“Now, actually,” I say, standing up, still in jeans, boots, and a royal blue silk blouse, that I will trade in for something fancier tonight in L.A for the Forum launch party. “Nick had a meeting this morning or I wouldn’t have come in at all. He’s picking me up in a few and we’re actually looking at a house on the way to the airport that the realtor swears we have to see and could lose if we wait.”
“Oh really? Where is it?”
“It’s a penthouse in some new high rise, which I wasn’t keen on being in a building, but the views are supposed to be stunning. Nick really wants to look.”
“We’re in a high rise and it’s pretty lovely to have the service and security as well as the views. We love it.” She motions to the wall behind me. “It’s beautiful, Faith.”
“Thank you. I’m so happy you like it.”
“Our opening day guests are going to love it, too. We’re going to allow only those who attend opening night to visit your room and Chris’s. And we’ll display a collection of your art on the walls here as well as in your display area. If you think you can spare a few more pieces? I know it’s short notice, but—”
“Yes. Yes of course, I can.Thank you. So much, Sara.”
“Thank you, Faith, for all you’ve done. And I know it’s a pipe dream, but I’d love for you to take the job I offered you and stay here full time. And since I really just threw it at you without explanation, let me share a little backstory. When Mark owned this place, it was a normal, public gallery. We had full time hours and full time staff. He was going to close it. He shuttered it for a while but was going to re-open it with us.”
“Shuttered because it wasn’t making a profit?”
“No. Aside from Rebecca’s situation, which affected Mark deeply, his family owns the Riptide Auction house in New York. He took over the management of that operation sooner than he’d expected. Chris and I didn’t want to take this place on as a full time job so we paid the staff big bonuses and considered closing it down.”
“What changed?”
“We started talking and got excited in a new way. We’re going to develop new talent and do so mostly with special events, with a healthy portion of the profits going to charity. And because I still travel with Chris, we need someone who understands art and can become passionate with us, while also running the place in my absence. My point here is that if the money is an issue—”
“Yes. Yes, I want to stay, this sounds wonderful and the charity focus is inspiring. I’m really not worried about the money.”
“Holy fuck,” Nick says, stepping into the doorway, looking delicious in a navy suit that matches his eyes almost perfectly. “What am I going to do with you, woman? Of course, you care about the money.”
Sara laughs and stands up, placing us both in profile. “Should I negotiate the salary with you?”
“No,” I say. “Nick does not get to negotiate my salary.” I look at him. “You do not get to negotiate my salary.”
“Technically you’re my client and—”
“Stop while you’re ahead, Tiger,” I warn, “because you won’t like the hotel sofa.”
His lips curve ever so slightly but he manages a stern look at Sara. “Do right by her.”
“Yes sir, Tiger,” she laughs, and then glances at me. “We shouldn’t let our two men spend too much time together without some rules. Their shared tendencies to control everything around them will have them feeding off each other, and we’ll be forced to check them.”
“Check me, sweetheart,” Nick says. “Just make sure it hurts.”
“On that note,” Sara says. “I’ll leave. Text me pictures from the show. And I’m talking to both of you.”
She darts past Nick and she’s barely left the office when he’s crossed the room to stand next to me, but facing my wall. “The gardens,” he says, studying my work before looking at me. “You painted your mother’s gardens and you did it in color.”
“It felt like a way to make peace with the past.”
“Did it work?”
“It helped,” I say. “And I think it opened me up to variations of color in my art.”
“With good reason,” he says. “The details alone are exceptional but the way you used color to create that detail is astounding.”
“Thank you, Nick. You are always so supportive.”
“Sweetheart, this isn’t me being supportive. That sounds like you have a hobby, not a career I admire.” He snags my fingers and pulls me to him. “We’re going to have an amazing weekend, starting with tonight’s welcome party.” He kisses me. “Correction. Starting with this penthouse we’re about to look at.” He glances at his watch. “We better get moving. It’s noon now. I want to be in the air by three thirty, so you have plenty of time to relax and dress for tonight. I’m parked out front.”
“High places make me nervous,” I say as we walk through the gallery toward the front door.