Chapter 38
THIRTY-EIGHT
Juniper
New York couldn’t be more different than Star Falls. And yet, somehow, it still feels like home. Fisher was right about everyone belonging in New York. There’s an energy that makes me feel like there’s a place for Riley and me here.
Fisher. God, I miss him. I close my eyes in a long blink in a futile attempt to wipe him from my thoughts.
Riley squeezes my hand a little tighter as people come toward us on the sidewalk of Park Avenue. “There’s just so many people!”
I laugh. That’s an understatement. “You’re right. A little more than Star Falls, right?”
I made sure our hotel is within walking distance of Radio City Music Hall and Grace’s gallery.
I didn’t want to negotiate the subway for the first time with Riley.
I’m sure it would have been fine, but I wasn’t going to take any chances with my daughter.
Yes, I want her to fly, but that doesn’t mean I want her to break her wings trying.
“Yeah. A lot more,” she says. “And it really smells bad, Mom.”
I laugh. “I can’t argue with that.”
“But it’s cool.” She gazes up as we come to a stop at the crossing at 59th Street. “The buildings are so tall. They block out the sky. It looks even more New York than in the movies.”
As ever, my daughter knows exactly how to encapsulate a feeling. “I like that. I agree, it’s more New York than it is in the movies.”
“Can we go to the top of the Empire State Building?” she asks.
We’re not here for long. Just two nights and one full day. First, we’re stopping at Grace Astor Fine Art to meet with Grace. She seemed really pleased to hear from me, and when I said I was coming to New York, she said she’d love to meet.
It’s not that she’d ever been cold or unenthusiastic about my work.
The opposite, in fact. It’s just that reaching out to her and hearing how excited she seemed gave me…
confidence. Maybe she really saw something in me.
It’s not like Riley and I can come to New York on a regular basis, but maybe there’s some kind of way where she could help me get my art seen by more people.
Like Mom said, I’ve got nothing to lose by going to see her.
“We’re going to the gallery first.”
“But not the Met?”
“No, this is to a gallery of a friend of—” I nearly say Fisher’s name but I stop myself just in time.
“Of mine. She wanted me to stop by if I was ever in New York. Then I thought we could go through the park on our way to the Met and…” I haven’t had a chance to check the price of going to the top of the Empire State Building, but I bet it’s not cheap.
The tickets to the Met are expensive, and Riley said she really wanted to go together, but maybe she’s humoring me.
Before bed, I used to talk to her about the paintings in that museum like I used to work there.
“Oh yeah, I definitely want to go through Central Park. And definitely want to go to the Met with you. I’ll be right there with you when your dream comes true, Mama.”
“You will?” I ask her.
“You always say it’s your dream to go to the Met. And today you get to go.”
“But if you want to go up the Empire State Building, I can check the price of tickets.” I should have thought about it before now. Maybe if I’d booked them earlier, I might have gotten them cheaper.
“I want to go to the Met more than I want to go up the Empire State Building.”
“Really?” I ask.
She nods her head.
“Are you sure, because, like you said, the Met is my dream, not yours.”
“I’m sure. I can see the Empire State Building from the outside anyway.
My dream is coming to New York and seeing Vivian Cross in concert.
I’m literally having two dreams come true in one day!
And I want your dream to come true, too.
And I also really, really want to go to the Met.
Do you think we can get a selfie outside—the two of us? ”
“I think we can arrange that.” I can’t help but let my mind wander to what might have happened if we’d have come with Fisher when he’d asked us.
He said he’d take us to the Met. I still miss him like he left Star Falls two days ago.
It doesn’t make any sense. He wasn’t in town long enough for me to feel like I do.
It’s like he took a part of me with him when he left, and I can’t function properly without it.
We come to another crossing and I pull out my phone with the screenshot of the gallery’s address. “I think this is it. Except I don’t know which part of the street it’s on. Let me pull it up on a map.”
We stand on the corner of the street as I try to figure out which direction we’re heading. “Ahh, it’s right,” I say. “Just down here.” I scoop up Riley’s hand again. “You think you’ll be okay looking at the art while I talk to Grace?”
“Sure,” she says. “I’ll be even better if you give me your phone.”
“Not happening.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“I promise I’ll be really good, Mom. I won’t—”
“It’s not happening, Riley. The gallery will be full of beautiful art, and I brought your book. If you finish looking at the art, you can read.”
