EPILOGUE
Standing beside Anne’s painting “With Love,” Guy and Elizabeth greeted guests for the exclusive Anne Darcy Legacy of Light exhibit.
Laughter and music filled the electrified ambiance of the black-tie evening. Elizabeth couldn’t believe the elite crowd in the small salon had swelled to at least one hundred, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with barely room for the wait staff.
She grinned, then whispered. “I don’t think Wyn will have this same turnout, but you never know. A lot of his patrons and collectors are here tonight.”
“He certainly owes it to you. I daresay the fire department will close us down before the party really gets started with the auction.”
“Don’t worry about the building code. William is good friends with the Battalion Chief.”
“Of course he is!”
They stopped chatting and greeted several guests, new to the gallery. One had been trying to secure a Darcy painting for years to no avail.
“How are you feeling tonight, honey?” he asked when the visitors passed into the salon.
“Fabulous … and guilty for feeling this incredible, this blessed, this special.”
“Poppycock! You make it sound like happiness is a crime.”
“Just my happiness.”
“Oh, please, you murdered no one other than your demons.”
“Who are currently writhing and screaming about it, especially about the baby.”
“Good! Take your victory lap. You have a hot, billionaire husband who loves you more than humanly possible, and you’re going to be the most amazing mommy.”
Placing her hand on the small baby bump, she grinned. “The timing couldn’t be more perfect to show Anne’s work while little Annie is growing. She’ll have her namesake’s magnificent shoes to fill one day.”
“With William’s and your talent, you may have a Picasso.”
She gasped. “Bite your tongue!”
“Okay, then another Mary Cassatt.”
“Much better.”
He laughed. “Are we selling the entire Darcy collection?”
“Hardly. After Gigi selected her pieces, we chose paintings for the townhouse and later for Annie when she grows up.”
Again, they stopped to greet visitors.
“You’ve created quite the ambiance. Love the choice of music,” a visitor said.
“Oh! Thank you! I curated a playlist that truly embodies Anne Darcy’s soulful energy. This particular Carole King song, ‘Tapestry,’ was my mother-in-law’s favorite.”
The woman knit her brow, looking at her sideways.
“Anne Darcy was my mother-in-law,” she clarified. Gosh, it felt magnificent to say that.
“You must be so proud.”
“More than anyone can imagine, except, of course, for my husband and his sister.”
“So, you’re the lucky girl who captured New York City’s most sought-after bachelor?”
“I am lucky! We married in August and are expecting in March.” She beamed.
“Congratulations!” The woman held out her hand. “It’s lovely to meet you, Elizabeth. My name is Sky Chesterton, editorial writer for the New York Times Art & Design section.”
Ah, the woman who wrote the article about George. “Welcome, Sky! I’m so happy to meet you. May I introduce Mr. Guy Bernard, the founder of our little gallery? Without him, we never could have pulled this off.”
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Guy. You’ve been an unheralded pillar in the community, but now you’ll have the spotlight you long deserve,” Sky said.
To her shock, Guy blushed. “Oooh, the honor is all mine, Ms. Chesterton! I adore your luminoso column. Please enjoy yourself tonight, and if you have any questions, come find me.”
“Thanks.” She looked around. “Frankly, I’m blown away by the turnout, and of course, this painting. Incredible,” the editor said, pointing to “With Love.”
“It’s my personal favorite. You are right, the attendance is overwhelming, but … expected. Anne’s work is highly sought after,” she said, filled with pride.
“Indeed. Is your husband here? I’d like to congratulate him as well and give him an update on a follow-up piece coming out at the end of the month.”
She suspected the article was about George’s indictment and the subsequent civil suits filed by multiple art collectors.
Guy continued to greet guests as they moved out of the way.
“William should be arriving shortly. Something important came up at the last minute that he couldn’t get out of,” she said.
“Well, I’ll enjoy myself and keep my eyes peeled.”
