Page 36 of Savage Prince
My chin jerks in her direction. “What? Where?”
She hands me the plate. “Italy, of course. Where else would I buy a vineyard?”
I lower the selection of meats, cheeses, and fruits to the table and absently reach for a linen napkin while I turn her statement over in my head. “Have you been planning the acquisition long?”
Harriet’s throaty laugh washes over me, instantly making me realize how silly the question probably is.
“Of course not. A friend of mine mentioned today he was tight on money and was going to sell to his neighbor—a boor of a man who insulted my landscapes by calling themquaintwhile I was there—so I offered to buy it purely out of spite. He’s wanted the land for years, but Pietro has managed to hold on to it, even though he has a terrible head for business. He’s much better at cunnilingus.”
I choke on the piece of cheese I just popped into my mouth.
“Good Lord, girl. Do you need the Heimlich?” Harriet pronounces the word like she’s suddenly become a native German speaker. Which, for all I know, she could be. Nothing about this woman surprises me anymore, except, apparently, her dropping the wordcunnilingusover champagne.
I cover my mouth as I cough and shake my head. “That’s ... interesting.”
“It really is. He has this technique that’s truly unique. He does this thing with his tongue that ... I don’t know how to explain it.”
She glances up at the sky as though trying to find the right words, and I change the subject as quickly as humanly possible, latching on to anything I can.
“How do you handle that?”
“Well, normally I’d grab him by the hair, but those patches around the side are getting a bit sparse—”
Thankful I’m not chewing anymore or in danger of choking, I quickly interrupt. “No, I mean the comments about your art.”
“From small-minded idiots? Usually, I pay them no mind.” She smiles sweetly. “But sometimes I like to ruin their lives. It depends on my mood. This one time, I contacted a hit man ...” She looks away as though remembering the incident, and I’m a little frightened by what she might say next.
There’s no doubt in my mind that Harriet is batshit crazy, but I’m also a little in awe of her.
“You had someone killed?”
Her expression sharpens. “Darling, don’t you know you never admit to those things? Legal Basics 101.” She reaches for her plate and loads it again. “Why the sudden interest in the irrelevant opinions of others? Yourfriendfinally going to get over herself and sell one of those sculptures?”
This time, I nearly choke on a piece of meat.
Harriet’s been after me to sell one of the two pieces in my apartment. My furniture may not be much to write home about, but she’s enraptured with the small sculpture of a blue heron, my mama’s favorite bird. I’m not sure why I keep it around, but I can’t bring myself to sell it either.
I take a solid ten seconds to decide whether to seek her advice, but it’s already a foregone conclusion. Harriet’s opinion, even though it may be zany, is one that I value.
“She actually did. It was an accident.”
Harriet’s smile threatens to crack her face. “I knew it! I saw the paper this morning while I was having my beignet. There’s no way that douchebag Standish could’ve made that piece. I recognized the style immediately. Shows how low that jackass would stoop to try to take credit for it.”
Her assessment of the situation stuns me. “Actually, he was furious to have it attributed to him. Said it was trash.”
The admission feels like glass shards slicing up my throat.
Harriet’s smile fades. “If there was a vineyard he wanted to buy, I’d buy it up this instant. The man is a disgrace to the community. He called me a crazy old lady just last week when I asked him how he found so many crayons to melt to make his latest blob. God forbid he ever makes something brown. It’ll look like he’s been eating too much dairy and decided to put his excrement to use.”
The laughter that bubbles up deep in my belly is the second-best balm to my shredded soul, following Harriet’s ruthless assessment and accompanying cackle.
When we both stop to catch our breath and clutch our stomachs, her expression shifts to sobriety for a beat.
“Normally I wouldn’t be so harsh about art. It’s all subjective, after all, but I truly can’t abide that man.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to sayafter his comments about Keira, you might not have to abide him much longer, but I keep it in following Harriet’s Legal Basics 101 comment.
“Well, his subjective opinion was pretty brutal.”
