to mingle some
more. He poked a wiener with a toothpick, then popped it in his mouth. Mmmm, succulent. A split-second later he
nearly spit it back out, unable to believe what he was seeing. It was Robert!
In the all-together. Just as naked as the day he was born, the colorful canvass
centered right behind the hot dogs, of all things. Miniature hot dogs, Kip reminded himself. He carted his plate
toward the canvas to get a closer look, realizing that Robert’s attributes more
than measured up. Kip set down his plate on a nearby cart, suddenly losing his
appetite.
“Wonderful, isn’t it?” A woman wearing a name tag that read Elizabeth asked him. “I believe that’s
Isabel’s most promising work.”
“Isabel?” Kip felt the blood drain from his face.
“She’s our featured artist tonight,” the woman explained, “and
this exhibit’s curator.” She studied him a moment, her face lighting up. “Say,
aren’t you Mr. Miller?”
“Your father’s taking an awfully long time getting his food,”
Trudy told Isabel. “I’ll go see what’s keeping him.” Just then a couple of arts
patrons approached, wanting to offer their congratulations to Isabel. After a
brief introduction, Trudy excused herself and made for the bar, where Kip stood
pouring two glasses of wine.
“That’s sweet of you, dear,” Trudy said, assuming one of
them was for her. “But I haven’t even finished my first yet.”
Without saying a word, Kip downed one, then set it on the
table. “These are both for me.”
“But what…?”
He motioned with the second glass still in his hand, and
Trudy’s gaze traveled across the room. “Oh my!” she said, her gaze falling on
the picture. She stepped a little closer as Kip trailed her. “Is that Robert?”
“In the flesh,” Kip answered dryly.
Trudy nursed her wine and considered the portrait. “Well,
well. He certainly has grown up.”
“Trudy!” Kip scolded. “Watch yourself.”
“I’m just saying—”
“I know what you’re saying. He’s no longer Mr. Little Bitty
from next door. He’s got the whole Oscar Mayer thing going on.”
“Kip!”
“I see you two found my painting,” Isabel said, approaching.
Trudy shot Kip a warning look, telling him to hold his
tongue.
“Yes, dear,” Trudy said sweetly. “You did…mighty good work.”
Isabel sighed at the portrait. “It helped that I had a
mighty good model.”
Kip’s temples pulsed so hard he feared his whole face might
explode. “I just have one question.” Trudy stealthily pinched him, but he
continued anyway. “Did he pose for the whole class, or was it a private
sitting?”
Two and a half hours later, Trudy and Kip exited the Smith
Center. He plucked a hanky from his pocket to wipe his brow, not knowing how he’d
lived through it. His only daughter was not only involved with some leech with
a treacherous secret, she’d been painting nudie pictures of him too! Kip didn’t
know how, but things seemed to have gone from bad to worse. In fact, he didn’t
see how they could get any more abysmal. That was what he thought until he saw
Robert stepping to the curb from a cab.
Trudy tugged on his elbow, apparently having seen Robert as
well. “I want you to remember yourself,” she said. “And think of your daughter.
This is her night, sweetheart. We wouldn’t want to do anything to ruin it.”
They descended the granite stairs and met Robert halfway as
he ascended. “Mr. and Mrs. Miller,” he said with surprise.
“It’s nice to see you, Robert,” Trudy said. “We didn’t think
you could make it.”
“Almost didn’t,” he said, a bit winded. “Got a last-minute
flight back and had to hightail it here from the airport.”
“Where were you again?” Kip asked, purposely oblivious.
Robert’s gaze darted to the museum entrance,
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