The Trade

Siblings Jacob and Theresa were no strangers to the harsh reality of life. Their parents gone, they now lived with their grandmother, who did her best to raise the two.

Theresa, a nineteen year old artist, was the main source of income for the family with her job at the grocery store and doing small time art commissions. Jacob’s main concern at the age of eight was finishing his half-page book report that was due on Monday.

The house itself was decently sized, three bedroom and one bathroom. The kitchen, dining room and living room were all connected in an open floor plan, allowing the three to speak between rooms.

“That’s so gross!” Jacob laughed as his grandmother popped out her dentures and smiled a gummy smile.

Theresa laughed too, shaking her head as she finished washing the dishes.

“Hey do you want to go through that box today?” She called over her shoulder from the kitchen to the dining room.

“What?” Marcy called, turning up her hearing aid to be able to hear her soft voiced granddaughter.

“Do you want to go through that old box of pictures today?” She repeated.

Her grandmother had found a wooden box full of pictures and had been wanting to show them to Theresa and Jacob. Jacob wasn’t at all interested but Theresa wanted to see them.

“Oh, yes let’s do that. I’ll go open it.” She said, slowly standing and walking into the living room. She had placed the box on the coffee table when she found it and hadn’t had any reason to move it yet, so there it had remained.

Theresa shut off the water and dried her hands before rolling down the sleeves of her plaid, flannel shirt and going to sit next to her grandmother on the couch. Jacob had already retreated to his bedroom and the sounds of him playing Rayman could be heard in the background before he plugged in his headset and the house was quiet again.

Marcy was rather thrilled to be able to go through so many memories, she’d been having trouble remembering a few of the old faces and this as sure to help. They spent a good twenty minutes going through the pictures. Some of them as babies or little kids, their parents before they died, people Theresa wasn’t old enough to remember, and even a few she had taken as a little girl were stuffed in there. But one, a faded photograph of Marcy and Lucas, her late husband, caught Theresa’s eye.

“Is this you and Grandpa’s engagement portrait?” She asked, picking up the faded black and white. It showed two people, young and vibrant, smiling at the photographer. His strong arm wrapped around her waist, her hand resting gently in his and her other arm thrown up over his shoulders. Her simple dress had sleeves just past the elbow, strong shoulders, and a lovely floral design above the right breast and on the bottom left of the skirt. He wore a finely tailored suit with a striped tie, his fedora sitting on a small table off to the side.

Marcy looked at the image and smiled. Her husband had died of a heart attack ten years ago. She missed him so much.

“Yes it is.” She said. “You were only nine when he passed. Jacob was only a little baby.”

“Grandma what’s this?” Theresa asked, pointing to a ring on her hand in the picture. “I’ve never seen this before. Was it your engagement ring?”

“It was, I pawned it off years ago though.” She said sadly.

“What? Why?” Theresa asked. “It’s beautiful.”

“It was beautiful, and worth a good deal of money. When your parents died and when you two came to stay with me I needed the money. That ring was the most valuable thing I had.”

Her parent’s death had come as a shock to everyone, it was so sudden. Theresa remembered the crash but Jacob had been too young. He was only about two, she was thirteen. They had survived the head on collision, their parents had not. So their grandmother had taken them in, they’d been living there ever since.

Theresa frowned, her grandma had given up a lot to be able to support them. Theresa worked every shift she could get to try and help. They did alright but there was always too much month at the end of their money.

“Where did you pawn it?” She asked.

“At that little shop down on Mint st.” She said. “Oh… what’s it called again?”

“King’s Pawn. Erin’s dad owns it.” She said.

Erin was Theresa’s best childhood friend, and they were no less close now.

“That’s right!” She said, snapping her fingers. “I swear I’d forget my head if it wasn’t attached.”

Theresa chuckled a bit at that, she probably would.

“Ah look at this one! It’s Jacob in his old baseball outfit.” Marcy said, picking up another picture, putting the other off to the side.

Theresa went through the rest of the pictures with her grandmother but couldn’t help wondering about the ring. Her grandpa had died just four years before her parents, any momento of them was something her grandma held dear. She knew she had to find that ring for her, before she forgot about that too.

When the reminiscing was over Theresa helped her grandmother pack away all the pictures, promising to make a scrapbook out of them for her later. Then she put it off to the side of the couch and went off to her room.

She shut the door behind her and pulled out her phone, dialing Erin’s number. It rang and rang as she flopped down on her bed.

