“Oh, you bad, sinful man,” Bee murmured, slapping my chest. “Taking advantage of him like that!”
I chuckled. “Just teasing the drama, my dear sister. It’s my job. The more he wants the PERL the more he’ll pay.”
She was shaking her head.
The frame of the double doors passed over us, which were propped open. Cool fall air rushed at my back, pushing out the hot air that was accumulating in the mid-sized space.
Having been a deli, the room was large enough for another hundred patrons, who were mingling inside. This part of the deli once held shelving for bread and condiments and was quite spacious for New York. I remembered it from when I was a kid. I wouldn’t be surprised if it turned into a bodega after this.
To the back and left, an L-shaped deli counter remained. The artist had painted it black and filled the glass displays with electric flickering candles. It was the only light in the space besides the light that hung above the painting, which was nestled to the right in a nook of the wall.
My height allowed me to tower over most, my eyes fixed on the piece as we neared. Each patron spent anywhere from a few seconds to several minutes inspecting the art.
Coming upon it, the color struck me first. The painting was deep warm tones except for one large slit of light turquoise and bright neon red through the center.
My eyebrows rose at that.
The colors, not for the first time, but in rarity, complemented each other well. This piece felt cohesive and pigmentary in a wayBluehadn’t, but that was the beauty of the artist’s story.
I read the brief statement on the wall to the right of the piece that discussed the ocular condition that only allowed them to see things in shades of gray. It was the same short and sweet paragraph they always displayed beside the piece.Above that was the name placard adorned with Henry’s red dot, indicating its sale.
“Doubt,”it read.
Eyes moving back to the art, I noted the deep groove in the turquoise paint. It made sense to me. I could see the doubt in the slash, but what the artist didn’t see was the doubt in the color, too.
I reached for my phone, snapped a pic and opened it in my photos app. Finding the edit feature, I turned down the saturation of the image until I was seeing it in black and white.
It was beautiful.
The once turquoise slash was now only a single shade different from the neon red that sat beside it. Darkness surrounded the two center shades as though doubt was the light that cut through the darkness.
Suddenly, doubt didn’t seem like such a negative emotion, instead bringing hope to an otherwise bleak canvas. Looking back at the piece in full color, the bland background transformed into warm swirls of color.
It was brilliant, and it was frustrating.
“Wow,” Bee began, looking at my screen and seeing what I was. “That’s amazing.”
My heart thudded in my chest, delicious adrenaline pushing into my veins. This was life, this moment I struggled to cling to—that brief second of realizing the human condition on display. It was here and gone—and I wanted more.
The group behind us was pressing us to move forward. I grasped Bee’s arm and hooked it with mine to guide her away. I nodded in the opposite direction, indicating my intendedexit. She nodded in agreement before we stepped away toward the back part of the deli counter. Looking up, my gaze landed on a set of very familiar blue eyes.
I paused for only a moment, not wanting to give away my shock at seeing her here. But there she was. Forcing myself on, Bee and I stepped toward the ghost that had haunted me for days. I tried my best to appear unaffected.
She leaned casually against the back wall, an empty champagne glass in one hand and a towel in the other. She was frozen in her action of drying it, staring back at me. Like a statue, she was perfectly still, as though hoping I wouldn’t notice her.
I could feel Betty eyeing me at my side, following my gaze before she hummed in recognition.
“Who’sthat?”she crooned in that annoying way only a sister could.
The woman’s eyes flitted to where Betty and I linked at the elbow. A flash of something crossed her face before it was gone again. She averted her gaze after a quick look back into my eyes. She was trying to avoid our electric connection, but her body betrayed her. Her cheeks blazed red. I couldn’t help but smirk at her obvious discomfort—her obviousadmiration.
I cleared my throat as we neared. “Well, look who it is.”
I stepped up to the counter dividing us, leaning my free arm along the top. There was a tray of drinks there. I grabbed a champagne, handing it to my sister before taking a bourbon for myself.
My sister glared daggers at me as she took a sip from her flute, eyes filled with questions. Bee did not appreciate being left out, and this was the second time in as many days that I’ddone so.
“Betty, this is one of our neighbors,” I filled in, drawing the neighbor’s gaze back to us.
