The evening rolled like steam from an forgotten tea kettle. And since this perfect stranger had approached Daniella at the Lennox, she felt lost in a fog of appreciation. From the red carpet to the roses to the artwork, it all left her speechlesss. . . . especially Simon Rose. 

Simon Rose. He was one of the biggest benefactors in the entirety of the state of South Carolina. Certainly one of the most discreet. Even though Daniella was well known herself for being in the background as the best grant writer in the area, she had always been personally acquainted with each and every executive board member on all of the 26 committees she’d been hired for in the past seven years since she and Stan relocated to the region from Chicago suburb of Crystal Heights.

Against her upbringing she decided to live with Stan. His place was closer to Hawthorne College where she was pursuing her grantsmanship certification. She always had an MBA from Columbia where they met after a tailgate party. The cappuccinos and the conversation with Stan warmed her heart. She wanted to be on her own; Stan needed someone to go over a contract. And Danielle found it hard to refuse the appeals of this popular, but seemingly caring number one draft pick for a national team.

She left home and friends to be with her man, and all the while he left behind a band of sports groupies that Daniella didn’t miss at all. Some of those chickenheads even mailed Stan their thong underwear. The worst package came from his ex-fiancée, Gina. . . .crotchless, and scented creamy human lust. That was the last act of defiance for Daniella who intercepted the UPS delivery when she came home from the Maywood Community Church of the Christ that Saturday from working on a grant for their proposed senior community. She remembers confronting Stan. . . and he was desperate to keep her.

Baby, I don’t care about Gina anymore. I want you Dani,” he implored

“Why do you keep accepting these packages from all this sluts?”

“We’ll move. Anywhere you want to go. Just say you’ll marry me.”

“I don’t know Stan. . . I can’t take this anymore!”

“What about just getting completely away?

“Like in Shrek’s ‘Far Far Away’?”

“Anywhere you want baby. I just never want you to leave my side.”

They married exactly one week later. Friday, October 12, 1990. No invitations, no family, just a courthouse wedding. Cook County Circuit Court. Couple Number 14.

Daniella thought at the time that she was the victor. But now she had to admit in her heart, “Stan won”. And the way she was raised, it was going to be for better or for worse. Another championship performance by a heartthrob of an athlete. If only she’s held out a little longer to get to know this man for what he truly revealed. She really needed four more years to just get to know what she wanted in her life.  

But her mind wasn’t on Stan now. Dr. Rose was mature in stature, seasoned in knowledge and age. Something about him allured Danielle, and it was more than art. This man was a gentleman where it counted.

They walked out on the terrace overlooking the bluffs of Fox Brook. Simon Rose hung on her every word. He was well-built, well dressed, but not formal. More dressy casual. The fabric on his ivory cable knit turtleneck sweater and his stonewashed designer jeans that draped neatly over his lower frame gave him a more relaxed look than the photos Daniella has seen in the business section of the weekly financial column he authored each Sunday.

His column always focused on the newest business start ups, strategies for downsizings of struggling companies, how to give back to the community, and often rebuked corruption like money laundering schemes that did nothing but hurt the progress of Fox Brook.

It was a column she always turned to first to keep up with the latest news. It even helped her cold call successfully on potential new business clients for her own passion. . . helping people obtain needed funding for their business dreams.

Stan always turned straight to the sports section. It seemed all they had in common was specialty coffee drinks.

Her companion for the moment leaned one elbow against the ornately scrolled oakwood balcony rail.  “I’ve followed your impressive progress working with non-profits too Ms. Donovan. Why is it that we chance to meet so unintentionally?”  He proceeded to nurse his Manhattan, casually focused on his drink but more on his newfound company.

Daniella sipped on her fifth club soda that evening. “Well,” she replied laughing nervously, “If my mind was focused on important things like where to put my keys, I guess we might still be knowing each other in-name-only Dr. Rose!”

“No formalities needed. ‘Simon’ please, and may I address you informally as well?”

Daniella did not protest to what she felt was a simple irresistable suggestion.

“Tell me, Mr." She hesitated and backtracked. "I mean, Simon, just how did you come to know the artist?” she asked while moving to sit at one of the outdoor patio tables to rest her soda.”

“I knew his parents. There was once a time when I helped to manage a school for the arts in Boston where I grew up. He took on the name “Crescent Moon” because everyone who seemed to see his artwork said it was out of this world. I thought it best to sponsor him since his parents were unable to support his talent.

Daniella couldn’t believe it. A rich man with a heart.

“How wonderful of you.”

 “Oh, it''s nothing more than I would expect someone to do out there for me, back when I was unable to support myself. But life and God have been good to me, and I call Fox Brook my home now. There’s just so much potential here, actually been nominated as a model for the country.

“So you relocated because of what you could do for others?” Daniella was fascinated. She totally lost track of the time.

“Oh my goodness, I can’t believe it’s so late!”

Simon noted the look of concern on her face. He couldn’t help but offer his apologies.

“I’m so sorry Danielle, please, let my driver take you home. Even here in Fox Brook, it’s not safe for a young woman like yourself to be driving home alone at this hour.”

“Oh no, I assure you Simon, I’ll be fine just let me. . .”

Simon politely took her by the arm. “I know you will be fine.. . . Oh Johnston!”

A plain clothes security man wearing an earphone came immediately.

“I want you to make sure Ms. Donovan gets home safely. Walk her to the lot, and follow her home.”

“Yes sir!” This man who answered to the name of Johnston wasn’t much of a people person by appearance. But if he was good enough to work for the Lennox, and answer so quickly to a man of Simon Rose’s stature, he was good enough to follow her home.

Daniella thanked her gracious host for a intriguing evening. Johnston was waiting.

What worried her most was what Stan would say or do while he was waiting for his wife to walk though their front door. (End Part II of V) 
This story continues as "Exhibitions--The Showdown"
 
  © 2005 cynth''ya lewis reed
all rights reserved.