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She studied her hands and the phone beside them, a reminder of all the comments, likes, shares, and follows of the Instagram posts. It had to be right, this decision. She could do it. This loss, this pain she felt now. It would go. “You don’t know that, Ethan. You and your band are huge. And the mystery behind Elijah Harmon is too big to go away. They’ll find you. If they haven’t already. And when they do, your name will be out there.”
“No,” he whispered. “No. I won’t let it. I’ll protect you from all that, Kate.”
She finally looked up and tried to smile, but the tears were welling hard, slipping down her face silently. “I know you want to believe that, Ethan, but you and I both know that you won’t be able to.”
Forty
Christmas music filtered into the office where Kate had her laptop, checking one last reference for the exhibition catalog. Out in the gallery, Cassidy was helping to unpack the crates that had been delivered only a half-hour before. Except for the music, it was hard to believe Christmas was the day after tomorrow, and even now Kate couldn’t understand why Cassidy would choose to play such insipid music in her gallery, especially with the gallery closing until after New Year, and the need to please potential buyers all but ended.
The gallery was in transition. All the walls were bare of anything but the new paint recently applied, covering any marks and remains of holes and mounts from the previous show. If only Kate could cover over the holes and remains of what had been her life up until this point. What had seemed like a purposeful transition before was now becoming more aimless, especially since she’d finished her pieces for the show. All but one, in any case. Something about House of Clouds wasn’t coming together. It didn’t seem finished. All the others she’d worked on almost without stop in the last few weeks, rushing them off one by one to the framers. Now they were all here, waiting for Cassidy’s final approval. Except for that one piece. And any joy she might have felt at this accomplishment was only a pale, faded imitation of any initial excitement about this exhibition. Right now, it was difficult to muster any interest. Giancarlo’s interests hung over her still, but the greater pain of the loss of Ethan’s presence in her life was more intense, despite any efforts to rationalize it or push it aside.
Cassidy leaned into the office, her lean figure beautifully dressed in a dark rust-colored jumpsuit, her hair a crown of wound cornrows. “You have to come out here and see them lined up against the wall, Kate. They’re absolutely stunning.”
Kate forced a smile at her enthusiasm, knowing she should be relieved to hear Cassidy’s praise. She had doubted herself at the last minute, her relentless work and absorption in the project she’d thought had colored her abilities to dispassionately assess the pieces. Doubts that had seemed to increase in the light of Giancarlo’s silence and Ethan’s. But as she made her way to the gallery, a brief email sent that morning from Giancarlo stating curtly he hoped all was in order for her exhibition, she’d found any nerves had disappeared in a fog of disinterest. Was it the looming trip to Italy to begin the next exhibition? Or the fact that she dreaded his appearance at the opening of this exhibition?
She made her way out to the gallery where Cassidy and her assistant Trey had each of the framed pieces set up in a line along the walls. They would be spread out once they were hung, spilling over into the midsection that divided the front section from the back section of the gallery space. Kate surveyed the result and found herself tearing up, unable to explain to herself why. The framing was perfect. They were ivory-white with palest of pale green, taupe, blue and amber mats, depending on the image and the poem. Cassidy had helped, giving the benefit of her experience and knowledge of her own gallery space. A joint effort. An effort that had its origins in Giancarlo, something she’d rather forget.
She’d been tempted to call Ethan in the last few weeks’ time and time again as the yawning absence made her days so much less than they’d been. An absence that had taken up space in her heart and permeated all the emotions she’d managed to muffle. As much as she tried to tell herself it was better for her to find her own way through these next months, her heart remained unconvinced. It remembered his scent, the touch of his fingers across her lips, along her hip.It didn’t hear the rationale that it was best not to be drawn into promises and possibilities until she knew what she wanted for herself. A mature notion, a good decision. And, she told herself, she knew what she didn’t want, at least. Besides, Ethan had left Somerton Lake the same day they’d spoken, his fear of the press driving him back to New York. At least that’s what Tom had said. It had been a wise choice, Kate knew. And she’d taken refuge in the attic, working away at all hours, Max her only company, while people knocked and knocked on the door, occasionally calling up to the windows. Tom had secluded himself in the store workshop, while Fred fended off any unwanted attention. It had lasted a week. Surely that was enough to convince Kate she’d been right in what she’d said to Ethan. She reminded herself of that countless times.
“What do you think?” asked Cassidy. “It’s going to be fab. The best show this winter. I just know it. I feel it in my bones.”
“Oh, honey, it’s going to be the talk of the town,” said Trey.
Trey’s large, round, dark-rimmed glasses winked in the overhead light, his closely cropped hair accentuating their size. He crossed his arms, staring at the array of artwork, his tightly fitted fuchsia-colored T-shirt hugging his muscled arms. He’d slung his forest green jacket on the only chair in the room, and Kate could see from the lines it was expensive. She hadn’t met Trey before, but Cassidy had assured her that he had an unerring eye when it came to hanging works in her gallery. When they’d met he’d appraised her just as he was appraising her artwork now, and it drew a smile from her, deciding she liked him.
The three of them stood discussing the art, Trey moving forward to shift and position pieces in groups, getting a feel for their arrangement in a tactile approach that Kate found reassuring. It was absorbing to see her vision blend with first Cassidy’s and then Trey’s.
Trey picked up the “Two Trees” piece. The trees were maples, half-cast in silhouette, leaning into each other, with the phrases “gyring, spyring” repeated in drifting letters around the half bare trees. “This is a feature piece, I think,” he said, walking over to the short center wall. “One that we want people to see when they first walk in.”
“I still have one more,” Kate said. “It’s bit bigger than that one. You might want it to be in that place instead.”
The gallery bell rang, once, twice, three times in succession before a pause, and then it rang again.
Cassidy sighed. “I’d better get that. It’s probably some customer desperate to buy a last-minute Christmas present.” She grinned. “They can be the best, though. Money’s no object and all that.”
“Oh, darling, reel them in,” said Trey.
Kate gave a small laugh. Trey held up the piece against the wall. “I don’t know, I still think this one has ‘feature’ written all over it.”
“How about we keep it as a possible, or see if we can fit both?”
Trey shook his head. “The theme, the message of both, has to work. No, just get that piece here pronto, missy.”
Kate nodded, resolving to finish it as soon as she returned to Somerton Lake, the day after Christmas. Tom and she had both decided that since she was going up to New York City so close to Christmas Day, they would spend it in New York City. Tom would join her tomorrow, Simon looking after Max for them, once the store was shut. It seemed best. There was plenty to do in New York City. Plenty to take their minds off of things.
“Kate, there’s someone here who says he has to talk to you.”
Kate turned around, her mind frozen at the thought it might be Ethan, but the figure who entered the gallery was Zig.
“Kate,” said Zig. “Do you mind if we go somewhere and talk?”
She found herself momentarily at a loss for words, but finally managed a nod.
“You can use the office,” said Cassidy. “We’ll just go out for a quick coffee.”
“I’m sorry. Do you mind?” Kate asked Cassidy. She wanted to get this over with, and this arrangement seemed the best way.
“No, no, not at all,” said Cassidy. “Go right ahead. We’ll be off after we get our coats.”
