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“Listen,” Pearl said as she joined us. “I’ve been to my share of funerals, and I know that eating’s usually the last thing on your mind, but there’s a reason it’s a tradition to always have lots of food—you need to eat and keep your strength up.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
“Take a seat,” Logan said. “I’ll put together a plate for you.”
Pearl stepped over and gave me a hug, then Logan lead me into a nearby chair. The rest of the staff was at the long table packed with food. Though I wasn’t hungry myself, it made me happy to see all of them eating and chatting. Marta would’ve wanted it that way.
I spotted Roberto in the middle distance. He stood with his hands behind his back, his eyes scanning the scene—no idle time for him. I sprang out of my seat and hurried over to the food table, slipping through the crowd and putting together a quick plate. I made my way to Roberto and handed it over.
“Couldn’t have you just standing there watching all of us eat,” I said.
He allowed himself a small smile. “Gracias, Emily. And my condolences.”
I thanked him as I handed over the plate. On the way back to my seat, I noticed Marianne had her phone in her hand, and over and over would check the screen, a worried look on her face. I wasn’t normally one to pry, but with everything going on I wanted to be aware of anything out of the ordinary, not to mention if any of my friends were in peril.
“Hey!” I said, walking over to join her. “What’s up?”
“Huh?” Her eyes went wide, as if I’d interrupted her right in the middle of something. She fumbled with her phone, nearly dropping it on the ground.
I laughed, helping her steady herself. “You look a little worried. Something up?”
“No. I mean, yes. But I don’t want to bother anyone.”
Logan approached with my plate, placing his hand on my shoulder as I took the food from him.
“Everything OK over here?” he asked.
Marianne pursed her lips, as if not sure how to say what was on her mind.
“It’s… it’s huge!” She threw out her hands as she spoke, nearly tossing her phone into the sand.
“Easy, Mary-Moo,” Pearl said as she approached, having likely been drawn to the commotion. “Remember what I told you to do when you have something on your mind? Take a deep breath, close your eyes, and focus.”
“Right.” Marianne did as she was told. When she was ready, she opened her eyes. “There’s this gallery in New York City that likes my work! They’re really fancy, I think. They’re in a part of the city called Chelsea.”
“Thatisfancy,” Logan said. “Go on.”
“They sent me an email that said they found my art on my website and want to do a showing. I said yes! But they haven’t emailed me back yet. I keep checking because I’m worried they’ll change their mind.”
“Wait, you’ve got a gallery in Chelsea that wants to show your art? Mar, this ishuge!”
“I know!” she said, as if my words had made her even more nervous. “That’s why I’m scared that—,” Her phone chimed in her hand as she spoke. Marianne quickly turned her attention to the screen. “It’s them! And they sent dates they want me to come!”
My heart beat faster with excitement. Logan, calm and composed as ever, stuck out his hand for the phone. Marianne handed it over.
“The Fordham Gallery, I know this place,” he said. “I’ve actually been there for a showing. This is legit. Congratulations, sis.”
I couldn’t help myself. I let out a squeal of excitement, nearly launching my plate into the air as I came over to give her a hug. Pearl joined me, the two of us giving Marianne a big squeeze.
“They have a gala planned,” Logan said once the commotion died down, his eyes still on the screen. “They’re looking for some up-and-coming artists to show off to the art world in New York. Mar, if you present there and make an impression, you mighthave a career in this waiting for you. Only thing is, it’s in two days. We’d have to leave tomorrow.”
A couple of hours later, the memorial was over. Marta’s picture was hung in Marianne’s house in one of the hallways, and it did me good to know that there was always something I could look at to remember her by.
Pearl, Logan, Marianne, and I were in the small but cozy kitchen of Marianne’s place, music playing as we chatted about the trip ahead.
“Pearl, you’re coming, right?” Marianne asked.
“Kiddo, I’d love to, but someone’s got to stick around here and make sure this place keeps chugging along. Besides, I’m way better at home cooking for the staff than I am cramming my big ass into some fancy gown and going to a New York gallery party.”
