After another long, empty silence, she said, "so I'm stuck."
"I'm afraid so," Veronica replied. "You have to get that degree, it's already paid for."
"It was the best choice I could make at the time, dear girl," auntie Neza said, reaching again for Shelby's hand. This time, Shelby didn't pull away. "You're so talented and I wanted so much for you to be happy."
"We'll muddle through," Veronica added. "We always do. The show's coming up, I get half the door receipts, and if we make it a really good one, maybe we'll sell some paintings. I'll earn my commission and we'll manage another couple of months."
Shelby turned to her great-aunt with cold, angry eyes. "You want me to get my Mrs. degree. If marrying is so important, then why didn't you? And look what happened to Veronica! We all thought Dean was wonderful and look how that turned out."
Neza frowned awfully at her younger niece, then sat back in her chair with resignation. All her years showed on her face and the slump of her shoulders. "I made mistakes, Shelby. I said no when perhaps I shouldn't have. It worked out, I suppose. I thought so for years. Then Veronica and Dean moved in and the house was full of family for the first time in years. Then your dad, well, you know." Her voice trailed off.
"Yeah," Veronica said sourly. "Dad."
All three women looked out into the past, a past that had led to a very different future than any of them would have expected.
Neza continued, "Shelby, your father did awful things but for me, it turned out to be the best thing in years when you and your mother moved in. I know Dean left, but I had you, Veronica, and your mom. It was a real joy to get to spend so much time with your mother before she passed. And every day that you've been here has been a joy for me."
She squeezed Shelby's hand. "Shelby, I had no idea how much I missed by not marrying and having a family until you moved in. I can't go back and change the past but I could give you a chance to meet someone, someone you could start a family with."
Shelby looked all around the kitchen, thinking of all the times she had walked home from PanU with Lulu and Florence. She had never once wanted to meet any of the young men they knew from their own classes at PCC. She had always refused their offers and she had never told anyone why. She didn't get dates at PanU either. She was always afraid of someone finding out about what dear old dad had done. Would someone from PCC have cared?
She thought of Kip McGrant who shared many of her classes. He always wanted to talk to her, even flirt a bit, but only when nobody else was around to see him do it. The other students at PanU weren't much better. She tried hard to be friendly and polite, joining in whenever she could, but her efforts didn't change facts. Nothing mattered more in Panschin than money, family background, and social status and the higher up the social ladder you were, the more they mattered. And here Neza actually believed that she'd meet some nice young man from a good family and marry him. As soon as any nice young man found out about her background, he'd be out the door so fast it wouldn't have slammed shut by the time he was running down the street. And if he didn't object, his family would.
She could have gotten a date or two, but the young men who had asked, well. They wanted her because they wouldn't have to pay for her company but otherwise, she'd be treated just the same as any prostitute. Used, discarded, and then forgotten; certainly never taken home and introduced to the family. She thought of Kip again. He'd never once even asked her out for tea and a bun at the roach coach between classes, something everyone else did routinely with their friends.
She thought of Dean and how happy Veronica and both families had been when they married. Then dear old dad's criminal activities were discovered, the Kangjuon family insisted on the divorce, and Dean didn't fight them very hard at all. It had been like Veronica turned into a cave troll right in front of his eyes. What a spineless leech. He still came around to chat up Veronica even though he refused to stand up to his own family on her behalf.
Her sister remained coolly civil to her former husband and wouldn't speak badly of him or his family when outside of the safe walls of the White Elephant. Her opinion was it was all water down the shaft and there was no point in dwelling on the past. Even so, Shelby didn't think Veronica would ever forgive Dean's betrayal. It was easier to be angry at Dean than their father.
After another long, empty silence, Shelby said "A nice boy from a good family like the Kangjuons. Remember them?" She stared daggers at her sister.
Veronica winced. Her former mother-in-law had been the instigating force behind the divorce, and Dean hadn't fought his mother on the subject. Mrs. Kangjuon had been friendly enough when she thought the Bradwell family was a valued connection. Afterwards, well, it turned out Mrs. Kangjuon believed in a scorched soil policy when dealing with unwanted former relatives. Her behavior was the reason Veronica was relieved she and Dean had never managed to have a baby during their marriage. A child would have tied her to the Kangjuons forever. She started when Shelby began talking again.
