Chapter 18
ADELINE
Finally back at work, I felt like a person again rather than just a petri dish.
Amber was back too, wrangling the girls and their home-schooling schedule, and working hard to catch them up on what they’d missed.
The girls themselves were still a little sniffly, but otherwise back to creating their usual levels of pandemonium, which meant I was able to return to the gallery and resume my new life.
“You made it,” Debra, my coworker, cheered when I walked in. She was behind the front desk, preparing for a showcase that was coming up and looking like she was elbows-deep in paperwork. “You couldn’t have picked a better time to get back either.”
“You know, looking at all that paperwork is making me feel a bit woozy,” I teased as I slid out of my jacket. “Maybe I need to take a few more days.”
“Don’t you dare.” She shot me a playful glare before motioning vaguely around the gallery. “We need to rewrite the labels on some of these for the third time. Apparently, moody sounds better than somber.”
“Right.” I nodded, doing my best to look completely serious. “Of course. Naturally. Who even thought somber would work in the first place?”
She laughed. “That would be you and me, young lady. So hop to it. We also need to reorganize the display in the window and adjust the lighting. The artist feels we’re not accentuating the Traveler’s Journey enough.”
I sighed, unwound my scarf from around my neck, and hung it over the chairs beside hers along with my jacket. Then I got to work. Honestly, as angry as Lu had been when I’d left this morning, it was good to be back.
Art made sense to me. It didn’t demand explanations or require unnecessarily lengthy contracts or negotiations. Right now, this was the one part of my life where I felt utterly at ease and in control, and I slipped back into it easily, starting with the labels and then moving over to the display.
I was on my second cup of coffee, trying to ensure that the Traveler’s Journey was being lit exactly the way I would’ve liked it if it was mine, when I noticed Zach standing in front of the main piece being showcased.
So shocked that the sip I’d just taken nearly sprayed right back out, I just watched him for a minute while I tried to remember how my legs worked.
He had his hands in his pockets and his head was tilted slightly as he studied the painting like he was trying to understand it instead of just looking at it.
I smoothed my hands down the front of my skirt without really knowing why I was doing it, then walked over. “Are you interested in the piece?”
I kept my tone light and professional, and he smiled when he glanced at me. “Only if you get commission from the sale.”
“As it happens, I do,” I said, folding my arms loosely over my chest and trying to ignore how warm and tingly it made me feel that he’d even think of that. No one had cared about what I did—and didn’t—get in a very long time. “So you’re in luck.”
“Excellent,” he replied without skipping a beat. “Show me the most expensive piece in the gallery. Please.”
I arched an eyebrow at him. “You’re joking.”
“I’m not.”
“You don’t even like art, Zach.”
“I don’t understand art,” he corrected happily. “There’s a big difference. Just because I don’t understand it doesn’t mean it’s not a good investment.”
A quiet laugh slid out of me as I shook my head, but since I couldn’t argue, I nodded toward the display at the far end of the showroom. “Okay, then. Let’s go see it. Follow me.”
I led him further into the gallery, to one of the larger pieces we’d just had installed. It was bold and abstract, one of those paintings that made people nod thoughtfully while clearly having no idea what they were looking at.
“This is one of our highest-valued pieces at the moment. It’s called Life As We Don’t Know It,” I said. “The artist is a thought-provoking local who’s made a name for herself depicting life as she sees it.”
“Ugly?”
“Sometimes,” I replied, shrugging when he gave me a look like I knew he’d been joking, which I did, but that didn’t make my answer any less true.
“She’s trying to convey that people see different things even though they’re looking at the same picture.
She’s trying to show that things can be messy and chaotic, and seemingly not make any sense at all, and yet, there’s still a sense of beauty to it. ”
“You get all that from something that looks like someone put up a canvas and threw paint at it?”
“You don’t like this one, do you?”
He shrugged. “Like I said, I still don’t understand art. I truly don’t understand how someone looks at misshapen blobs and gets all that, but I do remember your preferred styles and I remember you liked looking at things that make no sense to me.”
