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“Very well. Best not to keep Mr. Allair waiting,” he comments as he walks away.
I approach my father’s office and knock twice before entering.
“Papa, I’m here,” I greet, going over to his desk. I lean over to kiss his cheek, and he smiles in reply, motioning for me to take a seat.
“You called me over despite my busy schedule,” I begin as I sit down. “What’s the rush, Papa?”
“First, I’d like to ask about your deal in the other branch. I trust that everything went well?” he asks instead, even though he’s the one who said we’d talk about that sale over dinner.
“Yeah,” I answer, matching his relaxed demeanor. “Although the customer was relentless. How could she insist that something of that quality be paid more than it’s worth?”
Papa leans back in his chair. “But you managed to close the deal. For how much? I’d say €406,500?”
“Lower. €340,900,” I sigh, easing into my chair. “It was supposed to be lower than that, given how the artwork wasn’t of high standard at all.”
My father chuckles, tapping his finger on his desk. “Ididteach you right, Jenny. And I’m proud you didn’t yield to her.”
I beam, feeling shy at his praise. “Thank you, Papa. I’ll continue to do my best.”
“That’s great! Because I have a new project, and I need your expert skills in making this dream of mine a reality.”
There it is.
I shift in my seat, bracing myself for the news. Whenever Papa wants something done, he sees to it that it becomes a reality, and in that regard, we are two peas in a pod. We get sour whenever things don’t go our way, so I understand his excitement about his plans.
Except, this time, there’s a feeling in my chest I can’t shake off. I trust my intuition more than anything…but I’m not about to deny Papa what he wants.
“So, what’s this project you’re excited about? I can feel your energy from where I’m seated,” I tell him, trying to keep calm.
“As you know, Musee du Allair only takes in the best artworks out there,” he begins, walking up to the side of his desk. He leans on the edge and looks at me with a glint in his eyes. “And currently, I have a painting I want to acquire no matter what.”
“And what is this painting?” He rarely ever gets worked up about getting a piece for the museum, so this artist must be an incredibly well-known figure in the art scene.
“Well, if you’ve been keeping up with the art scene online, you’d have read articles about this mysterious artist from Italy called Ren.” He crosses his arms, his eyebrows furrowing as he engages in deep thought. “And the piece Ren is currently working on has got all of the critics talking about it.”
I pique with interest. A mystery artist whom critics hold in such high regard?
“How come?” I say, sounding my thoughts out unintentionally.
“In an interview, Ren claims it’s the culmination of his life’s work. Although—get this—no one has evenseenthe artwork itself!”
“Are you serious?” I ask, my eyes bulging. “How can critics flock to the artist and the piece when he hasn’t even shown it to the public yet?”
“From my sources, I’ve heard that he hasn’t finished it yet.” Papa brings a hand to his chin. “Although itisindeed peculiar that critics would be interested in it as early as now. Even museums and collectors are already haggling prices to get their hands on it.”
My eyebrows shoot up in wonder. “That will soon include us.”
“Correct! As you may have guessed, this is exactly what I’m dreaming of, Jenny.” He claps his hands together, smiling brightly. “And I need your assistance in gettingThe Ephemerality of Seasons, Ren’s masterpiece that has the entire art world clamoring.”
“So when do you want me to meet this artist? I’ll have my office arranged immediately for his arrival.”
Papa stares at me and then booms in laughter, reaching out to clap a hand on my shoulder. A funny feeling settles in my stomach as he looks me dead in the eyes.
“My dear child, you’ll be going to Italypersonallyto convince Ren to sell the piece to us.”
54
REN
