Page 39 of Theo of Golden

And then he would be off and running.

Some of the most insistent, like Tony and Shep, pushed hard to get Theo’s elusive surname, but even they finally gave up trying. They hoped he might share an email address or use a credit card someday that might provide a clue as to his full identity.

But Theo didn’t use email or have a presence on social media that they could find. Likewise, he never used a credit card with his name on it while he was in Golden. Mr. Ponder, who handled all of Theo’s business, including his mail, finances, and internet accounts, had taken steps to protect his client’s anonymity. Theo had a single credit card that was in the name of “PH Ltd.” No clues there.

So, eventually, people’s curiosity simply dried up. As they spent more and more time around him, they cared less and less about the second half of his name. If he didn’t want to share it, for whatever reason, well, so be it.

The fact that he was associated with and even lived in the office building of Mr. James Ponder gave him credibility and standing that he might never have earned on his own.

Mr. Ponder’s single statement, “Mr. Theo is a fine gentleman,” was more than enough to assure most Goldenites that Theo was a man above reproach, whether he had one name or three or ten.

The unspoken consensus of the neighborhood was that he would be judged by his fruits, by what could be seen with their own eyes. And soon, by those standards — demeanor, speech, generosity — those who knew him became convinced that, whoever he was, Theo could be trusted.

No last name.

Aside from that quirk, they were certain he was just like them, an average law-abiding citizen, only older and better.

Or so they thought.

CHAPTER 24

Whenever a portrait was sold and removed from the Chalice, another one, from inventory kept in Shep and Addie’s office, was put in its place. Within minutes, a face would be freed from storage and brought into public view.

Theo greeted those newcomers enthusiastically. Each one meant another name, another story, and another thread for the living tapestry he was weaving with the bestowals.

What did become obvious early on was that, at the rate of one a week, it would take almost two years to depopulate the Chalice wall of its then-present occupants. Concluding there was no good reason to limit himself in that way, Theo resolved to increase the frequency of his giftings. He could do at least two, maybe three, each week. He had the time, the desire, and the money.

It was Mrs. Gidley who most felt the effects of Theo’s accelerated activity. Addresses of recipients could be difficult to find, especially when Asher used nicknames on the back of the portraits. It took considerable sleuthing, for instance, to ascertain that “Chard” Dellamore was actually Richard or that “G Dawg” Salter was actually Brian.

Mr. Ponder volunteered to hire additional help, but Mrs. Gidley quickly shot down the proposal. By now, she was fully invested in Theo’s “silly idea.”

After stepping up the frequency of bestowals, Theo’s apartment was inhabited at any given time by three, four, or as many as half a dozen faces, propped up on the couch, leaning on a windowsill in the kitchen, or looking down from a bookshelf. And his calendar began to fill up with appointments. Tuesday, Bob, seven o’clock. Thursday, Hendley, seven o’clock. Monday, Ahmad, seven o’clock. He spent a portion of most days at his dining room table, handwriting invitation letters for Mrs. Gidley to deliver.

One bestowal presented a unique challenge: Ellen.

Even though she was a regular presence on the Promenade, she had no address to which a letter could be mailed.

Shep told Theo what little he knew about her. “She’s homeless, but I think she stays at the Mission sometimes. I’ve heard she sleeps under the bridge a lot and who knows where else.” Shep chuckled and shook his head. “Asher had a devil of a time getting a photograph of her. She kept talking about the goons from Columbia, whoever they are, and he could hardly get her to sit still. He had to take her picture at one of the tables outside. She’s an interesting person. You want me to try to find her for you?”

“I would like to get a letter to her,” Theo explained. “Do you know if she can read?”

“She’s pretty private, and I can’t say I’ve talked to her all that much. She never actually comes inside the shop. She doesn’t want to leave her bicycle alone. But somebody bought her a cup of hot chocolate one day and took it to her. Now she’ll just come and stand at the window till we see her. We always take her a cup of hot chocolate.

“Sometimes she’s on another planet, but other times she’s pretty clear-headed. I’ve seen books on her bicycle before, and I think she reads them. If you give me the letter, I’ll try to give it to her next time I see her. She passes by here pretty often.”

“Do you know her last name?”

On the back of her portrait, Asher had simply written “Ellen.”

The barista shook his head. “I’ve never heard anyone say her full name. She’s always just been ‘Ellen’ to me.” Shep raised his eyebrows. “All she has is a first name. Kind of weird, isn’t it?”

They both laughed.

Theo left the letter with Shep. It was shorter than others he had sent and was written with the simplest of words and the shortest of sentences.

Dear Ellen,

Mr. Glissen, the artist, drew a very nice picture of you. I saw it in the Chalice, the coffee shop near the fountain. I bought your portrait and would like you to have it. It is a gift. You do not have to pay anything for it or do anything in exchange. If you will, please meet me at the fountain this Thursday at four o’clock in the afternoon, and I will deliver it to you.