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“What’s excellent?” Haley asked. She’d just come strolling out of the kitchen and was looking a little pooped.
“You are, my dear,” Drayton said. “Compliments on your luncheon menu were piling up so high today I could hardly dare tell you for fear you’d run off and open your own bakery or start a restaurant. Leave us in the lurch.”
“I’m leaving,” Haley said. “But not in the lurch.” She shook her head. “Is that right? The lurch thing?”
“It’s all right as long as you continue to turn out such lovely scones, tea breads, and lunches,” Theodosia said.
Haley reached back, gathered her fine blond hair into a ponytail, and popped on a scrunchie. “Hey, you know I love it here.” She yawned. “Okay then, gotta go. Busy night.”
“Is Ben picking you up?” Theodosia asked.
“Naw, we’re gonna get together tomorrow night and try out a new recipe for beef braciole. Tonight I have my advanced cake decorating course at the Culinary Institute.”
“See,” Drayton said to Theodosia. “Haley is going to open her own bakery.”
“Maybe someday,” Haley said. “Just not in the foreseeable future.”
“What about that American bistro course you told me about?” Theodosia asked. “Where you learn how to make torched burrata, chimichurri, and Roman-style gnocchi?”
“That’s next semester,” Haley said.
“Yum,” Drayton said. “I can hardly wait.”
12
The Arts Alliance was housed in a rehabbed warehouse over on Bay Street near the Cooper River. It was a redbrick monstrosity that had been updated with industrial carpet and track lighting, with most of the overhead beams and patchy brick walls left exposed. It looked, Theodosia thought, like thousands of places all over the country where old buildings had been repurposed and touted as historic landmarks that were perfect for arts organizations.
Theodosia and Drayton walked down a hallway where closed doors had signs that said writer’s resource and the kindred players. When they got to the Arts Alliance, a young woman at the front door held out her hand and said, “Tickets?”
“We don’t have tickets,” Theodosia said.
“Three dollars each, then,” the woman said, adding, “It’s a donation more than an admission fee.”
“No problem.” Theodosia handed over six dollars and they stepped inside a large, well-lit room that was already jam-packed with people. They were crowded around easels that held paintings and tables filled with ceramics. More oil and acrylic paintings were hung like a mishmash of colorful postage stamps on every bit of wall space. There was a bar set up in the far corner, a DJ with a soundboard, and a few servers circulating with trays of appetizers.
“Impressive,” Drayton said. “A good crowd as well as an exceptional amount of art to choose from.”
“Except,” Theodosia said, “we haven’t actually looked at the art yet. It could all have been done by amateurs.”
But as they elbowed their way through the crowd, the caliber of art for sale turned out to be very nice indeed. Drayton immediately found a contemporary-looking teapot, a square blue ceramic piece with a yellow handle, that he simply had to place a bid on. Then Theodosia discovered a moody watercolor that depicted a sailboat regatta cutting across the choppy waves of Charleston Harbor, so she also placed a bid.
“This silent bidding is far more civilized than a regular auction,” Drayton said. “Where you have to shout out your bid.”
“Except somebody can come along after you’ve written your bid and put down a higher bid,” Theodosia said. “Then you have to circle back and beat that bid.”
“Good point.”
They wandered through the room, looking at the art, chatting quietly, keeping a lookout for Ginny Bell.
“Which one is she?” Theodosia asked Drayton. There were any number of officious-looking young women scurrying about.
“I’m not entirely sure. I only met her the one time.”
“Then we’ll ask someone,” Theodosia said. “Excuse me,” she said to a young man who was walking past her, juggling a large canvas. “Are you with the Arts Alliance?”
He stopped and nodded. “I’m Duncan Hall, the membership coordinator.”
“We’re looking for Ginny Bell,” Theodosia said. “Could you point her out to us? That’s if she’s here?”
