Andy, Marilyn and Me

"Just say the event has been canceled due to an emergency -- nothing more. Now hurry! Oh, and no more phone calls, understood?"

The frightened young woman nodded, but before she could pick up her phone, it began to ring. "Sir," she said, "it's the curator again. Do you want to talk to her?"

"What does she want now?" he asked rhetorically, while the secretary sat waiting nervously. "Alright, I'll take it in my office. You call the gate on the other line and make sure no one else gets in," he ordered.

Back at his desk, Nicholson picked up the phone, and the curator began to babble. "It's the caterer, sir, he wants to know what to do with the food you ordered."

"Tell him to take it back," Nicholson exploded. "We sure as hell don't need it."

"I already tried that, sir, but he says he can't. It's already been spread out on the tables. He says it's illegal for him to take it back now."

"Goddammit, then tell him to take it to the homeless shelter."

"Champagne and caviar, sir?"

"Just do it," he snapped, and slammed down the receiver.

Slumping in his chair, Nicholson put his head in his hands, trying to think of a way out of the disaster. "This can't be happening," he kept repeating.

"Would you mind telling me what in God's name is going on?" came a familiar voice. "I had to walk all the way from the front gate to get up here."

Appalled, the harried director looked up into the florid face of his chairman of the board. Adrenaline shot through Grant's system as he desperately tried to think of some way to appease the angry man. "Actually, Mr. Worthington, we've managed to avoid a disaster. When we uncovered problems with the Warhol, I knew you wouldn't want the celebration to go on."

"What do you mean a 'problem with the Warhol'?" the executive demanded, leaning toward Nicholson menacingly.

"Sir, it appears that the print is a fake, a forgery, sir."

"A fake!" Worthington yelled. "How in hell could you have accepted a fake? You people are supposed to be the art experts. Didn't you think to inspect it before turning on the PR machine and boasting to the world about your coup?"

"I know how it looks, sir, but there was the matter of the will, and then we had to work with the security company to get it here. Sir, you should have seen all the security that old man had..."

"Enough!" Worthington thundered. "The way it stands now, Birch Grove will be the laughing stock of the art world for years to come. And I think I speak for the board when I say you're the one responsible for this debacle. Consider yourself fired as of tonight. As soon as you can get through the godawful traffic jam you've created out there, you to need exit these premises and never return."

Before Nicholson could lodge a protest, Van Worthington turned and stamped away, not even looking at the cowering girl at the desk outside.

"Oh, god, I'm ruined," the former executive director moaned. "When this gets out, no museum in the country will hire me." As he sat wallowing in self-pity, his secretary suddenly appeared.

"Sir, there's a call for you," she said shakily.

"I told you," Nicholson snarled, "no more phone calls."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Nicholson, but it's your wife. And she said to tell you if you don't talk to her, then don't bother coming home tonight."

Nicholson was beaten. "Alright, put her through," he acquiesced.

When the connection was made, there was no doubt in his mind just how angry Greta was. "You'd better have a damned good explanation for this, Grant. I've been stuck out here in a traffic jam for god knows how long. People keep walking up and down the line of cars, and when they see me they want to know what's happening. And I, the wife of the executive director, am every bit as ignorant as they are. If you intended to humiliate me, you couldn't have picked a better way to do it." She paused to catch her breath. "So what do you have to say for yourself?"

"It's very simple, dear," Nicholson said calmly. "As we were hanging the Warhol in the exhibition hall, we discovered that, well, that it's a fake."

"A fake?" she cried.

"Of course we couldn't exhibit a forgery, so we had no choice but to cancel the showing. It's unfortunate that we didn't uncover the issue until the last minute." He paused, swallowed, and then decided to accept his fate. "It's also unfortunate that in such situations someone has to be the scapegoat, whether it's their fault or not. Despite all I've done for Birch Grove, Van Worthington just relieved me of my responsibilities, effective immediately."

She gasped. "Worthington fired your ass? Omigod, this really does take the cake." She took a deep breath. "Listen, Grant, over the years I've put up with a lot from you, not the least of which was your sordid affair with that little tart you hired as development director. I've looked the other way too many times, but this is a bridge too far. Do not come home tonight or ever again, except to pick up your personal belongings. My attorney will be filing for divorce the first thing in the morning. Do you understand?"

He sighed the sigh of a beaten man.

"Do you understand?" she repeated.

"Yes, dear."

When he heard the call disconnect, he dropped his head to his desk, completely defeated.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Paloma heard about the disastrous unveiling at Birch Grove and the firing of Grant Nicholson from Christina. When she rushed to tell Daniel, he greeted the news with satisfaction, but not surprise. "I told you I'd get back at him for what he did to my marriage," he said.

She looked at him quizzically. "But how could you know this would happen?"

"I didn't -- well, not exactly. But I set things up so it was likely he'd do himself in." He grinned. "I couldn't know he'd do it in such a public and humiliating way, but I was pretty sure about the outcome, regardless. And after what he and Susan tried to do, I think he got exactly what he deserved."

Now Paloma looked him carefully. "So what exactly did you do, Senor Daniel? I still don't understand."

He smiled. "Come with me to my office at the university. That way, I'll be able to show you."

When they got to his cluttered office, he pulled up a chair for her before seating himself. "Let's talk about Susan first," he said. "As you know, her plan was to keep her affair with Nicholson a secret until my father's Parkinson's disease killed him. Dad was deteriorating fast, so she was pretty sure she wouldn't have to wait too long.

