Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
J ane pushed open the gallery door, stepping into an airy space that felt like a war zone rather than the sanctuary of art it usually was. The room was generous in size, its floor-to-ceiling windows and overhead skylights usually offering an inviting luminescence. White walls, normally the quiet backdrop for vibrant art, today seemed to amplify the tension in the room. At opposite ends stood two artists, each guarding their exhibit as if it were a fortress. Both wore expressions sharp enough to etch glass. Maxi, her long white hair twisted into a messy bun, was caught in the crossfire, standing between them. Her arms moved erratically, punctuating the air as she attempted—unsuccessfully, it appeared—to play mediator.
“What on earth is going on?” Jane said, slipping in next to Maxi.
Maxi’s expression was a mix of relief and exasperation. “Oh, thank heavens you’re here! Meet Gerard, a fine sculptor specializing in blending Native American art with digital installations. And this is Priya, an incredible painter who merges classical Renaissance techniques with Bollywood themes.”
Jane took in the exhibits. Gerard’s space was filled with intricate sculptures that incorporated digital elements—like a totem pole that transformed into a virtual waterfall via a projection. On Priya’s side, richly colored canvases showcased sumptuous Renaissance-styled portraits in saris and turbans, adorned with flashy Bollywood jewelry.
“The problem,” Maxi sighed, “is that they both want the centerpiece spot for their exhibit, and neither will budge.”
“I was here first,” Gerard grumbled, arms crossed. “My installation needs the central space for the digital projections to work correctly.”
“And I should have the central spot,” Priya retorted, “because the lighting there will highlight the jewel tones in my paintings!”
Jane looked at Maxi. “They both have valid points. But why not try to see this as an opportunity?”
“An opportunity for what?” Maxi asked, clearly at her wits’ end.
“Working together maybe?” Jane threw a hopeful look at the two artists.
Gerard threw up his hands. “That’s it! I will not share my space with her primitive pieces!”
Priya shot back, “Primitive? At least my art has soul, not like your superficial pop art!”
“I’m leaving, Maxi. Make your choice,” Gerard huffed.
“And I’m taking my work with me,” Priya declared.
“In that case, I’m leaving first!” Gerard said, marching toward the door.
“No, I am!” Priya insisted, quickening her pace to beat him to it.
The two artists arrived at the gallery’s entrance simultaneously, both hands reaching for the doorknob. They glared at each other, stuck in a comedic deadlock, each refusing to let go. Finally, they pulled the door open and stormed out, shoulders bumping, both muttering under their breath.
Maxi sighed, brushing a stray lock of white hair from her forehead. “Well, that went well,” she said, the sarcasm dripping from each word.
Claire burst into the gallery, her eyes darting from the departing artists to Maxi and Jane. “I got your emergency text. What on earth is going on here?”
Maxi ran a hand over her messy white bun, looking utterly defeated. “Just a minor catastrophe. Those two artists couldn’t agree on exhibit space, and now they’ve both stormed off, threatening to pull their work.”
“Oh no!” Claire adjusted her auburn curls as she glanced back out the window.
Maxi sighed and flopped down onto a white cement cube that was supposed to hold a sculpture. “Those are the only two artists that I could find who had work that included a holiday theme with a cultural twist. Chandler is not going to be happy that I messed up my first time hosting a gallery event.”
“Don’t worry. We can fix this. Any chance we can get them back?” Claire asked.
Maxi shrugged, “I doubt it. Their egos are as big as their talent.”
Claire rolled her eyes. “Tell me about it. It’s not just artists, either. Restaurant owners too.”
“What do you mean?” Jane asked.
Claire sighed, taking a seat next to Maxi. “Coordinating the menu for Taste of the Town is like trying to organize a herd of cats. Everyone wants their dish to shine, but nobody wants to overlap flavors or types of cuisine. There’s an unspoken rivalry among some of the restaurant owners—you can cut the tension with a knife. Or a fork, depending on the dish.”
Jane grinned mischievously. “Ah, rivalry among cooks. But I bet you and Rob are on the same page.”
Claire’s cheeks flushed a rosy hue. Earlier in the year, she’d started dating Rob Bradford, who owned the bread store across the street from Sandcastles. “Rob and I are perfectly in sync, thank you very much.”
“And what’s going on with Beach Bones? Did you talk to Sandee?” Jane queried, glancing between Maxi and Claire. Claire had started a line of homemade dog biscuits in her bakery and named the line Beach Bones. Unfortunately, she’d discovered someone else was using the name. Even worse, it was her ex-husband’s new trophy wife, Sandee.
Claire shook her head, worry lines etching her forehead. “I don’t know what to do. I probably should just pick another name.”
Maxi’s eyes flared with indignation. “She can’t do that! That’s your brand, your hard work. You can’t let her take that too, Claire.”
“So you haven’t talked to her about it?” Jane asked.
Claire grimaced. “No, not yet. I’ve been avoiding the confrontation. It’s complicated, you know? Tammi said I might be making too much of it.”
Tammi was Claire’s grown daughter who was off at college. Jane wasn’t exactly sure where Tammi stood on the subject of Sandee. Tammi had only been a teen when the divorce had occurred. Claire had tried to shield her from the nastiness and never spoke badly of Peter because he was Tammi’s dad.
“Tammi might not see things the way we do,” Jane said.
Maxi huffed, “Well, you could always try to outsell her. I’ve seen Sandee’s business ventures; she has the attention span of a goldfish. She’ll lose interest and move on to the next shiny object soon enough.”
“I don’t know, Maxi. It’s a risky strategy. What if she doesn’t give up? What if she makes it her mission to dominate the dog biscuit market? I don’t really want any drama.”
Jane sighed. “It sounds like you have some tough decisions to make, Claire. But remember, you’re not alone. We’re here to support you, just like we’re all here to help Maxi with her gallery crisis.”
“Speaking of which,” Maxi interjected, “we still need to figure out what to do about these empty walls.”
“Sounds like we need a girls’ night out.” Jane wiggled her brows.
“Great idea!” Maxi pulled up the calendar on her phone. “We had a couples’ night last week, so the guys won’t feel left out. How about tomorrow night?”
“Sounds good to me.” Jane pulled out her phone. “I’ll send a text to Andie. Should we plan for six at Barnacle Billy’s?”