"I can accept the idea that PanU would give me more scope for my so-called talent than PCC would. But how can either of you say that I would meet someone nicer at PanU than I would at PCC?"
"It is a better, more exclusive, expensive school," Neza began.
Shelby twisted around in her seat and glared at her great-aunt. "Better! Look at Dean. He came from a good family and they couldn't dump Veronica fast enough when everything that dad did came out. You really think that after that, how dad cheated all those people, anyone from a 'good family'," Shelby made quotes in the air with her fingers, "would have anything to do with me? I never talk about the past at PanU. I'm afraid of what people would say. They'd cut me and you know it."
She thought of Kip again, always cheerful and ready to talk but nearly always when they were alone.
Veronica said wearily, "department store adverts, Shelby. Think of a lifetime spent drawing ladies' shoes. Or pickaxes."
Shelby whipped around to glare at Veronica. "At least a job drawing adverts would bring in money. And what, you think I couldn't do better? Eventually? I could keep working on my own art in my free time and I wouldn't have to worry about digging manky paintbrushes out of recycling bins and salvaging them! I'd have money to pay for real supplies."
"Maybe you could have," Veronica said even more tiredly. "But it's done now."
"What you're really saying is I don't have any talent. I have to depend on some man to take care of me."
Veronica leaped to her feet again, re-energized. "That is not what I'm saying! Don't put words into my mouth."
Shelby stood up so fast she shook the table. "It is. If I had talent, I wouldn't be failing everything I do there."
"Because of him! Stop believing him and start believing in yourself!"
"That's enough!" Neza shouted. "Stop this arguing right now. It gets us nowhere. Be quiet while we think. Not another word."
Veronica sat back down as did Shelby, more slowly. Both girls fumed as they resolutely refused to look at each other or at their great-aunt. Instead, all three women stared at the kitten illustration on the calendar. Its huge, unblinking green eyes stared back at them.
"Maybe I should go over to the bursar's office again," Neza said, breaking the angry silence. She had a thoughtful, far-away look on her face as though something new, something she had never before considered had suddenly appeared in the distance in front of her.
"What good would that do? You already paid. You said yourself that money is lost," Shelby said hotly. "I'm stuck with a school that thinks I'm an incompetent mushroom." She did not add 'and people who think I'm a waste of space' although she thought it.
"You are not incompetent," Veronica said firmly. "Do not listen to that idiot professor. He's still pissed off about Clyde Monez and the ore-cars of money he made drawing kitten pictures along with the fact that idiot couldn't draw his own way out of a wet paper bag."
"Clyde Monez has talent and I don't!"
"Clyde Monez probably wasn't any more talented at your age than you are, even if he was plenty sneakier. But he knew something we didn't," Veronica said. "He knew Vitebskin hates cats. If we'd known that little fact, I'd have made sure your portfolio was exactly what Vitebskin liked and you'd have gotten that scholarship."
"Maybe I would have won a scholarship but you don't know that I would have," Shelby retorted. "Maybe Professor Vitebskin would have still thought my drawings were crappy even without Madame Fluff's portraits."
Neza thumped her cane again, trying to seize the floor and get the debate back where she wanted it. "PanU and PCC have some ties. You know they do. They share facilities and some of the professors moonlight. I might be able to persuade the bursar at PanU to transfer enough money for Shelby to take classes at PCC in place of PanU's classes."
"Oh Neza," Shelby groaned. "And what good would that do? They won't give a refund on the difference. You said so yourself that money's gone."
"Much as it pains me right now to say this, but Shelby is right," Veronica said. "What good would it do?"
Neza lifted her cane and pointed at the kitten illustration. The red bow gleamed against the kitten's black and white fur. The long ribbon ends artfully draped over the kitten's back and curled gracefully around its paws.
"See that painting on the calendar? Shelby, you draw almost as well as that illustration is drawn. Clyde Monez didn't learn to draw commercial illustrations at PanU. He did it at PCC. Why can't you draw kittens and puppies and flowers and people for illustrations? Mrs. Grisson said your drawing of her granddaughter was just like she had been turned into a paper-doll and moreover, she said all her boarders agreed."
