Irrational Fear or Gut Instinct?

I need to be honest about something. A couple of months ago when one of the women I manage had just started working at my company, I told her about Gordon's art. This topic came up organically enough, and she was actually very taken by one piece in particular that she felt she wanted to buy.

A couple of e-mails to Gordon later, and I had potentially set up a very exciting sale for him.

Since that time there have been some stops and starts--Deb needing time to get the money together (art is expensive), mostly. During the course of this elongated waiting period, I have experienced a persistent, niggling fear that once Gordon meets this woman, he will become instantly attracted to her, and that he will want to pursue her.

I am worried because for as much as I have in common with Gordon, she would have just as much, if not more (I know because we've had enough conversations, and I've clicked enough with her that the parallels between her and me, and him and her, are obvious enough).

It doesn't matter that she is supposedly in a committed relationship with a man in New York--Ah... New York...something else they would share in common. Their disdain for Baltimore and utter love of the Big Apple. It doesn't matter that she is 24 with a five-year-old son. Love always finds a way, if it has the potential to be such.

I try to talk myself down from this ledge of fear all the time. I try to shoo away the inexplicable thought that occurred to me a scant two weeks before Deb began working with me--the thought of Gordon maybe dating a single mom sometime, and wondering how that would go over with his family. I was at the bus stop and this just occurred to me one morning....

I tried to comfort myself with Deb's pending plans to move back to New York--but in my heart I knew that somehow she wouldn't be able to do it when the time came. Yesterday she confirmed this. Money, or the lack thereof, won't allow it right now. Hmmm. Sounds familiar.

In any event, I took myself out of the logistics end of this painting sale a while back, so not knowing if and when they would ever make contact has been a source of nagging worry. I relaxed a bit more when Gordon told me a week ago that he had indeed heard from her, and that he hoped to set up a time for her to come by and look at the piece to make sure she wanted it.

Yesterday, I got tired of feeling helpless, so I asked her if she'd yet bought the painting. Apparently, Gordon hadn't answered her e-mail. I offered to call him (since I know he wants to make the sale), for which she seemed grateful. She told me she could put cash in his hand next week, once she's back from visiting... New York...that's right.

I am torn because I never want him to set eyes on this cute dynamo with a pixie hair cut, sharp wit, taste in music that probably matches his more than mine, who has a body that would entice him more than mine would, I'm sure. But I want him to do well; I want him to have enough money. I want the world to know and experience his art.

So I called him and let him know he could have money next week--we agreed that he would just call me to set up something since reaching Deb on his own had brought minimal success (apparently, he had e-mailed her back, but she'd not gotten the message). I am the liaison once again. On the one hand, that brings with it a degree of comfort and control. On the other hand, I am worried that I will be forced to be the architect of my own despair.

It didn't help that during my conversation with him yesterday that he asked if Deb "[has] a rich boyfriend or something" because I said she'd be in the bahamas (now it's New York. Long story.) for a few days. I couldn't tell if that was his way of trying to find out her status, or if the question was unloaded with double intent. I took the opportunity to tell him that she is indeed attached, but that I'm not under the impression that her guy is rich. And, God help me, being a woman, I took the opportunity to mention her five-year-old child.

Moments later, he mentioned my grandmother's passing and her pending funeral. He told me he knew that seeing my father was going to be the hardest part of the whole situation. He asked me again if I knew details about the service--where and when it would be. He expressed a willingness to drive me there if I needed him to, provided his car held up. To say that I was touched, and temporarily bolstered, would be an understatement.

And as I later found out, I would need his assistance. But... his car died. So he can't help me, afterall.