“Come on Erin… pick up your phone.” She mumbled as she waited for her friend to pick up.

“Hello?!” Erin’s voice came through, shouting over music blaring in the background.

Theresa nearly dropped the phone as the noise blasted her ear. Erin turned down the music so she could hear whoever was calling.

“Erin good lord how are you not deaf?” Theresa said.

“Hey Theresa! What’s up?” Erin asked, pulling her lollipop out of her mouth so she could talk.

“Ok so I was going through some old pictures with my grandma and we-”

Erin cut her off. “Hey how is she? Wasn’t she sick last week?”

“Eh, yeah she was but she’s ok now. Anyway, we found this one of her and grandpa and it showed her engagement ring. But I’d never seen it before so I asked her about it and she said she sold it at your dad’s pawn shop. Do you guys keep any records that old?” Theresa asked.

“Are you kidding? My dad keeps records from like a hundred years ago. I’m sure he’ll have it written down somewhere.” She said, nodding even though Theresa couldn’t see her.

“Could you ask him to look it up? It’d be a three stone engagement ring under Marcy Lee.” She said.

“Yeah I’ll ask him right now hang on!” She said, putting her phone down to go talk to her dad. It was saturday but the shop was open every day except sunday so she and her parents were all there. The music had been playing in her father’s office. It was several minutes of silence, so Theresa put it on speaker while she changed into her pajamas in case Erin came back.

“Hey Theresa he found the record!” Erin said, her voice ringing loudly through the room.

Theresa jumped over to her phone to turn it off speaker, if Jacob heard her he’d only pester her until he figured out what was going on.

“Great! What did it say?” She asked.

“Alright hold on I’m trying to read it but you know how bad his handwriting is.” Erin said. “Oh ok so she sold it for $1,500 and then my dad sold it for $2,350.”

She sighed, that was a lot more than she’d been hoping for. “Does it say who he sold it to?” She asked.

“Yeah, some guy named Winston Arthurs.” She said, then snorted in laughter. “How’s that for a stuffy rich person name?”

“Is there any contact information for him?” She asked.

“Um, I’m really not supposed to give that stuff out.” She said apologetically.

She cursed under her breath. She would have to involve her brother after all. Even though he was only nine he was a computer genius. If this guy was still around he’d find him.

“That’s ok, I’ll check it out.” She said. “Thanks Erin.”

“Yeah no problem. Later gater!” She chirped before hanging up.

Theresa shook her head, Erin had always been a bit odd. Her energy was an endearing quality, and a good counter for Theresa’s more sophisticated personality.

She groaned and pulled herself into an upright position before taking a deep breath and heading into her brother’s room. She knocked on the door and received no reply. She knocked again with the same response. Or lack thereof. So she just opened the door, finding her brother sitting at his desk, still playing Rayman on his computer with headphones on. She walked up behind him and suddenly pulled the headphones away from his head so he could hear.

“Hey! Earth to Jacob!” She said before letting the headphones plop back onto his ears.

He paused his game and turned to his sister as he pulled the headphones off.

“What? What? I’m about to kill a boss here.” He said impatiently.

“Ok well I’m sure he’ll wait for you, I need your help.” She said.

He raised an eyebrow. “With what?” he asked, curious now.

“I need you to look somebody up for me. Think you can manage?” She asked.

Ah now this was something he didn’t mind helping with. If it involved computers he was all for it.

“Alright,” He said, minimizing his game and pulling up his favored search engine. “Who am I looking up and why?”

“His name is Winston Arthurs. We’ll worry about why later.” She said

He typed in the name and kept looking until he found the right guy, there was only one living in their area.

“Um, this guy is like eighty. Why are you looking for him?” Jacob asked.

“Like I said, I’ll tell you why later. Can you find his phone number?” She prodded. “And maybe his address?”

“Ah… yeah just give me a minute.” He said, his fingers flying over the keyboard again.

A new page came up and Jacob whistled lowly. “Geez, this guy is loaded. He’s a collector of antique jewelry and up-and-coming art.” He said, reading off the page.

“Great, maybe he’ll work with me. What’s his phone number and address?” She asking, having to remind him once again what they were actually looking for.

Jacob wrote down the number and address off the page onto a sticky note and handed it to his sister. “Ok there you have your information, stalker lady. Now why do you even want to talk to this guy?”

