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He doesn’t say anything after that. Instead, he walks up to my balcony and leans on the railing, resting his chin on his hand, looking out the night sky with an unreadable expression on his youthful face.
I stay silent as I look at the piece. Whatever the child was thinking, it was probably because of the silence he can feel from the piece. But this isn’t entirely about sadness.
My fingers itch with the need to finish the painting as my memories resurface.
Not for the first time, I think to myself,I wish Dad was here to see this.
JENNIFER
“Papa! Surely you’re not being serious?” I protest, my mind abuzz with thoughts of countless deals and deadlines I’d be missing. “I have work piled up. I can’t justleavefor Italy.”
“Of course you can! This is work, too. And you’ll be generously compensated, Jenny. Don’t worry about that!”
I pull back, still doubtful about my father’s plan. “But why do I need to convince Ren? Can’t he just fly over and talk?”
He laughs before saying, “For an artist who’s never shown himself in public, I doubt he’ll simply ‘fly over and talk.’”
“We don’t even know what he looks like?” I exclaim. “Papa, are you sure he’s worth the trouble?”
He nods. “He is, Jenny. Ren’s piece is the equivalent of Johannes Vermeer’sThe Concert.”
My mouth hangs open at the mention of a highly prized piece.
“And you’re my best bet for this. I trust no one butyou to make this deal for me, sweetie. None of my other subordinates are as assertive and determined as you. On top of that, you’re not easily emotionally swayed. You can take whatever excuse Ren throws at you.”
I sigh, still dumbfounded he compared this mysterious artist to someone as highly acclaimed as Vermeer. Now I’m curious as towhothis Ren person is.
“Before I agree, I’d like to know more about the specifics of the project, Papa,” I argue, not letting him get to me easily. “What am I getting into? How will I find, let alone, talk to this artist? What are the terms for our negotiations?”
“Relax, Jenny, you already sound more excited than I am,” Papa jokes, taking out a file case and sliding it over to me.
“Everything you’ll need to know and more is there. You can read them on the plane. As for other matters, shall we discuss them at our scheduled dinner time?”
I shake my head, knowing I wouldn’t be able to focus on my dinner anymore.
“No, Papa. We should cancel dinner.” I take a quick look at the report, and the sales projections make my eyebrows shoot up in question.
“Thisis how much we’re selling it for?” I ask incredulously.
Papa nods. “That’s how I know you won’t take no for an answer from Ren.” He leans over his desk and presses his hands on top of it, saying, “This piece could sell for billions of euro, and I’m not about to lose it when we have the chance.”
There’s a shift in the air when Papa holds my gaze, and I look back at the projected price for the piece, perturbed at how far he’s willing to bet on it. At the back of my head, an annoying feeling kicks in. Why on earth doesn’t Ren want to sell his painting if it could potentially make him live off of riches for years.
“Okay, fine. I’ll travel to Italy for this,” I concede, rubbing my temples. There is simply no stopping my father when he gets invested in an art piece, and this is undoubtedly something he’s been dying to get his hands on.
The mystery around this Ren person is making me feel excited about this entire endeavor all of a sudden, and I can’t help but think about how our meeting will go once I finally lay my eyes on him.
“That’s perfect!” Papa exclaims, grinning as he claps his hands together.
“I expect that I will be compensated properly?”
“I already promised you, didn’t I?” His smile fades when he continues, “Now, I expect you to make the saleimmediately.”
“I understand. Where will I find him?”
“I believe the details of his neighborhood are also in those papers.”
“Alright. So I just have to talk to this Ren person, strike a deal, and leave with the painting?”