Just then, Gigi—looking smashing in a black sheath and stilettos—squeezed through the A-List crowd congregated near the door.
“Gigi!” she exclaimed. “Sky, this is my sister-in-law, Georgiana Darcy. Gigi, Sky Chesterton is the editor for the Times Art & Design section.”
The two women shook hands like old friends. “We know each other,” Gigi said.
“Gigi, congratulations on the success of your mother’s showing.”
“Thank you, Sky. I’m super happy you could attend.”
“That’s right, William mentioned you’re on the foundation board,” she said to Sky.
“Yes, but, also …” Gigi leaned toward her ear, whispering, “Sky interviewed me for the article about George. I helped her take him down, and together we visited a police detective.”
Although shocked, she forced a grin, but didn’t verbally reply, just squeezed Gigi’s hand in support.
The editor winked at them, as though she knew her own relationship with George, then turned to Gigi. “I also hear congratulations are in order on your acceptance into American Chamber.”
Gigi shivered. “Pinch me! I can’t believe it, but honestly, I think I’m more excited about my new roles with the foundation and working with Elizabeth on student scholarships and showings. My mother would be really happy about that.”
Grinning, she said, “And I know she’d be so proud of all your accomplishments. You’re going to be stupendously wonderful at both!”
“I agree with Elizabeth, but I’m happy to assist in whatever you need for the gallery, the foundation, and I’ll be your cheerleading section, too. In fact, I may even attend my first ballet.”
“Thank you. It means a ton,” Gigi said. “I’m a lucky girl to have a sister and a cheerleader.”
“Well, I better mingle. Good luck tonight, ladies. I’m looking forward to telling New York what a fab gallery La Tempera is. You can expect big things after tonight’s exhibit.”
Absorbed into the crowd, Sky disappeared with Gigi hot on her heels, and Guy rejoined her.
“Well, Guy, what do you have say? Anything?”
He cleared his throat, voice cracking slightly. “My little dove, La Tempera has finally arrived,” he said with a swing and snap to his fingers. “Take that, Alberto-The-Snake!”
“You deserve it all, my mucho, mucho fabuloso friend,” she said.
“And look who we have here,” he said, eyes fixed on the doorway. “The man of the hour.”
Her heart skipped at the sight of a grinning William entering the salon. He looked amazing in a tux, but before she could kiss him, he stepped aside, revealing his important “task.”
“Daddy! What are you doing here?”
“Why, I came to support my daughter on her big night.”
She wanted to cry, wrapping her arms around his portly shape. “You flew out here for me?”
“Darlin’, I wish I could’ve come for your wedding, but I’m here now, and I’ll be back when my little mutton buster comes into the world, too.”
“Who are you kidding? You just wanted to get out of Laramie.”
“It’s time I start livin’ on my terms.” He looked around the crowded salon. “You put on quite a show, Ladybug,” he said.
“I couldn’t have done it without my partner, Guy. Guy this my father, Big Tom.”
“Ooo! Big Tom. Well, how do you do?” he said, holding out his hand.
“Any friend of Ladybug’s is a friend of Big Tom’s. Howdy.”
William lightly laughed, putting his arm around her, and she squeezed him tightly. “You’re so sly! Thank you, babe. I’m … that was so thoughtful of you.”
“You’re happy?”
“So happy.”
“Excuse us, Dad,” William said, slipping his hand into hers.
“There are cocktails and plenty of cowboys to talk to,” she added. “We’ll be right back!”
Leading her through the tight crowd to the office, William closed the door then swept her into his arms.
This kiss. Deep and provocative set her hormones into overdrive.
Coming up for air he panted. “I missed you, babe.”
“We were only apart for twelve hours,” she chuckled.
“That’s entirely too long. I’m making up for lost time.”
“Then how about a new marriage pact?”
Smoothing his hand over the baby, he said. “Never more than eight hours apart from my family.”
“You’ll be sick of us.”
“Never.” He held up his pinky. “I pinky promise.”
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