“This isn’t New York City,” Evander says.
“But I’m here. In one piece. Ready to do my job. It’s not a problem; I wasn’t late, just a little wet. If I can, I’d love to see the collection tonight.” Her eyes light up, and there’s a bounce to her when she says it.
“Yes, fine. Let’s get the papers signed.” I enter my office with them trailing behind me.
“Holy crap.” Raine blows past me.
7
RAINE
The Monet water lilies on his wall were painted after 1902. He started painting them in 1899 and painted them the rest of his life. But the painting in front of me isn’t one of the early ones. I’ve sat in front of the one at the Carnegie Museum in Pittsburgh for hours of my life. I’ve cried in front of a version of this painting. It gave me the strength to change my major from what my parents wanted to art history and curation when I knew my parents would be furious. It set me on a different trajectory in life.
Granted, if I’d finished my safe, boring-to-me major, I’d have had a job a long time ago. One with benefits and a nice salary that let me have an apartment with only one or two roommates.
But this painting—well, not this painting but one in a similar series—it changed me.
I take a few steps back and drop to the floor to look at it. That’s the thing with Monet’s works: they can be enjoyed in so many ways. From below the middle, it’s like you’re part ofthe painting. It’s my favorite way to take the whole thing in. But you can also stand back and have more of a scenic perspective. Then when you’re done with taking it in that way, you can study it up close. Examine each of the brush strokes. Marvel at the masterful use of colors. And here, there’s no guard telling me to back up. I could touch it.
Holy shit. I could touch it. Actually touch it. No, it’s not that Icouldtouch it, it’s that I should. As the curator for the collection, I will have to touch it. Take it down, photograph it. Catalog it.
So many things run through my brain at once. None of them are coming out.
“Miss Fischer, are you feeling okay? Are you ill?” Their voices circle behind me, and I shake my head.
“No, I’m good.” I stand up, my calves twitching. “Whoa.” I grab the side of the desk next to me. “I told you I’m a lightweight. A glass of wine and a sip of the Dragon Ale—guess that’s all it takes. But no, that’s not why I sat on the floor. I’m sorry; it was unprofessional of me. But this one of Monet’s Water Lilies—it’s similar to one of my favorite paintings in the whole world. Can you imagine coming through the door and your favorite thing in the whole world is there? And you weren’t expecting it? What’s your favorite thing?” I point to Evander.
“Flying,” he says.
“Well, that’s kind of hard to surprise you with. Can you think of something else?”
“Well then, 1950 Dragon Ale,” he says.
“Dragon Ale?” Kieren asks him.
“It was the first thing I could think of after flying.”
“Okay, well, what about you?” I ask Kieren.
“My little sister, Aisling.”
“Right, okay, so both of you picture Aisling”—I point toEvander—“holding a bottle of Dragon Ale. Wait, how old is she?”
“Younger than me. She’s at the academy—university. But grown,” Kieren says.
“Okay, that’s good. I thought that might be weird if she was a young child.” My hand rests on the back of the sofa.
But Evander’s shaking his head. “It’s no good. Aisling holding my favorite bottle of Dragon Ale. She’d make me do something awful to get it. She’s little, but she can be vicious to anyone but Keiren.”
“True. But it would be funny for the rest of us, though.” Kieren’s laughing, and when he does, his whole face lightens. I have to look away from my boss. Because that’s what he is, my incredibly handsome boss. A boss with one of Monet’s Water Lilies paintings in his office. My favorite quote from Monet is,“Everyone discusses my art and pretends to understand, as if it were necessary to understand, when it is simply necessary to love.”My boss doesn’t seem to know art, but he has love for his sister. I hope I can make him feel the same way about the masterpiece before him. I know a lot of wealthy people collect them for their monetary value. Art is so much more than an investment.
“But I see where you’re going. And it must have been a shock to your system,” Kieren says.
“Yes.” It’s taking every bit of strength to not run out of the room and text Wren. She knows what this means to me. And even on the other side of the planet, she’d understand.
“It’s obvious how much this job means to you,” Evander states.
“It does mean a lot.” But he has no idea. Really, I have no idea how I’m here. Why did they pick me out of what must have been thousands of applicants. My mother was right. Why me? Why me, indeed? But I’m just so grateful. I’mgoing to do the best job I’ve ever done. “I promise to do my best, and no more sitting on floors.”