“I want to view his collection.” She said, and that was partially true. Being an artist herself, she was quite interested in seeing this “up-and-coming” art collection.

“Thanks twerp.” She said. “I’ll buy you cheetos and monster next time I’m at the store.”

“Awesome!” He cheered, turning back to his computer, putting his headphones on, and returning to his game.

Theresa went back to her room and plopped back down on her bed, pulling out her phone. She paused before dialing Mr. Arthurs’ number. What was she even supposed to say to him? “Hi I’m a random girl you don’t know and I really want to see your collection of old jewelry and new art.” was probably not the best opening line. She sighed and dialed the number, hoping she’d be able to just wing it.

The phone rang three times before someone answered in a rather dour tone. “Arthurs’ residence.”

“Um, hello. This is Theresa Lee. I was wondering if I could speak to Mr. Arthurs?” She said.

“What is your business with Master Arthurs?” The droning voice asked.

“Well I’d like to view his collection. There’s a particular piece I’m looking for.” She said

The voice sighed. “Master Arthurs does not give tours to curious strangers. Unless you have a piece you’re looking to sell or if you know of something in particular you wish to purchase, I’m afraid Master Arthurs will not see you.”

“Well, I do have something I want to purchase, depending on the price.” She said. “And I might have some art to sell him, but I’d have to see his collection first before I’ll know if he’s interested.”

The voice sighed. “Very well. Please give me your contact information and I will pass it along to Master Arthurs.” He said.

She gave him her cellphone number and the house phone just in case her cell died. He thanked her contemptuously and hung up. She dropped her phone on the bed beside her and ran her hands through her hair. She’d have to actually make something worth selling now. She had the skill, and the time hopefully. But inspiration was a different story. What should she paint? She racked her brain for nearly an hour before it hit her. She knew exactly what to paint! She just had to dig back through that box of pictures to find it.

Six weeks later Theresa’s phone finally rang, Winston Arthurs had gotten around to calling her back at last! She hurried to answer when she saw who it was.

“Theresa Lee.” She said, trying to keep her voice calm.

“Yes, Ms. Lee, I am Winston Arthurs. I understand that you had business to discuss with me? Something about wanting to view my collection?”

“Yes sir. You see I’m an artist and I have a painting I think you may be interested it. But I’m also looking to talk about one of your other pieces, one in your jewelry collection.” She said. It was hard to sound so professional when she was this nervous.

“Hmm I see.” He said, pondering the idea for a moment. “Well young lady I’m intrigued. I feel there may be more to this than you’re letting on. I’d like to meet with you as soon as possible.” He said.

“That would be fantastic sir, when would be convenient for you?” She asked.

“I am available this very saturday. Why don’t you come to my home and we’ll discuss this situation over lunch at eleven-thirty.” he said. It was phrased as a suggestion but it was more of a statement. “Is that agreeable to you?”

“Yes sir that sounds perfect. I’ll be there. Should I bring the painting?” She asked.

“Yes, please do.” He said. “So I shall see you then. Have a pleasant day Ms. Lee.”

“And you Mr. Arthurs.” She said, then let him hang up first.

When she put the phone down she had to resist squealing. Lunch with Winston Arthurs! She’d learned more about him in the past few weeks and this was a young artist’s dream come true! She had to call Erin and tell her of course, and then after Erin was done screaming she needed to look through her closet for something nice to wear. Saturday was only two days away after all.

The day finally came and Theresa drove to the Arthurs estate, arriving at eleven-twentyfive. She marveled at the grand old home, a colonial mansion with perfectly kept grounds. She got out of the car and pulled her painting out of the back seat, it was rolled into a tube for safe keeping. Her dress was an off-white sundress with a thin leather belt and her brown flats matched perfectly. She had her curly brown hair pulled up into a high ponytail.

She stepped up to the massive door and knocked nervously. Was she supposed to knock? Or was there a doorbell she should have rung? Her question was answered when the butler opened the door. He was a middle aged man with a receding hairline and a snooty expression.

“Ms. Lee.” He greeted. It was the same man she’d spoken to on the phone weeks ago. “Master Arthurs is waiting for you in the sun room. Please, follow me.”

She silently followed the butler through a grand foyer and into a magnificent main hall. The floors were black and white marble and pieces of wonderful art hung from nearly every inch of the walls. Some old, ancient even, others new and modern. She hoped he would like what she had to offer. Her heart was racing, she was so nervous. She discreetly wiped her palms on the skirt of her dress just before they entered the sun room.

