Chapter 26 – James
JAMES
I’ll admit, some part of me still thought of Maura as an artistic amateur. A talented one, but still, it was her hobby, not her job.
Now, standing in the back of the Whitmer and taking it all in, I can see what a moron I was.
Maura’s art is serious and powerful. It gives me the same sense of awe I feel looking over a cliff at the ocean, or at photographs of space.
The feeling that the world is vast, and I am small—the earth is permanent, and will live on beyond me and my small worries.
It should make me afraid, confronting how powerless I am, but it doesn’t.
It’s freeing.
All the paintings are beautiful, but the centerpiece is my favorite.
It’s an abstract work, made of colors and shapes, but I recognize the storm it represents.
The one that swept over Maura and me as we stood on the balcony, drenching us and dragging us down to the floor of our apartment, overtaken by lust and loss and want.
She made it something unimaginably beautiful.
Once the crowd starts gathering for the auction, it’s easy to find Maura.
She’s lingering at the back, trying to avoid attention, even though her height and auburn hair make her unmistakable.
Her gray dress is loose and elegant, and I feel a pang of regret, wondering if she bought it hoping there would be a pregnancy bump to hide.
I move to stand just behind her. “Apologies for being late, wife.”
She spins on her heel, her eyes wide as she gazes up at me. “You came.”
My mouth tugs downward. Did she ever doubt I would? “I wouldn’t have missed it.”
She blinks up at me, and I thread my fingers through hers.
“I thought…” she trails off.
“I know, I’m late. I’m sorry. I was coming from a meeting across town, and a semi-truck trapped us on the highway. I had to call in a favor, leave my car on the side of the highway, and take an actual taxi cab to get here.”
“They still have those?”
“Apparently.”
“I hope you tipped well.”
“Always do.” I gesture to the crowd around us. “Excellent turn-out.”
Her lips tug upward. “It’s so crazy.”
“I’d like to start off the auction with the exceptional piece on the left,” the gallerist says from the podium. “A personal favorite of mine, The Thunderstorm. I’ll start the bidding at $5,000.”
Maura’s jaw is clenched tightly, her shoulders high and tense. For a moment, there’s silence.
“$5,000,” a woman in the front calls out.
“$5,200,” a male voice says.
“$5,400!”
The bids stack up quickly. I watch Maura’s face. Her jaw unclenches, but the color drains from her face. It’s like she was terrified her works wouldn’t sell, but now, she’s scared at how high the numbers go.
Once we cross $25,000, the bids start to slow down. When the first woman says “26,500,” the room is silent.
“Sold, to Ruth Thomas for $26,500,” the gallerist says.
The room fills with polite applause. Next to me, Maura mutters, “Holy shit.”
I bite back a laugh. She almost never curses, but her first big art sale brings it out of her.
“You better buckle up,” I murmur. “I have a feeling you might sell more than one painting tonight.”
Maura sets her hand on her stomach. “Why does the thought of that make me nauseous?”
“Because you don’t understand what your work is worth yet. Give it time. You’ll internalize it eventually.”
“But probably not tonight,” she sighs as the gallerist announces the next piece for sale.
The bidding only gets livelier from there, since the first painting sold was the smallest in the gallery. When the fourth painting to be auctioned sells for $60,000, Maura looks about ready to pass out. I find myself hovering closer behind her, just in case I need to catch her.
“The final piece being auctioned tonight is the center of the show,” the gallerist declares. “A painting you see behind me, Warm Front.”
There's a flurry of movement in the crowd. Clearly, there's going to be a lot of interest in this piece. In the front, I recognize Edmund Wu, a wealthy retired real estate scion known for his significant art collection. I’d be thrilled to see him bidding for any other one of Maura’s paintings.
Not this one.
Warm Front is mine.
Across the room, Nate gives me a nod. He’s standing by, waiting for me to text him when it’s time to bid, and how much.
I designated him as my proxy, since I trust him to keep his cool more than the others.
Ryan and Beau might jump too quickly, just out of excitement.
Luke would try to come up with a code that’s more complicated than it needs to be.
I’ll wait to bid, though. It’s not good strategy to jump in too enthusiastically out of the gate. Besides, I’m interested to see what the true market value of the painting is.
“We’ll start the bidding at $10,000.”
“$10,000!” Wu holds up his hand. His tone is neutral, but I can see the excitement in his expression.
“$12,000!” a female voice shouts out.