"Hmm," said Veronica, sitting up suddenly and blinking. Her mind raced down the new trail that Neza had blazed. "Hmmm."
"Almost as well?" said Shelby. "Almost as well? That means I'm not nearly as good as Clyde Monez."
Veronica glared at her sister and then at the kitten illustration. "Shut up, Shelby, and listen. We didn't know what an idiot Vitebskin was until it was much too late. We do know you're talented. If auntie Neza can get PanU to let you take classes at PCC, you could quietly take the commercial art classes that would teach you to do magazine illustrations and calendar art. Nobody would know. You'd be like Clyde Monez. You'd have the fancy degree from PanU and the useful training from PCC. It could work."
"But Neza said herself that I'm not as good as Clyde Monez! I'm not as good as that artist is," Shelby pouted. She pointed again towards the kitten hanging on the wall.
Veronica snarled wordlessly at the ceiling in her frustration. Did her little sister want to give up?
Neza rolled her eyes in exasperation. She did love Shelby dearly but sometimes, it seemed Shelby liked drama for its own sake, a tendency that made her ears not work as well as they should.
"Yes, Shelby," Neza said firmly, "you're not as skilled as that artist is, right now. But you will be with time and practice. We just have to get there."
"Neza's right, Shelby," Veronica said. "We keep trying. If you give up, then Vitebskin wins. Do you really believe what that idiot has to say about you and your art? You're much better than he's willing to admit to and I hope, I hope!, deep down you know it. Look at that picture. How would you make it better?"
Shelby glowered at the kitten illustration. She'd never liked how the artist had drawn the kitten's eyes. They seemed so flat and lifeless to her. And the ribbons didn't float like they should. On the other hand, technically speaking, the artist was flawless at painting kitten fur. However, beautifully painted fur didn't make kittens look lifelike. Their eyes and expressions made an observer coo over their cuteness, not the swirls patterned into their fur. But could she draw as beautifully, as realistically, as enticingly as this artist had, despite the obvious flaws? Was she the only person who saw those flaws?
The gate hinges shrieked, startling all three women, making them jump. Loud voices came pouring in through the open window and many, many footsteps were heard crunching down the gravel path leading to the front door.
'Saved,' Shelby thought. "They're here." She leaped to her feet. "We've got to get the White Elephant swept down and set up."
"So they are," her sister added. "And right on time too."
Veronica was relieved as well. Sweeping down the walls of the White Elephant would be a dirty, tiresome job but it would give her time to think over what Neza was proposing. Better, it would give Shelby time to think about it too. Could Neza do it? Veronica thought about her few remaining friends at PanU. One of them might know something and could suggest who to talk to. Lulu and Florence? Hmm. Probably not. The PCC school of nursing didn't have anything to do with the commercial arts wing.
Someone pounded on the front door.
Shelby headed out towards the kitchen door. She called back "don't anybody talk about this in front of them. I've got a hard-enough time at PanU as it is."
"No worries on that score," Veronica said. "You take the ballroom with Neza and I'll handle the outside crew. I can't be having any of those idiots trampling my vegetable beds."
As soon as Shelby was out of earshot, Veronica said to their aunt, "we have to do this, get Shelby into PCC. I did not like what she implied about how she's treated at PanU."
Neza grimaced. "No. I'll have to ask her what's really going on as opposed to what little she's said. She might be willing to tell me the truth now."
Veronica laughed ruefully. "As opposed to her big, overbearing sister, I suppose. I'll scrub terraformers off walls myself in Dome Six if we can get Shelby into PCC. She has a chance."
"And what about you, my dear Veronica?" Neza asked. "What about your chances?"
Veronica hugged her great-aunt tightly. "One crisis at a time, Neza. First the show, then Shelby, and then me."
Neza met Veronica's light brown eyes, the same eyes as her mother and her own. "You're a Bradwell and a Molony too, dear girl. You shouldn't be scrubbing walls or floors any more than Shelby should."
Veronica smiled ruefully at her great-aunt. "Maybe so, but our creditors don't care."
