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AFTER BOLTING OUT OF CAROLINE’S TOWN CAR AT THE STATIONand climbing the stairs to the platform, I’m relieved to see there’s a southbound train in only seven minutes. I pace back and forth on the platform, and briefly flirt with the idea of calling Bradley Kane to tell him about my run-in with Jane Whaley but decide I don’t have the psychic energy at the moment.
The train seems to come out of nowhere, blowing a mournful sound with its horn and clicking over the tracks, and I end up in a half-full car where I’m able to snag a row to myself. I spend the ride rehashing the morning in my mind: the meeting with Kane; the ambush by C.J.’s widow; the unsettling conversation with Caroline. Is there something I missed today, something that could help me better understand why this has all happened to me? Though I’ve taken Caroline at her word that she has no clue why I’m the beneficiary, I’m beginning to suspect that Kane might be aware of more than he was letting on. But I don’t know how to extract the information from him.
What if I simply let go of the need to understand the situation,and do as Caroline suggested: take the money and run? Part of me yearns to do exactly that, but it feels foolhardy to think there won’t be a huge buckle in the road ahead, one that throws me on my ass. The last dozen years of my life could be a haiku titled “Other Shoe Dropping,” so why should now be any different? Maybe Jane Whaley will come after the money at full throttle, or this whole experience will turn out to have been some massive misunderstanding.
It seems like no time at all has passed when the windows suddenly darken and the train begins to wobble through the tunnel into Grand Central. After exiting, I hop on the 6 train to Astor Place and start walking east. I’m tempted to stop off at my apartment to change clothes and decompress for a few minutes, but I need to get to my studio as soon as possible, so I drop in to a deli for a chicken wrap and then hurry toward Second Avenue. Approaching the building, I catch a quick glimpse of Alejandro departing with a large portfolio case, which means that at least one studio near mine will be empty, but as soon as I’m inside and on my floor, I pick up sounds of people behind a few of the closed doors. Though I don’t want to interact with any of the other tenants, it’s always nice to know they’re around.
I let myself into the studio, drop my sandwich on the counter, and, still in my coat, turn my attention to the collage. Somehow, miraculously it had finally come together late yesterday, but I want to make sure the glue is dry and smooth out any rough spots, before I photograph and pack it up.
After thirty minutes or so of fussing, I snap photos with my camera, and then stand the collage on the counter, studying it as I finally wolf down the chicken wrap. I do really like the piece, I decide. Though it might not be as strong as some of the others in the show, it’s got a certain style, and I sense it will not only look good in the mix but also hold up on its own.
At just after four, realizing Josh is probably wondering where Iam, I dig out bubble wrap and brown paper from the cabinet where I keep them and secure the collage carefully with them. Twenty minutes later I’m in an Uber, pointed toward the gallery on the Lower East Side. It’s my second of the day, an expense I don’t need, but I don’t want to risk any damage to the piece.
When I’m halfway there, my phone rings. It’s Nicky.
“Is everything okay?” she asks.
“Yes, why?”
“I sent you a bunch of texts that you haven’t answered,” she says, a plaintiveness in her voice.
I sigh. “Sorry. I’ve been rushing to get a collage to the gallery and I haven’t looked at my phone in hours.”
“That’s okay, I’ve just been in suspense. How did it go today with the lawyer?”
It isn’t until she says the wordlawyerthat I even remember telling her about the inheritance—because I’d tried to wipe our last conversation from my mind.
“Oh,” I say. “Well, it turns out I actually did know the guy, but it was years ago, so that’s why his name didn’t ring a bell at first.”
“And did he really leave you something in his will?”
I adore my baby sister, and occasionally even confide in her, but right then I decide not to reveal the facts of the inheritance. For starters, I’m afraid that if I so much asraisethe subject, it could jinx something that already feels as fragile as a robin’s egg. I also don’t trust her not to spill to our mother. I know Nicky means well, but Margo Severson is a master at prying top-secret information from her before my sister even knows what’s happening.
“Yeah, but only a small stipend,” I lie. “It turns out this guy was into supporting emerging artists, kind of a benefactor thing.”
“Wow, that’s great. Is it enough money to make a difference?”
“It’s not clear yet. I’m waiting to hear more. But, hey, don’t sayanything to Mom, okay? I’m going to hold off telling her until I know more.”
Actually, I can’t imagineevertelling my mother—because she’d probably decide I didn’t deserve any kind of glorious windfall from the universe.
“Uh, okay,” Nicky says, sounding a little wary. “And, oh, today went good, by the way. We got almost everything for the tag sale stickered and into the garage, and we’ll just move it outside on Saturday.”
The wordstag salemake my stomach churn, stirring up all the resentment I’ve experienced since I learned about it. I’m annoyed that she brought it up again, but I remind myself that Nicky is such a Pollyanna, she probably thinks that if she just keeps pretending there’s nothing wrong, there won’t be.
“Great” is all I say.
“I grabbed some things for you, too. Like those bird prints that were hanging in the upstairs hall.”
My irritation dissolves a little with this news. The prints aren’t worth a lot of money, but I was obsessed with them as a kid, and some of my earliest sketches were attempts to replicate them.
“Thanks, Nicky. That was so sweet of you.”
“Want me to bring them when we come to your opening next week?”
“Hmm, I don’t think I’ll want to lug them home that night. Would you mind leaving them at Mom’s and I can pick them up when I’m there next?”