“$14,000,” Wu says.
Dozens of voices call out, driving the price up by thousands at a time.
Even Ryan gets in on the action, taking the opportunity to bid $69,000 and make me roll my eyes.
Bids only start slowing down once Wu and his female rival bring the price over $100,000.
I flash Nate two fingers, then five, and he nods.
“$125,000,” he calls out.
“Nate’s bidding?” Maura murmurs, sounding surprised.
“$150,000,” Wu counters.
Nate glances over at me and I raise two fingers. This time, Maura catches his look. It only takes her a moment to catch on as he calls out, “$170,000.”.
Maura whirls around to stare at me with wide eyes. “Are you insane?” she hisses through her teeth. I ignore her, focusing on Wu.
“$200,000!” he says.
A gasp goes through the room at that number, and even the gallerist’s eyes widen with surprise. Maura’s hand flies to her mouth in shock.
I shrug. Wu doesn’t seem to have come close to his lower limit, so I decide to skip ahead. Nate’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t hesitate. “Half a million.”
The crowd goes completely silent. Maura’s hand drops, revealing her paper-white complexion. If this goes on much longer, she’s liable to go into shock.
Wu glances back and meets my eyes. He’s smart enough to figure out the game. “$700,000,” he says.
I meet Nate’s eyes and make a fist with my left hand. “Are you sure?” he mouths to me, and I nod.
“One million dollars,” Nate says after a long moment.
“One million,” the gallerist echoes, stunned.
Wu sighs and nods at me, a gesture of defeat.
“Sold, to Nathaniel Walsh for one million dollars,” the gallerist echoes.
In the silent room, I hear Wu say quietly, “Well done, Keller.”
“Everything sold?” Maura says, gaping.
“Everything.” The gallerist beams at her.
“After the auction, buyers were like crabs in a bucket trying to crawl over each other to get their hands on the rest of your work. Of course, all the formal offers have to be approved before I can say we’re officially sold out.
But yes, every piece is marked as sold.”
The party is over, the lights bright in the Whitmer for the staff sweeping up. The only non-employees remaining are my wife and I.
Maura shakes her head. “This is insane, Sydney. I never expected—I mean, it’s crazy!”
“It’s not,” I add in a low voice.
“That’s right.” Sydney smiles at me. “Listen to your husband. You have real talent, Maura. I’m glad you found yourself a man who appreciates that without being threatened by it. I see that more often than not, I’m afraid.”
Maura smiles at me while Sydney continues.
“Maura will have some commission requests coming her way, and we should decide percentages if she wants to use the Whitmer as a go-between.”
“Good,” I say at the same time Maura blurts, “Commissions?”
“It’s nothing less than I expected.” Sydney pats Maura on the arm comfortingly. “Don’t worry about it for now. Just celebrate. Everything went well, and hopefully, we can put together another show in the future.”
“Okay,” Maura says. Then, apparently on impulse, she pulls Sydney into a hug. “Thank you.”
“You’re more than welcome. Now go enjoy the rest of your night while we clean up.”
Taking Maura’s hand, I lead her outside into the cool air. I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her against my side. Optics, for anyone watching. “It seems your show was a success, wife. Almost every piece sold.”
She laughs. “At ridiculous prices, too. I should have known you would skew the numbers in my favor.”
“How did I do that, exactly?”
“You probably went around to the buyers, hinting at how much you thought everything was worth. You know, using your business wiles to inflate the prices.”
“Impossible. I was regrettably late, which means I wasn’t able to use my business wiles on anyone.”
“You could have paid people to do it for you,” she points out. “Like you paid Nate to bid for the painting.”
I snort. “I didn’t pay Nate a dime. He’s too rich to need it.”
“You know what I mean. You know how to delegate.”
I tighten my hand around her waist, pulling her harder against me. “There’s only one piece where I interfered in the price, and that’s the one I bought. The rest was real demand.”
“Still. You didn’t have to buy Warm Front.”
I turn toward her, taking her chin in her hand. I tilt her face up and force her to meet my eyes. “That painting belongs on our wall. I wasn’t about to let anyone else have it.”
Her lips part, and something soft flashes across her expression.
I lower my head to brush my lips across hers. She softens against me, her body leaning into mine as she wraps her hands around my neck. Reluctantly, I pull away.
“Not yet,” I mutter. “I can’t do half the things I want to do here. I need my wife home and in my bed. Now.”