******
It took the rest of the afternoon to get the White Elephant's exterior walls swept down. It was the same old story. Every time she hosted a show for the PanU Artists' Collective, Veronica thought wearily, she had to insist on a careful, thorough job, sweeping the new growth of terraformers off every flat surface and not just the walls that faced the street within easy reach. Some of the crew that showed up had been here for previous shows so they should have known this was part of the rent the Collective paid for her turning her home into an art gallery. They got an immense, airy space to spread out in and she got clean, white walls to amplify what little sunshine the dome allowed through.
"No!" Veronica shouted. "Do not step into the beds. That's food growing there, not algae."
"Sorry."
"Aack! Don't break the windows with the push-brooms! Gently!" She waved her arms madly at the offenders trying to get their attention.
"Oopsies."
"Why are you guys standing around? Do you think these walls will sweep themselves clean of terraformers?"
"Just taking a break, Veronica."
"You just got here. You don't need a break yet."
"Hey, day laborers should be doing this kind of work. I've got delicate hands made for fine art."
Veronica put her own, decidedly undelicate hands on her hips as she glared over at the complaining student. He sneered at her insolently, making her even madder. She didn't know which was more irritating, his nerve or his laziness. Was this jerk one of the ones making Shelby miserable?
She marched towards him, suddenly furious.
"If you expect to show your painting at the show tomorrow, you will work. Otherwise, the deal's off for the whole pack of you. I will cancel the exhibit and you can tell Professor Vitebskin he can find another, empty ballroom on short notice." Veronica stepped up to the suddenly unsure student and grabbed the front of his department-store coverall with both hands, surprising him with her strength, as she forced him to meet her eyes.
"Do you understand me?" she snarled right into his face.
He stared at her in shock. Veronica let go and he straightened himself up sulkily.
"I was just making a joke," he mumbled as he turned away.
"I don't have a sense of humor. Get back to work. Hey look! There's Professor Vitebskin now." Veronica pointed outside the White Elephant's tiny walled garden towards the Professor striding down the street like he owned it. "I'm sure he'll be happy to discuss moving the show to a new ballroom."
The offending student blanched and gasped, while the other members of the Collective glared at him and muttered balefully among themselves. The ones who didn't have brooms or other cleaning tools in their hands picked them up. There was -- as Veronica knew full well -- no usable, empty ballroom to be had on short notice, not when the Biennial Mining Conference was in full swing, and certainly not as cheaply as the White Elephant or as conveniently located to PanU.
'Artists!' Veronica thought with contempt. 'Spineless, lazy, and entitled.'
"Miss Bradwell," Professor Vitebskin said as he strode up the gravel path. She noticed he didn't bother closing the gate. He gave Veronica the lingering once over. Then he winked at her. "Everyone working hard, I trust?"
"Almost everyone, Professor," Veronica replied smoothly. She cast a threatening glance over the suddenly hardworking crew of students. They all carefully avoided meeting her gaze, focusing intently on the task in front of them, some of them for the first time since their arrival.
"You know there's always someone who wants the rest of the Collective to do their work for them while they sit back and reap the glory," she added.
Professor Vitebskin, tall, debonair, smartly turned out in a well-fitted coverall that had been artistically shredded down the legs and sleeves and painstakingly decorated with aesthetic spatters of color-coordinated paint, spun on his heel to get a better look at his students. He watched them industriously sweeping down the walls, paying close attention to the trim around the windows. He also observed the numerous missed patches of algae, the multicolored splotches standing out against the white walls of the building.
"So I see. Was there shirking, Miss Bradwell?"
"Not anymore, Professor Vitebskin. You inspire your students with your presence," Veronica said and she smiled winningly at him. It was even true. The student crew was working as diligently as she'd ever seen. Even as they watched, the offending patches of algae and moss were swept clean, leaving the White Elephant to gleam again.
He preened complacently. "So I do. How's the ballroom coming along?"
"I don't know," Veronica said. "I've been busy out here. However, Shelby and auntie Neza are supervising inside so I have hopes that it will be sparkling."
Professor Vitebskin allowed himself another long, enjoyable glance over Veronica's lush figure only partly hidden by a baggy old coverall and arched his eyebrow at her. "As sparkling as the building is outside?"
"Maybe," she replied. "You'll have to see for yourself." 'Get inside, you lecher,' Veronica thought. 'You make me feel slimy.'
