I’d answer that claim, but a shout from the distance interrupts. “You have a meeting in ten minutes!”
At the sound of the female voice delivering that message, I turn to find a redhead rushing in our direction, her black high heels, which she’s paired with a black dress, clicking on the pavement. “That would be Rita,” Nick says, leaning in to kiss me. “I’ll call you in a few hours.” He takes off, but calls over his shoulder, “Call the realtor. Any realtor.”
Rita steps in front of me. “Faith. I’ve been dying to meet you and I can’t even chat. I have to go deal with a million things. Let’s have lunch soon.”
“I’d love that.”
She starts to turn away and I stop her. “Wait. He has a meeting?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Chinese food on his conference table.”
“Oh my God. It’s the CEO of a bank. It’s going to smell to high heaven up there.”
She takes off for the elevator and I laugh, walking to the BMW and climbing inside. Happy. I feel happy. Nick and I moved mountains last night and I feel that success between us. But I also feel the heavy weight of knowing that I have an enemy that has now become Nick’s. And I really need a paintbrush in my hand before I start thinking about all the ways that enemy might strike next.
***
By mid-morning, Sara and I have made our final artist picks for opening week and I’ve been sketching ideas for the wall, which isn’t my normal method of working, but this isn’t my normal canvas. It’s also a really big canvas to mess up. I’m on what must be sketch number one hundred when Chris appears in my doorway, looking his normal, jean-clad, tattooed, cool artist self. “Nick called me.”
I set my pencil down. “About?”
“Every customer that bought your work has bought from the gallery on numerous occasions. And every painting was purchased by an individual. He didn’t give me details on why you wanted to know this information, but I’ll use my imagination. No one bought your success. You made it.” He motions behind me. “You going to paint that thing or think about it?”
“Paint it,” I say, and that seems to satisfy him, because he disappears into the hallway.
I smile on a sigh with the realization that despite his meeting, Nick made me a priority again. He gave away that club because he made me a priority. He reaches for me constantly in so many ways. It’s time for me to reach for him. I need to show how committed I am to him and I open my drawer where I stashed the piece of paper with the realtor choices listed. I’m reaching for it when I pause with a thought. Nickisreaching for me. Helping me. Protecting me. I need to protect him. I need to make sure that my enemy doesn’t turn on him, and hurt him in some way. I need to buy him and Beck some time to investigate further.
I pick up my cellphone, and assuming that my enemy is my uncle, I dial his number. Unsurprisingly, he answers on the first ring. “Faith,” he greets. “I’m shocked you called. Happy, but shocked.”
“Yes well, I keep thinking about those photos. I really miss my father and I’d like to see them.”
“I’ll bring them to you. I’m in New York on business, but I can head that way this weekend.”
“I actually moved to San Francisco and I have craziness going on getting ready for the L.A. Art Forum in two weeks. And…I’d rather start with the pictures.”
He’s silent a beat. “Understood. What’s your email? I’ll shoot you over a few of them and bring you the box when we meet after your show.”
He’s teasing me with the photos and setting me up for the meeting. It irritates me, but it also buys me that time. “[email protected] Thank you. I’m looking forward to seeing the photos.”
“Of course. Shoot me back an email and let me know what you think of them.”
“I will. Goodbye.” I end the call knowing the twig I’ve given him is enough to buy some time for Nick and Beck to figure out what’s really going on. Assuming of course that my enemy is my uncle.
It might not be him. In which case, I’ve bought no time at all.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Faith
Two weeks later…
“Good luck tonight and tomorrow.”
I look up from my desk to find Sara in the doorway. “Thank you. I was nervous two weeks ago when I shipped my work and then I just put it aside. I didn’t think about it. But right now, my stomach is at my feet, and I think it’s pretty clear that I saved all the nerves for now.”
“Nerves are good,” she says, walking to my visitor’s chair and perching on the arm. “They mean you’re experiencing life, not just going through the motions. And I went through the motions for too many years myself. I wish I could be there for you. Chris and I both wish we could be there, but it’s just too close to the grand opening here. When are you leaving?”