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“Of course you are,” she said absently. She walked around the column of marble. “You did this alone?”
I bristled. “I’d have given credit otherwise.”
“Relax.” She held a hand up. “It’s just really different from your usual work.”
I stared at the angel with her outspread wings. Instead of being in a pious stance as most were, she was suspended from a spire of copper with thin wires, and in a falling position. Her body was a mosaic of different glass from smoky to clear, but her wings were panels of the same smoke-tinged gold. Such unusual glass.
I’d had it forever, but never had the right project to use it.
Until now.
Each of the panels was framed in copper. It gave the piece a fragile nature, even though it was one of the most intricate and sturdy pieces I’d ever done.
And it was my hail Mary play at this point. I was out of materials, out of money, out of options. This was my only chance to start over.
Phil stood next to me. “We’re going to end up with a bidding war.”
“You think?”
“I know.” She patted my arm. “It’s a good thing you got fired. You’re going to be busy.”
“Mrs. Stanwick?”
She turned to the tall, austere student in the doorway. “Yes, Stephen?”
“It’s seven o’clock.”
“Right.” Philomena hooked her arm through mine. “You ready?”
“No.”
She bumped my shoulder. “Spoken like a true artist. Let’s get this party started.”
The next three hours were a whirlwind of patrons and locals who came for the gossip. Many knew me by name, so I was constantly being pulled in nineteen directions. Sales, schmoozing, glad-handing, and the all-important bits of gossip made the night fly by.
Each time I heard my piece mentioned I had to talk my stomach into behaving.
Can’t throw up at the gallery. That’s not good form at all.
I had a hard time going into the Cove Room though. I didn’t want to hear reactions to my piece at all. Good or bad, I just wasn’t sure I could handle it tonight.
I finally escaped to the small break room and collapsed into a chair. I’d been talking for three hours straight and the herd didn’t seem to be thinning at all. It was Black Friday so there were a lot more families in town than normal. Marblehead was mostly a seasonal place when it came to tourists.
I hauled myself up to go to the fridge for a bottle of water. Inside was a white bag. I frowned and peeked inside.
“I think that’s yours.”
I spun around. “What?”
Linda nodded toward the fridge. “If you’re looking at the white bag. That tall, really good looking man in the dark suit brought it in for you.”
“Oh.” I wasn’t sure what to think about that. I vaguely remembered him holding a bag when I’d seen him earlier. But then we’d…well, we’d been too worried about getting naked to talk about how and why he’d been there. He’d actually brought me food—thinking it was my house he was going to.
The butterflies were finally silenced, but now my chest felt tight. I brought the bag to the table. I pulled out two tins with white tops.
Linda sat down across from me. “What’d you get? Chinese?”
I tucked a fingernail under the pinched tin sides and peeled back the white top. My stomach roared at the scent of dressing and turkey. I opened the other tin and it was full of cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes and a large container of gravy.
