Chapter Thirty-Two
Thirty-Two
Mary spent just a little under five minutes looking through the remainder of Betsy’s paintings that were being displayed inside that room – four extra pieces. They were all fantastic creations, but the one titled Reflection had truly grabbed her in a way that she wasn’t expecting it to.
Mary had always loved art, especially dark-themed paintings and drawings, but not because she was a connoisseur or understood a lot about the subject – on the contrary, Mary knew very little about art.
Her expertise came from the old tradition of looking at it.
She either liked it or she didn’t. It was that simple, but sometimes – and this was much rarer – she would get goosebumps, just like tonight, but tonight there was something else…
something that had never happened to her before.
As Mary looked at Betsy’s Reflection painting, she felt as if it was looking back at her.
There was so much in that piece that Mary could relate to.
There was no red-dot sticker next to it, which meant that the painting hadn’t been sold yet.
‘Yeah, I’m getting it,’ she said to herself with a firm nod, noting down the reference number.
Mary exited Betsy’s exhibition room, but as she got to the end of the corridor and turned left, she almost bumped into the gallery owner, the same man who had handed her a map of the exhibition at the front door.
‘Oh, hello,’ she said, with a smile. ‘I was just coming to find you.’
‘Oh, wonderful.’ His eyebrows arched at her. ‘Have you seen something you like?’
‘Yes, very much so.’
‘Great!’ He smiled back, showing perfectly aligned teeth.
‘I’m so glad that you found something to your liking.
If you give me just a minute, I’ll be right with you.
I’m just going into a room to mark a piece as sold and I’ll be right back.
’ He indicated down the corridor. ‘If you wait for me at the entrance to the exhibition, I’ll meet you there and we can finalize everything. ’
‘Will do.’
But as the man walked away from Mary, she didn’t move, instead, she followed him with her eyes. He walked past a room to his left before turning right and entering the same room that Mary had just walked out from.
‘Oh no, no, no.’ She rushed after him. As she got to the door, she saw the gallery owner pull a red-dot sticker from a booklet that he had brought with him and place it on the wall, right next to Reflection.
‘Oh no.’ She quickly caught up with him. ‘You’ve got to be kidding. This is the one I wanted. The one that I was just rushing to you to go purchase.’
‘Oh really?’ The man sounded truly sorry as he looked back at the painting for a couple of seconds.
‘It’s a magnificent piece. You’ve got great taste.
’ His lips stretched into a thin line as his head angled slightly left.
‘And I’m so sorry that you’ve missed it, but there are loads of other amazing pieces that are still available…
some in this very room. Isn’t there anything else that you’ve seen that you liked? ’
Mary shook her head. ‘Not as much as this one, really.’ She hadn’t had time to look at any other piece outside that room, but she made it sound like she had. ‘Are you sure this one’s gone?’ She gave the gallery owner her best ‘puppy eye’ look.
For the sake of politeness, the man checked the screen on the tablet that he had with him. ‘Yeah, this is the one.’ He nodded. ‘Reflection… room five… Betsy Fletcher.’ He then read out the same reference number that Mary had noted down moments earlier. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Can’t we maybe negotiate?’ Mary tried. ‘I can offer over the asking price. Would that work?’
The smile the man gave Mary was a courteous one.
‘Unfortunately, that’s not how it works in these sorts of exhibitions.
Tonight, it’s not an auction. Each piece has a set price tag attached to it, and that’s the price, not the highest bid.
Once the piece has been purchased, it’s gone.
We keep them on the walls so that everyone can still appreciate them, but it’s not available for purchase anymore. ’
Mary pressed her lips together, her puppy eyes still in place.
‘If you want,’ the gallery owner said, being sympathetic to Mary’s frustration, ‘I can introduce you to the artist, Betsy Fletcher. She might have something similar in her studio, or you can commission something from her. I’m sure that she’ll be ever so happy to oblige.’
‘I know Betsy,’ Mary replied. ‘She was the one who invited me over tonight.’
‘Oh, that’s great,’ the gallery owner sounded truly pleased. ‘Have you spoken to her about this piece?’
‘Not yet.’ A subtle but sad shake of the head.
‘You should.’ He indicated the room. ‘But she still has a few pieces available. Do have a look.’ He quickly consulted his watch. ‘Well, if you’d excuse me, I need to get back.’