The thought rose unbidden of the thug who had visited a few days ago, asking after the lease on the White Elephant. He hadn't been back and no one had seen or heard anything. She pushed the thought firmly away. No use borrowing trouble when she had plenty on her hands to deal with standing around her.
"Everything's under control here, Professor. I know auntie Neza will want to consult with you about the placement of the easels."
"Of course she will," the professor replied. "She lacks vision."
He spun back and surveyed his students, some of whom were now perched on ladders trying to reach the sections below the pseudo-roof tiles in their efforts to impress Professor Vitebskin with their keenness. Veronica watched too, hoping no one slipped and fell to their death. She couldn't afford that calamity, despite her need for pristine, reflective walls to better grow her produce and earn some coin.
"Well, that's better," said the professor. "Miss Bradwell?"
"Yes, professor?"
He raised his voice. "I'll return after inspecting the ballroom. I expect perfection and nothing less."
"Of course, Professor Vitebskin," Veronica said. "I'll remind your students, just in case they forget in the next ten minutes."
He let his smile linger on her a few moments longer than necessary and then sauntered down the gravel path around the house. Veronica watched him go, noticing that yes, someone – not him, she was positive – had ironed his coverall after scrubbing it immaculately clean. There wasn't a single stain, smear, shredded area, or rip present other than what would enhance its fashionable appearance. She looked down at her own well-worn, grubby, wrinkled coverall. Every worn spot was one her coverall had earned through hard service as was every stain. She didn't waste energy sewing down decorative patches; all her mismatched patches covered holes and rips and were designed to squeeze out a few more years of use from the garment.
'Artists with money,' Veronica thought, and rolled her eyes again.
She looked up at the group of students currently supposed to be scraping the sweater of terraformers from the cornices and yelled "hey! Quit shirking! The professor's gone but I'm not!"
****
As Professor Vitebskin strolled around the White Elephant, he considered the problem of Veronica Bradwell and more importantly, her sister Shelby. Veronica was attractive enough in her own way but she had a distressing independence of mind. Oh, she was always properly respectful towards him but there was still that slight air that said she didn't really mean it. She was respectful because she had to be and the second she didn't have to respect him anymore, she'd quit and be glad.
Shelby, now, there was a delectable morsel. Tall, willowy, lovely bone structure, glowingly even skin, naïve, and desperate to fit in. No real talent of course but with that face and body, she didn't need any talent to be an acceptable bed partner. She tried so hard in his classes, struggling for his approval, and yet, she didn't let herself take that next step to attract his attention. It was as if she recognized how little artistic ability she had and coming on to him for a better grade would prove it to the world. Terrible family background of course, which made her completely unacceptable as a potential candidate for Mrs. Vitebskin number four.
Professor Vitebskin thought of the soon-to-be-former Mrs. Vitebskin number three and shuddered theatrically. The divorce was going to be very expensive but what could he do? It was time to move on, get that barren witch out of his house and her nasty, sly, sneaking cat along with her. Cinnamon would be pleased as well, although losing the cat meant his precious dog lost his favorite chew toy. On the other hand, unlike the witch, Shelby Bradwell worshipped him for the genius he was. Her adoration and beauty would certainly make for an enjoyable, casual liaison. Co-eds could be so much fun and they so rarely were willing to say anything untoward afterwards. It was too embarrassing for them to admit how silly and immature they were.
The professor stopped at the grand double front door to the White Elephant, struck by a sudden thought. Shelby would be a sweet treat but having the house to use for huge gallery showings was far more valuable. If he pursued her, she might say something to that irritating sister of hers or her great-aunt. The great-aunt might be too genteel to say anything but Veronica would undoubtedly make a fuss, starting with refusing to ever host an art exhibit for the PanU Artists' Collective again. He'd have to make other, far more expensive arrangements. PanU's own display facilities, while convenient, were completely inadequate to fulfil his visions.
No, Shelby Bradwell, despite her delicious and lovely neediness, was out of bounds. At least for now. Professor Vitebskin smiled complacently at his reflection in the freshly polished pink glass window set into the door. If he was patient and scattered a few crumbs of praise, Shelby might approach him all on her own and then nobody could complain about his morals.