Matthew took the elevator to street level.
When the doors opened, Jack offered an approving nod.
“Good night, Jack.” Matthew patted the desk as he walked by.
“You clean up nice. All that outfit lacks is a pretty woman on your arm.” Jack chuckled at his own ribbing.
Matthew shook his head as he walked outside and slid into the soft leather backseat of the Mercedes. Bringing a date to his own gallery show never worked. One or the other suffered, and either way he came out the loser.
When they arrived at the gallery, he watched the steady stream of people dressed in their finest move toward the building. The driver pulled around to the back entrance.
Matthew got out before he could make it around. He wasn’t one for that kind of special treatment.
The driver met him at the back of the car. “Have a good night, Mr. McMahon. I’ll be here waiting whenever you’re ready to leave.”
“Thank you.” Matthew strode toward the back door, praying the imposter syndrome would subside once he walked inside.
“Good evening, Mr. McMahon.” A woman with a clipboard stood waiting for him. “We have great attendance tonight. I have a list of buyers who’d like to meet you.”
At least the concern that no one would show up could be put to rest. He followed the woman inside, reminding himself that this was the part of the job that allowed him to hire young artists and do the things he really loved.
Chapter
Five
It had been years since Matthew had shown in this particular gallery, but they’d pulled out all the stops for him tonight.
He entered the grand space to a buzz of excitement. His work was displayed thematically, not chronologically, so old and new pieces played off one another in an interesting way.
Taking slow, meandering steps, he walked around the gallery, burning off nervous energy before interacting with people as the artist.
Even after all this time, he still felt vulnerable at these things.
Emotional memories lived in his art. Some highs and some desperate lows. Perhaps that was why he loved his mural work so much. Because the expectations were so different and he could remain somewhat anonymous with that work.
Travis, the gallery manager, a tall, slim man wearing skinny slacks and cordovan shoes so shiny they almost looked elf-like, had spotted him and was practically sprinting across the room.
Matthew had hoped to see all his work displayed before he got wrangled in, but Travis had cut through the crowd and had his arm extended from eight feet away.
“Matthew. Good to see you.” Travis announced the greeting purposely loud enough to turn heads, then clasped Matthew’shand with excitement, pressing his other hand on top as if he were afraid Matthew might slip away. “People are loving this collection,” he whispered. “I hope you like how we’ve set everything up.”
“The lighting on the smaller canvases you moved out to the pedestals is stunning,” Matthew said. “I almost didn’t recognize one of them as my own work.”
Travis rose to the complimentary observation. “I’m the master.”
“That is true,” Matthew said with all sincerity. Travis was new to this Richmond gallery, but he’d displayed Matthew’s work in Chicago twice, with amazing results. “Thank you for hosting me tonight.”
“People are very interested in your work… and you.” Travis practically had dollar signs flashing in his eyes. “There’s a collector from Miami I need to introduce you to. He’s an adventurer, and he’s already picked out eight of your pieces.” He hooked a finger. “Come.”
Matthew was relieved the night was off to a good start. “Excellent.”
Travis stopped for a brief moment to introduce Matthew to the mayor, and then to an interior decorator from Alexandria interested in buying art for a new project. “We’ll swing back in just a bit,” he said with a promising smile.
Travis wove in and out of the crowd and then made an abrupt stop that left Matthew right on his heels in front of a heavy-set man who oozed Miami without ever mentioning the sunshine state.
“The artist himself,” Travis said. “Matthew McMahon, I’m pleased to introduce you to Don Lee Cohn, who has the golden touch with several foundations, and is a Michelin-star restaurateur. We’re so delighted to have him with us tonight.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Matthew extended his hand.
