“It wasn’t always like this,” Daisy says, more to Becs than to me. “For someone like Max, someone ambitious and so great at what he does, the town can have its limits.”
My defensive mode thaws, and Daisy smiles in a way that doesn’t quite meet her eyes.
“Not so limiting anymore,” Becs says. “So, tell me all about this pop-up.”
Daisy gives her a tour around the barn while I explain the vision. Anytime I speak, Daze looks distracted—like she’s listening to me but her mind is elsewhere—and then she leaps back into business talk.
I can’t match that dedication. Any time she gives her attention to Becs, my focus trails up her legs, all the way to the fraying, stringy ends of her shorts.
“Sunset here’s something else,” Daisy says. “We’re able to catch the last bits of light splashing against the mountains over there, and then it’s cotton candy skies ’til the stars come out.”
“The setting is its own art piece. And then to have a museum here? Very meta.”
“We’ve got advertising, a fundraiser, some blog features, and an upcoming interview.” I glance at Daisy and give her an encouraging smile because I know she’s nervous about being on camera. “We haven’t sorted out specifics, but you’d likely have this corner here.”
I rattle off a list of other artists I’ve been in talks with—some bigger names than others—and Becs nods and offers some additional suggestions.
“Also.” Daisy clears her throat. “Also, I have some artists to recommend.”
“Great.” I worry she might overestimate my reach and propose someone unattainable, but I like that she’s done research. “Who were you thinking?”
“They’re locals.”
I stall for a beat. Holding a spot for someone in the area had crossed my mind, but well-known artists remain my priority. People with a bigger following will mean more to Tate and set Daisy up for months of packed reservations. Besides, artists of Becs’s caliber don’t want to fight for placement with someone who makes air-dry clay toothpick holders in the shape of a sun.
“It’s a great idea,” I say, letting her down gently, “but I’m not sure that’s the right direction for what we’re creating.”
“I like it,” Becs says, nodding. “You could call the pop-up…Here and There.”
“OrNear and Far,” Daisy says, and Becs gasps.
“Oh, that’s good. Better watch out,” she says to me, a thumb hooked toward Daisy. “She might take your job.”
“We should try to save as much space as we can for artists on the list,” I say. “Which is why we’re all here in the first place.”
This chat has gone completely off-track, and my eyes widen in Daisy’s direction, as if I can communicate through unseen forces.Trust me. She responds with a subtle eye roll—she really shouldn’t look that pretty when she’s giving me attitude—and I invite Becs back into the conversation, showing her around before she departs.
The second the tires from Becs’s rental car hit the road and a cloud of earthy debris kicks up in her wake, Daisy turns to me. “Becs thought it was a good idea.”
“It is, but not for this.”
“Why?”
“I’ve been thinking about who we’ll have in this show since day one. The whole thing is a balancing act of who will draw in a big crowd, who’s right for the pop-up, who’s available…I have a list a mile long of dream artists, and they’re the priority.”
“What about my list?”
“I didn’t know you had a list.”
“Well, now you do.” She shrugs again. “This is our project, and we can change it or add to it.”
“Sure.” Although Daisy threw me a curveball, we’re in this together, and her ideas matter. “But if we open the floodgates for artists in Harlow to claim a spot, that looks more—”
“Bumfuck, California?”
“Hey.” I step forward, wishing that comment had never come up—wishing that I’d never said it in the first place, all those years ago. “That was shitty of me.” Her face falls to the ground, so I cup her chin and meet her gaze. “I was dumb and young and said whatever for a laugh.” My attention darts to her mouth for a nanosecond. “I just want us to have the best chance at success here, and I know how artists think. If—”
Daisy doesn’t stick around to hear what I have to say; instead, she breaks the connection, walks away, and I instinctively follow. The sunset has painted the sky a stunning combination of rose and lilac—a bouquet strewn across the sky. A sliver of the moon pokes out from behind a cloud, and a smattering of stars dot the multicolored blanket above.
