Page 34 of For the Love of Art

“Thank you,”

“This space is yours, so you have somewhere quiet to catalog, meet with artists, and research.”

I smiled when I saw the laptop already had my name but stopped when I saw it had my full name. I hated that Watts followed me everywhere—a constant reminder of what I’d lost.

“Something wrong?”

“No.” I met his eyes. “Everything is perfect. This is great.”

“Good.”

“Tell me where you want me to start.”

Nathan caught me up at where we were with his sister’s art opening- the first one for this gallery. Holding an art opening was a huge undertaking, only made more terrifying by the fact that my boss deeply cared about the artist.

It was clear Maggie wasn’t a stickler for organization. Her cataloging left much to be desired, and I wondered if it was because she wanted to be on the floor to catch a glimpse of Nathan whenever he decided to walk on it.

“What a mess,” I mumbled.

The phone in my office rang. I looked down at the ID: Main Gallery.

“This is Isla,” I said into the receiver, continuing to work on my computer.

“I have a call for you,” Dori’s midwestern accent was very distinct.

“Transfer it through.”

I figured it was Lianne or Frankie checking on me in the most annoying way they could think— calling the gallery.

Unfortunately the smile on my face and excitement in my belly to tell them how I was killing it on the first day was quickly doused when I heard, “Good morning, Isla,” come from my lawyer’s voice.

My entire body deflated.

“Hi, Lindsay.”

“I tried to call your cellphone, but there was no answer, so I called your place of employment, but they told me you moved here. Congratulations on the new position.”

“Thanks.”

I leaned back in my chair.

“Anyway, I called because I received the divorce papers from Don’s lawyer.”

The small talk portion of our conversation was over. It was now down to business as usual, and I hated the business.

“Oh. Great,” I lied.

“I was going to courier them to your home address, but at the time we met, your address was still Don’s address. I figured I should double check where to send it,” she said.

“Oh. Right. I think here would be okay,” I said without really thinking through my answer. As always, whenever I talked about the divorce, my mind would be so consumed with intense feelings that I didn’t make logical choices.

“Perfect. I already know where you work, so my law clerk can get the address, and I’ll courier it to you.”

She said a quick goodbye and was off the phone before I uttered another word.

I looked at my watch. My enjoyment of my new job lasted a whole three hours before my shitbox of a life came in.

I pushed myself away from my desk. I needed air.