The butler opened the large glass door and she stepped in. “Master Arthurs, your guest has arrived.” He announced.

Winston Arthurs stood and smiled upon seeing her. He was an old man, possibly in his late seventies. He had very well groomed, but very thin gray hair. His face was detailed with age, deep wrinkles covering most of his skin. He offered her his hand and she took it, giving it a firm shake.

“Ah, a lady with a strong hand. I like that. Not too delicate.” He said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Ms. Lee.”

“Pleasure to meet you too Mr. Arthurs. Thank you for inviting me today.” She said.

“Of course, I love meeting young artists. Especially one with the gumption to seek me out.” He said with a grin. He had a bit of a glint in his eye, mischief. “Please, sit down.”

She took her seat as he did the same. The sunroom was enormous, pots, planters and baskets of flowers filled the room, a circular fountain in the center with three benches placed around it. It would be a wonderful place to read, paint or just relax. Their little table was set close to the wall with a white cloth draped over it. It would only seat two people comfortably with a lunch placed between them.

“Now, before we get on with our business I’d like to know a bit about you first.” He said.

“Of course, what would you like to know?” She asked as the butler poured the both of them a cup of green tea.

“Thank you Harold.” Winston said, dismissing the younger man. He bowed slightly from the hip and turned on his heel, silently making his way out of the room. Then Winston returned his attention to Theresa. “How old are you?” He asked.

“I’m nineteen, twenty next month.” She said. “You couldn’t be any older than forty right?”

He laughed. “Not often a man gets that kind of line. But if that’s the story I’ll stick to it!”

Her nerves had slipped away without her even noticing. Mr. Arthurs had such an engaging personality.

“What is your interest in my jewelry collection?” He asked. Apparently it was time to get down to business now.

She took a deep breath and a sip of her tea before talking. “My grandmother takes care of me and my brother, well, more I take care of them. But we live with her, just the three of us. Our parents died in a car accident years ago and she took us in. When she did she didn’t have very much money so she sold her engagement ring. My grandfather died a few years before my parents and grandma doesn’t have a lot left of him. Last month she found a box of old pictures and when she and I went through them I saw their engagement picture. In it you could see the ring, but I’ve never seen it in person. So I tracked you down, the one who bought that ring. I want to buy it back. Return it to her.”

He leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers together and resting them on his stomach. “I see, I see. I have to say, that wasn’t what I expected. And your artwork, you want to sell it?”

“Yes, I’m hoping to take the price of the painting off the price of the ring. If you’re willing to sell and buy at all.” She said, fiddling with her fingers in her lap.

He nodded, pondering this idea. “Well, I’d have to know just what ring it is you’re here to buy. Some are far more expensive than others.” He said. “Why don’t we put it aside until after lunch? Then we’ll go and see which one it is you’re talking about.”

They sat and ate their lunch of soup and rolls, chatting with surprising ease. Winston shared several of her interests, art obviously, but also 40s music, theater, movies, and gardening. She wondered if he was this way with all potential buyers and sellers.

When Harold cleared lunch away Winston stood, “Well young lady, why don’t we go and find that ring and see what’s to be done?”

She stood as well, giving a nod. He led her off to a showroom for his old jewelry. The security was tight, Winston was only allowed inside after letting a panel in the wall scan his hand. It was dimly lit with lights in the display cases to show off the jewels.

“Look around my dear, find that ring.” He said.

She perused the many cases for a good fifteen minutes before finally spotting the ring. It wasn’t nearly the best piece in his collection, nor anywhere near the most expensive. In fact it was probably the cheapest item there.

“Here it is Mr. Arthurs. This is the one.” She said, indicating the case.

He walked over, having been inspecting some of his own pieces. “That one eh? I thought that might be the one you were talking about.” He said.

“Yes sir, this is… was her ring.” She said. It really was beautiful, simple yes, but beautiful.

“Alright, now I need to know what else is on the table. What have you brought for me?” He asked.

She set the art tube on the floor and pulled the top off, then removed the curled up painting from within. She unrolled it and presented the work to Mr. Arthurs.

He looked over it in silence, taking it from her hands and adjusting his glasses over his nose. It made Theresa nervous all over again. He wasn’t smiling, he wasn’t speaking, he was just looking, scrutinizing her work.