"She couldn't file before Dad passed away because she needed me to inherit his estate. That way she'd get half of everything. His house was valuable, but the real prize, of course, was his Warhol. I don't know what legal maneuver she was planning to pull, but her attorney was sure he could get the Warhol treated as communal property. After the settlement, she'd walk off with half the auction value -- a lot of money.

"But you and your cousin found out about her affair, and when I learned what she and Grant were plotting, I went to talk with Dad. I knew his intent was to leave the Warhol to me. But after I heard Susan's plans, I urged him to leave the work to Birch Grove. Not only would it be safely out of her reach, but we could use the bequest as leverage against her." He smiled. "And it worked: when Grant learned the only way Birch Grove could get the Warhol would be to cut all ties with my wife, he dropped Susan like a hot potato."

Daniel grew pensive. "I don't know whether Grant was truly in love with Susan, but I'm pretty sure she was just using him as another step up the social ladder. Whatever the case, she quickly learned how deep his commitment to her was. Once my father's will was read, she lost her job her lover, and, of course, her marriage to me. Everything worked out just the way I hoped.

"By the way, the other day a friend told me Susan has moved to Allentown. He heard the only job she could find was working in a telemarketing center selling insurance. Instead of moving up the ladder, my ex-wife has fallen down considerably. That's probably the most painful punishment I could have wished for her."

"I can see how you got back at Susan," Paloma nodded, "and in my opinion she got exactly what she deserved. Cheating on your husband is bad enough, but plotting to take advantage of you and your father -- that is 'horrible,'" she said, using the Spanish pronunciation. "But what about Nicholson? What did you do to him?"

He grinned. "You know about what happened at Birch Grove last night, right?"

"Well, some of it. Mainly I was just shocked to learn your father's artwork wasn't real." A sad look came to her eyes. "In a way I'm glad Senor Morgan didn't have to hear that cruel news."

Daniel looked at her appreciatively. "It says so much that your first reaction is to think of my father." He got up from his seat. "But don't be too sad for him." Reaching behind a filing cabinet, he pulled out the Marilyn Monroe teaching aid he used in his Intro course and laid it on the desk.

She looked at him uncertainly.

"A great writer once said that the best way to keep something safe is to hide it in plain sight. Let me show you something."

He turned the print over so she could see the reverse side covered in brown paper. Carefully he peeled the paper back, revealing an inscription: "To Ezra Morgan, for all his hard work. Andy Warhol."

"This is the real print?" Paloma gasped. "But it is the one you use in your classes. You told me about that -- it's just sitting here in your office!"

Daniel smiled and nodded.

"But when did you make the swap? The other print was hanging in your father's living room long before Marco and I moved in. For that matter, it was long before you learned what Susan was planning. And with all the security Senor Morgan had -- how could you have swapped it?"

Daniel grinned. "At first, Dad never thought his print was worth that much. After all, Warhol sold his screenprints originally for only a few hundred dollars each. But as his works grew in popularity, Dad began to worry about having a genuine artist's proof in his home. He and I discussed it, and I suggested we swap the real thing for a cheap print. I'd keep the real Warhol here and use it in my lectures so no one would suspect it had any value. He would keep the reproduction on his living room wall.

"Later, as Warhol's value kept rising, Dad came up with the idea of having security installed to guard it. He figured no one would question the authenticity of a work protected by all those security measures. It became a game to him: always looking for more high-tech gadgets to protect it."

Daniel smiled at Paloma. "Fortunately, there never was a burglary attempt, but I'm sure all that security helped convince Nicholson he was getting the real thing."

"So you swapped the prints before I went to work for your father?"

"That's right. I intended to swap the two back whenever Dad ultimately passed away. But after I learned about Grant and Susan, I saw a way to get back at both of them. After I talked with Dad that night, he had his attorney rewrite his will so Nicholson would be sure to dump Susan. Then I let Grant take the fake Warhol, figuring he'd want to show off his prize as quickly and as publicly as possible. Sure enough, he took the bait. And just like Susan, he lost his job, his marriage and his reputation."

"So what happens now?"

"My plan is to let all the commotion at Birch Grove die down. Once it does, I'll quietly notify the board that I found the real Warhol in a storage container I didn't know Dad had. After they've had a chance to verify its authenticity, I'll ask that it be hung with a plaque that memorializes my Dad's connection to Warhol."

"Don't you feel bad about not having the Warhol for yourself? After all, it was very valuable."

He smiled at her. "Honestly, I don't feel badly at all. I never wanted the responsibility of owning an important work of art. And as for the money, it was Susan who craved wealth and status, not me. After what I saw that craving do to her, I'm just as happy that it will be off my hands."

Then his smile grew even bigger. "Besides, I hope doing all this will help me a more important goal."

She stared at him uncertainly. "What goal is that?"

"To become part of a new family."

"What did you just say? What new family?"

Daniel stepped around the desk to take her hands in his. "A new family with you, Marco and me."

When the graduate student who'd come to see Professor Morgan saw the couple in each other's arms, she smiled and tiptoed away. Once she was well down the hall, she called a fellow student. "Remember how we were so worried about Professor Morgan after he lost his dad and his wife? Well, I think our favorite Prof is going to be OK."