Warmth spread through my chest all over again, so intensely that it nearly overwhelmed me this time. It suddenly felt like we’d stepped back in time and we were dating again, back when we’d finally gotten together after years of friendship and everything had been perfect. Easy. Natural.
“I feel like I should get it,” he said, interrupting my thoughts. “Why don’t I see what she’s trying to say with it?”
When I glanced back up at him, I saw that he’d turned back to the painting and was leaning slightly forward now, like maybe if he could just get closer, he’d finally make out what all the fuss was about.”
“You’re not supposed to, Zach,” I said. “That’s the point.”
He pursed his lips. “That’s a terrible system.”
“It’s art.”
“That’s not a defense.”
I laughed and shook my head. “You really haven’t changed.”
“Neither have you,” he said, and the warmth flared up again.
As I looked up at him, past the man he’d become, it was like I could still see the boy underneath.
Back to all the smiles, hugs, and everything else we’d shared, but most of all, it was like I could feel that old connection thrumming right beneath the surface, humming back to life in all the best ways possible.
He held my gaze for a second longer, but it was almost like I could see the switch flip somewhere deep inside him when his guards slid back up. He was still looking at me, but it was different now, his expression harder and more unreadable again.
“Alex has had the marriage contract drawn up,” he said. “I wanted to let you know that I’ll be going over everything with him tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
There was nothing else to say. He’d just dropped the words marriage contract into the middle of a conversation about art like it was just another piece to be discussed.
“I’ll sign, Zach. Whenever it’s ready, just have it sent over and I’ll sign,” I added then, feeling that creeping, familiar pressure building in my chest.
The sensation that said to get it over with before it got worse.
Zach narrowed his eyes at me, then abruptly shook his head. “No.”
“No?”
“No,” he repeated. “You’re not just signing whatever gets put in front of you.”
I frowned. “That’s sort of how this works.”
“Not this time.”
I folded my arms and averted my gaze, letting it drift back to the glorious mess on canvas that suddenly reminded me a lot more of my life right now than it had even just a minute ago.
“We don’t have to get cute about it, Zach.
I’m sure Alex has been more than fair and it’s not like I’ll be bringing in much except baggage, so I don’t have any bargaining power, do I? ”
Despite everything else, I wasn’t naive. I really did know how this worked and I knew that without my trust fund, my last name didn’t mean all that much. Not when my parents’ reputation was tarnished and I already had one failed marriage under my belt.
Plainly put, I wasn’t worth much anymore. The Westwoods were only doing this to acquire a third of the Morris Company. That was where my value lay for the purposes of this deal, and my grandfather would’ve made sure that everything was contractually buttoned up on that front.
The rest of it was just… the exchange. Me. The girls. Our future well-being. It was all just a bit of detail I was sure they’d hardly even looked at.
“I’ll have the contracts sent to you,” Zach said, completely ignoring my point about bargaining power. “You can review everything, add your own terms, and send it back when you’re ready.”
“My own terms?” I repeated lamely. “Like what?”
“You should get a lawyer to help you out with that, or maybe have Simon go through it with you? If you don’t want him, I can recommend Miranda Ellis over at Ellis & Anderson.
Full disclosure, Jesse’s wife, Jacqueline, works for the firm, but they’re good and they’re not handling this for us, so there shouldn’t be a conflict unless Jacque gets involved, which she won’t. ”
I blinked hard as the suggestion washed over me. It sounded fair, reasonable, and thoughtful. This definitely hadn’t been what it was like the first time around. So why was that same nagging suspicion I’d had the other day rearing up again?
It had been eating away at me ever since this had first come up, the possibility that he didn’t want to marry me and that was why he kept pushing me to rethink. Looking up into those clear green eyes now, I finally just said as much.
“You don’t want to do this. That’s why you keep building me an exit ramp, isn’t it?”
“We both know how it goes, Adeline,” he said.
“Refusal doesn’t happen in our world. Especially not when the match makes sense, and this one does.
It’s probably the best thing for the girls, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t have a choice.
It’s entirely up to you.” He glanced down at his watch.
“I have to get back to the office for a meeting.”
“Right,” I said, forcing the word past the lump of emotion that had settled in my throat. “Goodbye, Zach.”