After a few long moments he looked up at her, peering over the top brim of his spectacles.

“Theresa… you’re very good.” He said in a serious tone, but a smile was growing on his aged face. “To be honest with you, I like this better than that ring.”

Her face lit up. “Thank you sir! I wasn’t sure you’d like it at all. I saw some of your other art hanging in the foyer and the hall and they were all so contemporary. I was worried.”

“Well you had no reason to be, this is an exceptional work of art. Did you use reference for this?” He asked. In many ways, using a reference was harder than creating the image yourself.

“Yes I did.” She said, her smile reaching ear-to-ear. Then she forced her excitement down a bit. They still had business to discuss. “Now, the question is, how much are you willing to pay for it?”

He laughed softly, “I like you Theresa, you’re a sharp one. What is the title of this piece?”

“Memory of Love.” She said.

“Memory of Love…” He repeated, his eyes looking over the piece again. “I’ll tell you what. I’m going to make you a very special offer. And I’m only going to offer it once. I’ll trade you this painting for that ring, no extra monetary charge. But to make up the difference I’d like you to come work for me, I’d like to be your patron.” He said.

Theresa could hardly believe her ears and for a moment her mouth hung open in shock. She quickly closed it, remembering how Mary Poppins had called Jane and Michael cod fish for leaving their mouths hanging open.

This wasn’t something to pass up, not in a million years. Winston Arthurs as a patron? It was a pretty old practice but what better opportunity could any artist ask for? AND she would get her grandmother’s ring!

“Yes sir, absolutely. I accept.” She said, her smile threatening to split her face in half.

Winston smiled too, but more softly. The exuberance of youth had long since escaped him, but seeing it in someone else brought him more joy than he’d really like to admit.

“Well then Ms. Lee it’s settled. This painting for that ring and your services.” He said.

He took a key from his pocket and unlocked the display case, opening a small glass door in the back of it and pulling the ring from its setting. He gently took Theresa’s hand and placed the ring in it.

“Go on and bring that to your grandmother. I’ll find a place of honor to display this.” He said.

She nodded, “Thank you so much Mr. Arthurs. Thank you!” She said, then hurried out back to her car. In her rush she almost took a wrong turn but managed to find the exit. She got home as quickly as possible without breaking the law and then ran to the door. She stopped before entering, taking a moment to calm herself. She took a few deep breaths. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Then she calmly walked inside.

“Grandma?” She called. “Where are you? I have a surprise for you.”

“I’m in the living room!” She called back. She was sitting in her old rocking chair reading one of her cheesy romance paperbacks.

Theresa came over to her, holding the ring behind her back. “Now, I’ve been working on getting this for a while. And don’t worry, it didn’t cost me a penny I promise.” She said.

“What are you going on about honey? What is this surprise?” She asked, setting her book aside.

She held the ring out to her grandmother on an open palm.

“This.” She said. “I tracked down the buyer and got it back.”

Marcy’s eyes widened and she sucked in a gasp as a shaky hand reached up to grab the ring. She held it for the first time in years, tears springing to her old green eyes.

“Oh, dear this is… this is my ring… this is…” She tried to speak but was choked up. Her granddaughter had gone through who knows how much trouble to get this back for her.

“I saw it in that picture of you and grandpa and when you said you sold it for Jacob and me I knew I had to get it back for you.” She said, gently hugging her grandmother.

Marcy hugged her back, holding the young girl for a long time as she tried to get her emotions under control. When she released Theresa she was no longer crying, but still sniffling a bit.

“My dear, you have no idea how much this means to me.” She said. She slipped the ring back on her finger, amazed to see that it still fit just as well as the day her dear Lucas proposed. She still missed him so much, and giving up his ring had hurt like a gunshot, but now she had this little piece of him back.

Winston found a place for Theresa’s painting, a place of honor indeed. It was in his art display room, where he put only his most prized pieces. It sat, framed, on an easel with a rich red cloth draped over the structure. The painting was placed over this cloth with a light shining directly above it, a spotlight. The painting, in shades of black, white, and gray. It showed two people, young and vibrant, smiling at the viewer. His strong arm wrapped around her waist, her hand resting gently in his and her other arm thrown up over his shoulders. Her simple dress had sleeves just past the elbow, strong shoulders, and a lovely floral design above the right breast and on the bottom left of the skirt. He wore a finely tailored suit with a striped tie, his fedora sitting on a small table off to the side.