chapter43

Suzanne stood in the center of the banquet hall, her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and alarm. Vera’s sudden announcement had stripped away her anonymity, and the weight of the guests' gazes felt heavy.

Vera, however, was undeterred. She had no intention of letting Sally’s pretense go unchallenged. Pointing directly at the gifted scroll, she said loudly, "It is one thing to appreciate a tribute, but we must be careful not to mistake an imitation for an original. For the sake of the family’s reputation, let’s keep the truth of this painting between us."

The hall fell into a stunned silence. Sally’s face transformed from a pale mask of shock to a crimson shade of fury. "What could you possibly know about the intricacies of ink wash painting?" she snapped at Suzanne. "Have you ever even studied the works of Inkwell? By what authority do you dare label my gift a fake?"

Suzanne felt trapped. She hadn't sought this confrontation, yet she was now the focal point of a public dispute. If she couldn't justify her claim, the humiliation would be absolute.

Vera’s strategy was subtle. By casting doubt in a room full of high-society guests, the seed was planted. Even if Sally produced a certificate of authenticity, the onlookers would simply assume she had been an easy mark for a sophisticated scam.

An elderly guest, a renowned collector of classical art, adjusted his reading glasses and leaned over the table to inspect the work. Meanwhile, Sally retreated to Nathan’s side, clutching his arm with a practiced air of grievance. "Nate, you have to say something! Suzanne is trying to humiliate me. She’s making baseless accusations!"

Nathan, appearing increasingly irritated by the drama, gently but firmly disengaged his arm. "I am no art critic, Sally. If this is your gift to Grandma, I’m sure she values the sentiment regardless of the painting's pedigree."

The response left Sally fuming. The effortless support she once received from Nathan was rapidly evaporating. Seeing an opportunity, Wendy and Cheryl stepped in to defend her, accusing Suzanne of using her favored status with the grandmother to spread "nonsensical rumors" about subjects she couldn't possibly understand.

Suddenly, the guest studying the painting slammed his hand onto the table, the sound echoing through the hall.

"This is an imitation!" he declared, his voice filled with the indignation of a true connoisseur. "A clever one, but an imitation nonetheless."

Sally froze. The room erupted into hushed whispers.

"The soul of Inkwell’s 'An Ode to Fall' lies in its atmospheric accuracy," the expert explained, pointing to the fine lines of the ferryman’s garments. "The southern wind is the central theme of the piece. Yet, here, the ferryman’s coat billows toward the south—against the wind. Inkwell was a master of naturalism; he would never have committed such a fundamental error in physics."

The tables turned instantly. Those who had defended Sally looked away in embarrassment, while the rest of the room began to murmur about the irony of the situation. Vera beamed, her pride in Suzanne’s "keen eye" reaching new heights.

"My granddaughter-in-law has a natural talent for appraisal!" Vera boasted to the other guests. "Not only that, she is an artist herself. Watercolor, oils—she’s mastered them all. Her work is truly exceptional."

Suzanne gripped Vera’s hand, her voice a frantic whisper. "Grandma, please... I’m just an amateur. I only noticed the coat because I’ve looked at the original in your library so many times. I can’t paint like that."

Sally, sensing Suzanne’s genuine panic, saw a chance for retribution. If she had been humiliated by the truth, she would humiliate Suzanne with a lie. "Suzanne, since Grandma holds your talent in such high regard, why not give us a demonstration? A live ink wash painting would be a wonderful gift for the occasion."

The crowd, eager for more entertainment, took up the call. Vera, blinded by her own enthusiasm, ignored Suzanne’s silent pleas for help.

Desperate, Suzanne turned to Nathan. He leaned down, his head close to hers as they whispered in a moment of unintended intimacy that made them look like a devoted couple to everyone watching.

"Do you really not know how to do this?" Nathan asked, his voice softening at her pitiful expression.

"I only doodle to pass the time with Grandma," she whispered back, her eyes wide. "I can't show these people that. I’d look like a child trying to play at being an artist."

Nathan straightened, intending to end the spectacle. "We don't need the supplies," he told the butler. "Let’s move on to the next part of the evening."

"Nonsense!" Vera interrupted, pushing Nathan aside with surprising energy. She took Suzanne’s hand and led her toward the center of the room. "Set the table. I want everyone to see exactly why I am so proud of this young woman."