“It’s time to head down to the lobby,” he says.
“The lobby?” I puzzle. “Why not go back to the Astor wing?”
“You’ll see.”
“What was this, a distraction or something?”
He winks. “Or something.”
We stride hand in hand toward the lobby, though we took a few pitstops along the way. One was a trip to a supply closet to see all the fuss Amantha and Val make about kissing in one, and the other a quick trip into the ladies’ room to pat down my hair and reapply my maroon lipstick.
I check the time and my heart rate spikes. “Holy crap, how long were we in there? The event starts soon! What if Amantha needed?—”
“We were in there long enough.”
I stomp my next step. “Why in the world do you keep saying things like that?”
He jerks a nod toward the museum entrance with a broad smile. “See for yourself.”
I follow his line of vision to a small crowd surrounding a TV monitor and a recently set up table. The corner of my eye glimpses Julia and Mr. Sanderson, but I’m zoned in on what’s playing on the screen.
It’s me.
Or rather, the inspiring compilation video Julia made of me.
There I am again, gazing in rapture at the heart-hand mural outside of Patterson’s Market. Me laughing and soaking in the vibrance of the city.
Seeing this video here, in this space full of artistic energy, makes emotion burn behind my eyes. Another wave of self-affection rolls over me, feeling a tad less foreign than last time. I break into a smile, rushing to Julia and throwing my arms around her.
I pull back with a laugh. “What is this?”
Julia beams at me, looking absolutely elegant in a simple dark green silk gown. It’s got capped sleeves and a square neckline, and her porcelain leg stretches a mile long through the modest slit. Teardrop pearl earrings swing in front of where she’s pinned back one side of her red bob with a jeweled clip. I’ve never seen her wear makeup, but the simple mascara and blush combo is doing wonders atop her dewy skin.
“Kendra asked me to put together a short social media campaign as kind of a trial run to see if upping the museum’s social media presence would be worth it. Not just for events. I’m doing a new follower giveaway. Guests can follow our account, engage with the post I already have running, and the winner gets a free museum membership.”
I gasp. “Julia! That’s great. Does that mean?—”
“If it goes well, she might offer me a permanent position in the marketing department!”
We squeal, and I tug her close and breathe in her honeyedcinnamon scent. “I’m so proud of you. But why am I the one on screen?” I laugh.
“That’s my marketing campaign—a behind the scenes spotlight of the curation staff. And since I already had your video…I mean, I hope it’s okay…” Julia’s blue eyes turn into a sea of worry, and I knock her lightly on the shoulder.
“Stop, Julia. I’m flattered. And touched.”
Brandon’s warm hand presses against the small of my back, and I turn into his embrace.
“We’re all proud of you, Kate,” he murmurs against my ear. “But there’s someone here who wants to meet you.” He moves aside to reveal a beautiful woman with startling green eyes and a bulky cast. She grins up at me from a wheelchair. In addition to having perfectly angled cheekbones like her son, her tan skin is creased where her laugh lines meet dimples.
Sudden nervousness flutters in my chest, but I can’t help smiling.
“You must be my daughter-in-law,” she says.
I laugh, and her grin pulls wider. The level of mischief is a carbon copy of Brandon’s. She motions me forward, and I bend to give her a gentle hug. Her wavy black hair brushes my cheek as I pull away.
“It’s nice to finally meet you,” I say. “I’m glad to see you out and about, Mrs. Roberts.”
“Call me Stacey, hon. And me too.” She puffs a laugh. “This prison warden over here”—she twists a pointed look at her son—“seems committed to keeping me locked up.”