“You did?” Her eyes light up like I just told her she could eat candy all day. “I didn’t know that.”
I pat my handbag and chuckle to myself at her excitement about reading. Let’s hope it stays like that.
“I see the sign,” she says as we continue up the street.
My stomach flips as I see where Riley’s pointing across the street at a simple white sign with black lettering. This is it. I’m in New York. About to talk to a gallery owner about my paintings.
The door is all glass, but when I try to enter it, it doesn’t open. My heart starts to race. Did I get the wrong time? The wrong day? Has she changed her mind and decided to keep the place closed to avoid me.
“You need to ring the bell,” Riley says, as she presses the buzzer on the doorframe. “It’s for security,” she says, sagely.
Grace appears in a few seconds, beaming at us both as she approaches the door.
“She’s really pretty,” Riley mutters.
“Yeah. She really is.”
“Riley, Juniper!” Grace says as she opens the door. “Thank you so much for coming. How is your first trip to New York?”
“Awesome,” says Riley.
“Awesome is good,” Grace says. “And you’re going to see Vivian Cross tonight, I hear?”
Riley nods. “She’s my favorite singer,” she says.
“Mine too,” Grace says, offering her a high five.
“Riley’s brought her book so we can talk.”
“Great,” Grace says. “My assistant has Connect 4 in the back if you’re interested? I’m warning you though, she always beats me.”
Riley grins. “I like that game.”
“Good,” Grace says. “Tanya, come and meet Riley.” She turns to me. “She’ll be perfectly safe. The door is locked, and if we get anyone in the gallery, Tanya can bring her in to sit with us, if you’d prefer.”
“Thank you.”
“Tanya, show Riley around the gallery. If she wants, she can read her book in the chair over there. That way she can see us while we’re in my office. Or you two can play Connect 4.”
“Got it. Gallery tour first?” Tanya asks.
Riley glances at me and then nods.
“I know what a worry it can be. When I bring my children into the city, I always get nervous, even though I’ve lived here my entire life. Anyway, enough about me. Come on back. I hope you don’t mind, but I invited a friend of mine to join us.”
My breath catches in my chest, and I brace myself. She’s told Fisher I’m here. I’m going to see him. I won’t be able to hold it together.
“She’s an agent,” she says. “I think you might like her.”
I grin at Grace like I haven’t just done an emotional loop the loop. Okay, so not Fisher. That’s good, isn’t it? Good that I won’t see him. Good that the door is still firmly closed. That’s how it should be. How it has to be.
I follow Grace to the glass office at the back of the gallery. It doesn’t seem like much of an office to me. Just a room with a table and four chairs. And a tall blonde woman in a white suit.
She smiles as Grace opens the door. “Juniper French? I’m Rachel Grint.” We shake hands, and I try not to feel like the country bumpkin I so clearly am. I’m in jeans and a white shirt. I’m wearing sneakers and big panties. I bet these women don’t own a pair of sneakers. Or waist-high underwear.
“I’m very excited about your work,” Rachel says, as we all take a seat around the table.
Grace guides me to the seat opposite the window, and I relax slightly because I can see Riley chatting away to Tanya as they both look at one of the paintings.
“Grace has shown me some pictures, and then of course I’ve taken a look at your website. You’re very talented.”
“Thank you,” I say. “I never made it to art school or anything though. I don’t know if that means people aren’t going to like my work or—”
“Art school isn’t a requirement to produce thoughtful, beautiful work. You’ve proven that. Like I said, you’re very talented.”
I smile. “Thank you.”
“I’ve been talking to Rachel about you being based in Star Falls, and how your trips to New York would be infrequent. I presume any foreign travel would be even more difficult.”
“Foreign travel?” I say, like I didn’t hear completely clearly. “Why would I need to travel…”
“We can work around it,” Rachel says. “A number of my artists have shows in the Middle East and China. But we can figure this out. If that’s what you want. But you have to want it.”
“The Middle—yeah, no, that would be… impossible.”
My mind starts racing as I realize that when I told Grace before that making trips to New York would be impossible, it wasn’t because of Riley. It wasn’t because I didn’t have the money.
It was because I was scared.
Maybe my mom was right, and my fear was part of the reason I never went to art school in the first place. New York felt like a foreign country to me, just like China or the Middle East does now.
“I just want to take this one step at a time,” I say, correcting myself.