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“Love you, punkin.”
“Love you too, Dad.”
Just as we end the call, it rings again.
Still not Elias. It’s a number I don’t recognize. “Hello?”
“Is this Zara Fox?”
“Yes.”
“Hi, Zara, this is Imogen MacBeth from the Sea Glass Gallery in New York City.”
“Oh. Hi.” The Sea Glass? Imogen MacBeth is one of the most respected art dealers in the country. It’s been my dream to work with her for a long time. She’s also the one that sent me the rejection. “I got your letter.”
“Yes, about that. I’m calling because some new information has come to light and we’ve changed our minds. We got an email from a certain…quarterback, apparently. Just a few hours ago. He sent us a link to his Instagram, which he said has a post of one of your paintings. Did you know about it?”
I’m not sure how I could have forgotten about that, but it’s true I’ve been distracted…by the very same quarterback she’s referring to. “He did mention it.”
“It has over three million views, he said, and there are quite a few expressions of interest for the painting. Extremely generous offers, in fact. Have you seen those offers?”
“Um…no, not really.”
“If you agree to sign with us, Zara, we could help you navigate those offers. It’s what we do for our artists and we pride ourselves on being the best in the business. Zara?” If I’m not mistaken, she sounds hopeful.
“Yes?”
“May I ask, is the painting still available? The one the quarterback posted?”
“Yes. Yes, it is.”
Her excitement beams itself through the airwaves and it’s a strange turn of events, having Imogen MacBeth relieved to hear that my obscure little hidden-away painting hasn’t sold yet. “I’m very happy to hear that. Do you have…other paintings, Zara?”
“Yes. I do.”
“How many, would you say?”
“How many paintings?”
“Yes.”
I think about this for a second. “Maybe two hundred. Probably more like two fifty.”
“Two hundred?”
“Maybe even closer to three hundred.”
There’s a breathless delight in her voice when she continues. “Zara, we’d be very interested in viewing those paintings. And we’d like to provisionally offer you an exclusive exhibition here at the Sea Glass.”
“Oh.” Wow. Even my mother didn’t get exclusive until later in her career. “I would absolutely love that.”
“Is there a date and time that would be convenient for us to come view your work? Do you have time, say, next weekend? How about a week from Sunday?”
“Yes, I can do Sunday. How’s five o’clock?”
“Five is perfect. Is the address the same as the one I sent your letter to?”
“It is.”