“Bye.” He hesitated for just a second, looking back at the painting we’d been discussing earlier. His gaze lingered there, his expression suddenly thoughtful, like he was trying to make sense of something that refused to be explained. Then he turned and left without another word.
The interaction threw me off kilter for the rest of the day. Every time we talked, I felt more and more certain that Zach was actually looking for a partner in marriage. He wanted me to be comfortable and seen, and he actually cared about what I thought. Which was the complete opposite of my ex.
When I got home that evening, I did my best to put the whole thing behind me for the night. Zach had always been reliable. If he said he would have the contracts sent over once he’d reviewed them, then he would have them sent over.
While I would rather have known that he actually wanted this instead of simply feeling like he couldn’t refuse, I would wait until I’d seen the contracts before I talked to him about wants and expectations.
One step at a time.
Honestly, after the emotional battles of the last year, baby steps were the only kind of steps I had the capacity for.
Amber was at the kitchen counter with the girls when I walked in, fully immersed in a glitter-based disaster of some kind.
I cringed when I saw the countertops covered in the stuff, knowing we’d be finding glitter in our cabinets for years to come, but Amber seemed to be using it for whatever lesson they were busy with, and better yet, it seemed to be working.
“Mom!” Jennifer called when she looked up and saw me. “Look what I made. It’s a butterfly.”
If I squinted, I might be able to believe that, but I still set the groceries down and went right over to fawn over it. “It’s beautiful. You’re so creative, baby. How was your day?”
“It was good,” she said excitedly. “Did you know that butterflies start out as caterpillars?”
“I did,” I said, glancing over at Lu, who hadn’t even looked up yet. She was furiously coloring her caterpillar, completely focused until I sidled up and dropped a kiss on top of her head. “Do you think maybe I can have a hi before you carry on?”
Lu mumbled a quick “hello” and went straight back to work. I caught Amber’s eye over the counter and she arched an eyebrow at me like she was saying what are you going to do? She’s a perfectionist.
I smiled and started opening bags to put away the groceries, but my phone rang before I could even unpack the first one. The gallery’s name lit up my screen and I frowned, my mind immediately hurtling to the worst-case scenario.
Swiping up the device immediately, I answered, needing to know that my brain was just trying to con me into thinking I’d forgotten something important. “It’s the labels, isn’t it? The lighting on the Traveler’s Journey is perfect, so it can’t be—”
Debra’s chuckle came through the line. “It’s not the labels, honey. Relax. I’m actually calling to tell you about that piece from the back display. You know the one I’m talking about, right?”
I paused. “Yeah? The new Annie Matheson piece, Life As We Don’t Know It?”
“That’s the one,” she said. “It sold.”
“Oh, wow,” I said. “That’s great.”
It was also the piece I’d shown Zach, so I hoped he wouldn’t be too upset. Then again, I doubted he would ever buy something like that.
“It’s more than just great, Adeline,” Debra said. “Your commission on the sale is just over thirty thousand. Congratulations.”
I froze completely, every muscle in my body locking up. “I’m sorry. Can you repeat that please?”
“Thirty thousand,” she repeated cheerfully. “That’s why I’m calling. I thought you’d want to know right away. Talk about a good day’s work, am I right?”
I stared at the bag of apples in my hand. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She laughed. “I’m positive. Isn’t that amazing?”
“Yeah, it really is something, alright.” I swallowed hard, but my voice still came out on a squeak. “Thank you, Debra. I appreciate you letting me know.”
I ended the call and turned to find Amber watching me carefully. Both of her eyebrows were swept up this time.
“Well?” she asked.
I blinked a few times in rapid succession. “The new Annie Matheson sold. I’m getting a huge commission.”
She squealed. “That’s amazing.”
“Yeah, it’s unbelievable.”
Amber’s eyes widened. “Just unbelievable? It’s a freaking miracle, is what it is. Who bought it?”
I opened my mouth to tell her that Debra hadn’t said, but I already knew it didn’t matter whether I’d been given a name.
Just remembering the way he’d stood there and how he’d looked back at it told me I knew exactly who that piece would be going to—and who I could thank for my first truly meaningful commission since I’d walked back into that gallery.