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And starting the repair work has actually been a nice distraction during a crazy week. Once Liam turned himself in, the media swarmed around the case. Mostly in the Boston area, but according to Nicky, who’s gotten over our text exchange, my mother and David also have been hounded at home.
I kept the appointment with Rebecca Rosenbaum, the attorney, the other day, and plan to use her if I have to, but I don’t think that’s going to be necessary. Bradley Kane called yesterday to say that Jane Whaley is no longer challenging my status as the beneficiary—the result, no doubt, of Liam’s efforts. It will take a while for the money to land in my account, but it’s coming. This means that after my exam at the fertility clinic, I can commit right away to the first IUI.
The idea makes me both nervous and giddy at the same time. I have no second thoughts, though. Not a single one.
The one thing I didn’t do this past week was drop by the police precinct and file a report about the vandalism. Since Caroline has called off the dogs, it seems best to let that sleeping dog lie.
Nell is at the front desk when I arrive at the gallery, reading a catalog. She looks up and smiles. I greet her and ask if Josh is around.
“He said he might not make it back by the time you got here, and that you could just leave the collage.... Oh wait, here he is.”
I turn and spot him through the plateglass window, striding toward the door, radiating his usual Upper-East-Side-meets-boho vibe. As he crosses the threshold into the gallery, I see he’s hand in hand with a blonde who can’t be more than twenty-five. She’s wearing tan pants, flared at the bottom, with an oversize, luxe-looking cable pullover, and she’s carrying a white purse with the wordDiorin big letters. Instagram-ready.
“Hey, Skyler, hi,” he says. He turns to the girl. “Kelly, why don’t you head back to the office for a few minutes. There’s an espresso machine in there. Just help yourself.”
She nods, looking a tiny bit unsure, and then disappears. Not a girlfriend. I guess. But they’re something.
Well, he wasn’t for me, anyway.
“Can I take a look?” he asks, returning his attention to me.
I still don’t love the idea of having to watch him react, but I’m less bothered than I was the last time I brought him a piece. As soon as I nod, he grabs a pair of scissors from the drawer of the reception desk and carefully removes the wrapping from the collage, then asks Nell to hold it while he steps back for a good look.
“Wow,” he says after a couple of seconds. “It’s fantastic, Skyler. Different, yes, but as riveting as the original.”
“Do you think your client will still want it?”
“Yeah, I’m sure of it.”
I feel my shoulders relax. Yes, the money will be great, tiding me over until the trust comes in, but this was also a test for me, a chance to see whether the collages could still work with changes.
“And how about the rest?” Josh asks, an eyebrow cocked. “Are you still thinking you’ll be able to repair them?”
“Yup. I’m going to be taking a break from graphic design jobs for a bit, so I’ll have the time.”
“Tell you what,” he says, flashing me one of his best sales-guy grins. “Let’s pick a date for the show and see if it helps spur you on.”
He goes behind the desk and taps a few keys on the computer.
“Does February twenty-seventh work for you?”
“Yeah, it does,” I say, not needing to check my calendar. “Three months should be enough time to get everything done.”
“Great. And we’ll do another party. I promise a crowd as big as we had last week.”
I almost tell him to skip the party, but then I bite my tongue. After speaking to Dan Lui last week, I found my thoughts pulling me back to the day we found Chloe—searching the house, searching the woods, standing at the edge of the ravine with him, Jamie, andthe two Dover police. I started to wonder if my anxiety about being in groups of five or more, which started after Chloe’s death, is somehow related to that moment, a post-traumatic reaction. And maybe knowing that could help me to finally conquer it. With the help of a good shrink, of course.
I bid farewell to Josh and Nell. It’s only three o’clock, so I decide to drop by my studio before going home. I’ll organize supplies for repairing the next collage on the list, and maybe sip a cup of tea at my worktable before heading home. Tonight’s the night I’m taking Mikoto out for a celebratory meal.
When I step off the elevator to my floor, I find that the corridor is quiet, though I can hear muffled conversation coming from behind one of the doors. As I approach my own studio door, my heart skips. There’s a piece of paper poking out from beneath it, clearly the edge of a note someone’s left for me.
I approach cautiously, both fear and anger spiking inside of me—has Caroline decided not to cease her efforts, after all? As soon as I unlock the door and flick on the light, I reach down for the note. My anxiety immediately quiets when I see that the name scrawled at the bottom is Alejandro’s.
I’d messaged him the other day to thank him for coming to the opening and apologize for the show being canceled. I told him, too, that his sketch helped me identity the man who’d been prowling around, and that the guy was no longer a threat. He wrote back saying he was glad he’d been able to help.
But the note has nothing to do with any of that.
I heard you in your studio earlier, but I must have missed you. I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner with me some night this week.
Is it simply a friendly offer? I wonder. No, it seems like he’s asking me on a date, something I never saw coming. From thelittle I know of him, Alejandro seems interesting and thoughtful, and from the glimpses I’ve gotten of his work, he’s clearly very talented. But why complicate my life any more than it already is at the moment?
But maybe... maybe there’s no harm in saying yes.
