Which was loyalty the clients she worked with deserved.
But unfortunately, they had more problems than loyalty to think about.They were waiting for Parker-Roth, and yet at the same time standing in the middle of a busy section of the village, in black clothing in front of a darkened gallery.
He walked closer, trying to get a glimpse of…anything inside.
Unfortunately for him, the windows were blocked off internally by long, black drapes.
Great.
“What do we do?Knock?”
Jason laughed; the thought of treating the front door of a gallery like an apartment amused the crap out of him.“Don’t think that would work.It looks absolutely dead or empty or covered in there.”
“Covered?”
Jason nodded.“With sheets and all,” he replied.“He said three?”
Naomi nodded, going through her phone, presumably for notes because they’d actually spoken on the phone as opposed to texting.“He did.Should I text him?”
“Who?”
At the sound of the voice, not what he expected, Jason looked and saw a tall dude with the brightest blond hair he’d ever seen.“Hey,” he said.“You’re…?”
“Max Parker-Roth,” he said.“And you’re Jason Greenblatt.”
Jason nodded.“That I am.”
“Which means,” Parker-Roth continued, a grin on his face, “you’re Naomi…”
“Nachman,” she said, excitement clear in her voice; whether it was for the event or the prospect of getting another signed contract, Jason wasn’t sure.
“Yes,” she continued.“Thank you for meeting us so early.”
“It’s not a problem,” Parker-Roth said.“Just gets me down to the gallery a little bit earlier.Come on.Let’s go inside.We’ll talk, sign contracts, and I’ll give you the lay of the land.
And as Parker-Roth headed toward the front door of the gallery, Jason couldn’t help but notice the way Parker-Roth knocked—two long ones followed by one short, and he wondered if the building was a gallery or a frat house.
*
Naomi followed Jasoninto the gallery; this whole thing was already a bit outside of her comfort zone, but she needed to remember that this was a business expedition.Fascinating, but business.
“Thank you again for meeting us,” she said, doing her best to hide her discomfort in civility.
“Of course,” Max Parker-Roth said as he led them through the gallery.“I’ll eventually have to do prep work, but we need to talk a bit and sign contracts before we get to the nitty-gritty of the exhibition and its preparations.”
Which made sense.
Their destination was a small wooden table that sat in what seemed like the most sedate and calm room in the entire gallery space; it reminded her of an office break room, with books in a small shelf, a single-cup coffee maker, and all of the paraphernalia that went with it, and a tiny fridge that made more noise than Jason’s engine.
Which had to be some kind of gallery office.
Either way, the table was clean, and Parker-Roth gestured toward the top of the table.“Let’s sit and let me see the contract.”
Obliging, Naomi pulled out the binder of papers for the wedding, the folder that contained the contracts and her notes, passing the contract and some of the pages from the binder about the wedding venue to Parker-Roth, who sat across from her.
“Do you need a separate room for the bride and the groom?Are you going to need rooms for the bridal party and the groom’s party before the wedding?”
Naomi grinned.There were tons of different customs associated with Jewish weddings, and which, if any, were going to be used as part of the ceremony depended on the preferences of the bride and groom.
