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Emma began to set up. She laid the drop cloth on the floor, set the canvas on an easel she’d picked up at a flea market, and unrolled the life-sized Aurora replica she’d had printed. Then she stood back, hands on hips. Maybe she’d done more than she thought, even though she hadn’t actually painted anything.
She reached for a brush and a tube of paint, then froze as a thought came unbidden. I can’t do this. She gently set the paint back in the box. Tomorrow, she would start working on the forgery. Today, she just couldn’t face picking up a brush again.
After a quick non-dinner of an apple and a granola bar, Emma climbed into bed, set her alarm for a fuzzy pre-dawn time, and closed her eyes. Despite her exhaustion, though, sleep didn’t come easily. When her alarm went off the next morning, Emma had a hard time believing she’d slept a wink.
She was up and dressed quickly. She bundled up in extra layers, including a thick scarf and a knitted hat, made a thermos of tea, and hurried to the office. She wanted to be sure she arrived before Patrick so she could put the next part of her plan into action.
Emma had noticed that Patrick often traveled via taxi, so she set up on a bench in clear view of the office entrance but slightly down the street so that she wouldn’t be immediately noticed. It was unusually cold, early in the morning in mid-October, and Emma sipped tea to stay warm. Hopefully, Patrick would arrive soon.
At just after six thirty, a taxi pulled up and Patrick’s familiar form emerged. Emma leapt to her feet, jogged a few steps, then slowed to a quick walk. Just as she’d planned, she reached the door a moment after Patrick and he held it open for her. He’d been turned away, so hopefully he hadn’t noticed her jogging toward him.
“Emma.” He smiled as he waved her inside in front of him. “Good morning.”
“Good morning.” She smiled back. “It’s a little chilly, though.”
“True.” Patrick started across the lobby at a brisk walk and Emma fell into step beside him, happy to be warm and inside. “You’re in early.”
“Lots to do. And you’re in early, too.”
He grinned. “Well, I’m the CEO, so it’s kind of my job. I can see why you write such good reports, though, if you’re getting in at this time regularly.”
“I try to.” And I certainly will be getting in at this time all week.
“Were you hoping to see the sunrise?”
Emma remembered that he’d recommended that to her. “Maybe.” She winked.
Patrick pressed the button to call the elevator, then turned to Emma, looking thoughtful. For a moment, she hoped he might invite her to watch the sunrise together, but he had something else on his mind.
“I was thinking about something you said yesterday. About how you don’t paint much anymore?”
Emma’s heart fluttered at the thought that he thought about her when she wasn’t there.
“Yes. That’s true. Although I actually tried to pick up a brush yesterday.”
“Tried to?”
The elevator arrived and they stepped into it. They were alone.
“Tried to,” Emma repeated. “I couldn’t do it.”
“Why not?”
Emma shrugged. “Fear, I suppose. I didn’t want to face the fact that I might not be talented enough to… um, paint what I want.” She’d come too close to admitting what she needed to paint. Get ahold of yourself!
“Well, I think you should paint. You’re clearly passionate about art, and I think the world is a poorer place if people don’t do what they’re passionate about.”
“I just don’t want to fail.” Emma knew she shouldn’t be admitting such true and personal things to Patrick, of all people, but being open felt… good. Almost intoxicating.
“Stop thinking about failing. Just pick up a brush and do it. Do you think I could have built LWC from the ground if I’d been worried about failing? I just had to start. And so do you.” Patrick gave Emma a small nod. “And that’s your unsolicited advice for the day. There’s obviously no need to follow it.”
As if on cue, the elevator dinged and the doors slid open to their floor.
“No, I, um, I appreciate it. Thanks, Patrick.”
“There’s no need to thank me. You helped me look at things in a new way yesterday, and if I can do the same, I want to. Anyway. I’ll see you around, Emma.”
With that, Patrick strode in the opposite direction down the hall, presumably toward his office. Emma turned and headed in the opposite direction, toward her own desk and the actual work she needed to do. With the long hours she’d been keeping, she was ahead on everything, but there was still a lot to do.
