Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83912 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83912 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“Chris Merit is a big deal in the art world. His support could change my life.”
“You admire him.”
“Yes. He’s talented and successful. And even though he’s really not from Sonoma, he just always felt like a local, and if one local could make it, another could, too.”
“Did you admire Macom? Was that part of the draw to him?”
“I met Macom before he made it. We both loved art and the creative process. And yes, he’s talented, but it was different. I don’t admire him.” Her hands settle on mine at her hips. “He called me yesterday, and I just feel like I should tell you.”
I go very still, that possessiveness I feel for Faith rising up inside me. “And?”
“I didn’t take the call. I can guess what it was about. He heard, probably before me, that I was in the show.”
“And he wanted to congratulate you?”
“More to gloat. He’s been there, done that; but of course, he’d mask it as a compliment. I don’t need that in my life right now and just wanted to tell you, Nick.” She pauses and then adds, “Thank you. I’ve known you such a short time, and you’ve been more supportive of my art than anyone else in my life.”
“It’s self-serving,” I say, leaning in to brush my lips over hers. “I want a beautiful artist in my bed, and if we don’t go right now, I might rip this dress, too.” I turn her toward the door.
…
We arrive at the gallery at seven thirty, and it’s not long before we’re ushered into a room full of at least fifty people, shiny white floors beneath our feet, wavelike rows of displays in random places. Faith and I work our way through the crowd, and when we’re offered champagne for a birthday toast, we both accept. “My preferred drink,” she tells me, sipping her bubbly. “It’s sweet, and we don’t make it. It’s also low alcohol, and I don’t tolerate much.”
“You really don’t like the winery, do you?”
“No,” she says. “I really don’t, but I’ve never said that to anyone but you. Just now.”
My hand settles at her hip. “It’s our secret.”
She looks at me, shadows in her eyes. “That’s trust, Nick. Just in case you didn’t know.”
Trust.
That I’ve already betrayed.
“Welcome, everyone!”
At the shouted greeting, I look up to find Chris Merit at the front of the room, the only person here in jeans, but it’s rather fitting. He’s a rock star in this world. “I just want to say happy birthday to my wife,” he announces, “and to tell her how proud I am of her and this gallery. Enjoy the art and chocolate cake, because it’s her favorite.”
Everyone applauds, and there are shouts of “happy birthday.” Chris catches my eye over the crowd right as soft music begins to play. He motions us forward, and I lift a hand to acknowledge him. “Empty that glass,” I tell Faith.
Her eyes go wide. “I can’t just down it.”
“Chris is waving you over.”
She downs the champagne, and I do the same with mine before handing our glasses to a waiter. I lace my fingers with Faith’s and lead her through the crowd while cake begins to circulate on trays. Chris, however, is cornered by fans, and Sara appears in front of us. “Faith!” she greets her, hugging Faith, her brown hair a contrast to Faith’s blonde, while waving at me over her shoulder.
I give her a nod, but she’s fully focused on Faith, as it should be. “I love your work,” Sara announces, leaning back to look at Faith. “Chris and I both love your work. Let’s go talk.” She motions us forward. “Come. Chris will catch up.”
She starts walking, and we follow her through the gallery to where two glass doors lead us to a heated outdoor sitting area, which has at least a dozen seats and rose bushes surrounding the exterior. “This space is our newest addition,” Sara says, claiming one of four seats forming a square while primly tugging down the skirt of her emerald green dress. “I want people to come here and talk art, then buy artists like yourself, Faith.”
“I’m incredibly honored that you want to include me,” Faith says, claiming the seat across from Sara while I sit next to Faith.
“We’d be honored to show your work,” Sara says. “Just to be sure that you’re aware—everything we do has a charity component, but we’re going to make that worth your while.”
“Exposure is everything,” Faith says. “I’m not worried about the money.”
“Thus why I’m her attorney,” I interject. “Because I am worried about her money.”
Faith glowers at me, and Sara laughs. “He’s fine, Faith. He should be worried about you. Chris would be the same way.” She refocuses on business. “I’m not sure what Chris told you, so I’ll start from scratch. The gallery officially opens in six weeks, but we’re basically letting people have VIP cards to enter a week sooner if they’re here tonight. I’d like to get your work here by then.”