‘How about if you introduce me to the person who bought the painting?’ Mary tried playing one last card. ‘Maybe I can negotiate directly with the buyer.’
The man paused and turned to face Mary. ‘Sorry, I didn’t catch your name earlier.’
‘Mary.’
‘I’m Harvey Steiner. It’s a pleasure to meet you.’ He tucked his lips in for a split second. ‘I can see that you really want that piece.’
Mary nodded once. ‘I do.’
‘I can also see that you’re not very familiar with how exhibitions or art galleries work.
’ His tone was explanatory without sounding condescending.
‘Unfortunately, no gallery owner, auctioneer, art broker, salesperson… whoever… reveals the names of their buyers. If we did, we wouldn’t have a business.
Believe me. Art is a very private matter to collectors.
’ He checked the time again. ‘There’s still around ten minutes before we close and there are so many amazing art pieces still available.
Just look around, maybe you can find something else you like, or if you come visit us during regular hours, I’ll gladly show you our vast portfolio of artists.
You might find something you like then, but in regards to the “Reflection” piece, unfortunately it’s gone. ’
Mary could see that Steiner was being as diplomatic as he could.
As he walked away, Mary returned to the room to check Betsy’s remaining pieces. Out of the five that were being displayed that evening, only two were still available.
Mary paused in front of the one that she liked the most out of those two – an 18 by 12 inches, unframed, oil-on-canvas portrait of a brunette woman.
The woman had her hands up, almost to her face, but not quite.
They were cupped together just by her chin, as if she was about to drink water from an open tap…
but there was no water. That wasn’t the reason why her hands were cupped together beneath her chin.
They were there to try to collect the pieces of her own face that were dropping off like broken shards of glass. The painting was titled Fragmented.
‘It seems like you really like this room.’
The man’s voice came from Mary’s left, catching her a little off guard.
The surprise made her blink once, before turning to face the same man who, a few minutes earlier, had tried and failed to see any veils of darkness together with her.
Mary blinked again before her lips parted, as if she was about to say something, but no words came out.
All she did was study his face – the contour of his chin, the outline of his lips, the shape of his eyes… all of it.
It took only a couple of seconds for the silent ‘facing each other’ situation to become a little awkward.
‘Did you…’ his right index finger pointed to the piece that they were both looking at earlier. ‘Manage to finally see any veils of darkness over there?’ The question had clearly been asked because due to Mary’s hesitation, the man thought that she probably couldn’t remember who he was.
Mary finally smiled as she shook her head. ‘No, I gave up.’ And that was it – no follow up – she simply went quiet again, and just like that, they were right back to the awkward ‘facing each other’ situation.
The man paused for an instant, as if not sure of what to do next.
His eyes dropped to the floor for a split second before darting away from Mary, a clear giveaway that he had interpreted Mary’s short answer as a sign that she had no intentions of having a conversation with a total stranger, and her silence was a hint for him to leave her alone – and that was exactly what he was about to do when Mary surprised him.
‘I’m Mary, by the way,’ she said, offering her hand and a new smile that was shy, but inviting.
The man smiled back as he reached out for her hand. ‘I’m Thomas. It’s a pleasure to meet you.’
His handshake was firm, confident, but not in a businesslike way.
Mary’s eyes, once again, stayed on Thomas’ face for longer than she had intended, but this time, her forehead creased into a slight frown.
‘Do…’ Thomas gently touched his own face with the tips of his fingers. ‘Do I have something on my face?’
‘No,’ Mary replied. ‘Not at all… it’s just that you don’t look like a Thomas.’
It was Thomas’ turn to frown. ‘Don’t I?’ The frown was followed by a half smile. ‘What would you say that I look like then?’
‘I don’t know,’ Mary returned the smile. ‘A Maximilian… or maybe an Ambrose?’
Thomas laughed, but paused a second or two later, as Mary held on to her poker face. ‘What? You’re serious? Ambrose? Really?’
Mary couldn’t hold it any longer. The surprise in Thomas’ face caused her to burst out into laughter.
There was a small delay before Thomas followed suit. ‘Damn! You really had me there. I thought you were serious.’
‘When I was a young girl, in school,’ Mary explained, ‘I had a teacher called Thomas… and you look nothing like him. Now, every time I hear the name Thomas, that’s the image that forms in my mind. That’s why I said you don’t look like a Thomas. I meant no offense.’