41. Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-One
Harmon and Sal
SAL
The days that followed the opening were a blur.
Sal had never worked on an art fair of this large a scale.
She took very few breaks during the four-day event, and in between, she talked to artgoers and monitored the activities, with Willow and Theola taking turns.
They woke early each day to make sure the decor was still up, that the stalls were following safety protocols, and that the grimoire and all the other artwork were secure, clean, and maintained.
The load felt heavier when Rafa left after the opening ceremony with little to no explanation of why.
Willow said he left because of the provenance papers.
But Sal knew better. She knew he probably hated her and couldn’t stand being around her.
She had looked for him afterward, but Harmon had distracted her by introducing her to industry heads and critics who had attended both their art shows.
So by the time she went out to look for him, he had already gone.
Two more days, Sal reminded herself as a client inquired again about the grimoire. So many people held a fascination with it.
“Could you tell me again about the lore of the three witches, please?” said another critic, and Sal obliged, explaining its origins and the three witches of St. Stephenshire.
Most of the clients would either ask suspiciously or become enthralled by the grimoire.
News outlets requested on-site interviews.
Newspapers featured it, and it was all over the internet.
This helped them build buzz and have people talking about it.
It was an ongoing phenomenon that challenged people’s idea of magic.
Perhaps that’s what the grimoire offered them, the possibility of something unknown in tangible form.
Some even attempted to negotiate and buy it for less than the appraised price, and Sal, although tempted, kindly offered them other pieces they could invest in.
Willow approached her while they were assisting guests, holding a newspaper.
“Look,” she said, pointing to a page in the Philippine Star, and jabbed her finger at a perfect photograph of Harmon on page three of the lifestyle column.
“I heard from our lawyers that Harmon met the threshold of 1.5 million worth of sales.”
“How much did he sell?” Sal asked nervously.
Willow pulled out her phone and opened a document on the screen.
Sal’s eyes widened as she mouthed a “wow.” Harmon sold nearly 12.
5 million worth at the exhibit. The critics said the show was a booming success, but the turnout was less than they expected.
“Maybe the guest turnout wasn’t so good because it was too exclusive,” Sal said, zooming in on that portion of the report.
“At least on that scale, we’ve already won,” Willow said.
The sheer number of people who visited the art show was overwhelming.
Theola had needed to ask her large brood of cousins to assist in the day-to-day operations, and since they answered to their reliable Ate Theola, they were more than eager to help.
Sal gave Willow her phone back and stretched her shoulders. “Ugh!” she exhaled. She had been at it for nearly five hours straight, and it wasn’t helpful for her posture.
As she stood up straight, she saw Harmon saunter through the bustling crowd of artgoers. Willow looked toward Sal. “Take a break,” she suggested. “I’ll handle the grimoire talks. Theola’s cousins have everything else handled, pretty much.”
Sal removed her gloves and walked over to Harmon. He had taken to visiting her nearly every day since the art show started. “No doubt you’re here to gloat,” she teased as she walked by him, knowing he would follow her.
“I’d do no such thing. I brought some food for you that’s not puto or bibingka. I can imagine it gets old after a few days.” He held up a paper bag. The food’s aroma made her mouth water.
A quick walk back to the BnB later, they found themselves seated on the second-floor sala cushions and munching on gourmet dumplings.
Harmon’s presence had been a welcome relief through the past few stressful days.
Since they became a couple, he spent nearly every morning with Sal—driving back and forth from Makati to Batangas without hesitation, sometimes arriving with a bouquet, other times with takeout in hand.
He stopped by again in the evenings when he could, often offering to buy her dinner after long days at the art show.
She was getting used to having him around, and more than that, she was looking forward to it.
“Sal, I’m leaving for Budapest in a few weeks. I want you to come with me,” he said, popping a dumpling into his mouth.
She’d never been there, and from what she knew, Budapest was a unique place to experience art and culture. Her initial plans after the art show then came to mind, and she realized she had been away from St. Stephenshire and her cats for too long.
Harmon let out a teasing grin. “It’s for work, but I could give you a tour, and we can finally have time together,” he said with a lilt in his voice.
Sal smiled back at him warmly. She knew what he was doing—trying to find a romantic moment where they could be alone together. And where else than another country she wanted to visit? “I’ll think about it,” she said, gulping down her water and pouring another glass.
“I also wanted to ask if I could formally buy the grimoire.”
Sal’s brows furrowed. “What?” she asked.
“I said I want to purchase the grimoire.”
“Do you know the appraised value?” she asked, leaning against the back of the sofa.
Harmon wiped his lips with a napkin. “Yes, and I am eager to pay it,” he replied as though it were as simple as buying a new pair of shoes. “I know the grimoire’s valuation will triple after the provenance documents are procured, so I’d like to have it in my collection before the price goes up.”
“You want to purchase the grimoire even before reviewing the provenance documents?” she asked.
“Well, no risk, no reward,” he said, cracking a stiff smile. “Will you please think about it?”
She nodded. “Okay, I’ll think about it.” Sal was aware the price would increase with the provenance documents in hand, and Harmon, being the astute collector that he was, would prefer to buy it low.
She just hoped Rafa would come back soon with the documents so she could have more offers to make the best possible sale.
Harmon placed his hand gently on hers. “Think about Budapest, too? I think it would be a good place for us to start.”
The thought of a new beginning with another person, when she had spent so much time exploring new experiences with Rafa, was both exciting and strange, like she was about to step into something new again. Sal patted his hand and nodded. “I’ll let you know.”
***
That evening, Sal convened with Willow and Theola at the BnB as they punched numbers on their phone’s calculators. With all the earnings from the food stalls and the sale of some of the artwork, they were still far behind a million in earnings.
“If the numbers are adding up,” Theola began, “we should sell the grimoire soon if we want to even have a chance at beating Harmon.”
“I’m not sure it’s ours to sell yet,” Sal said, her anxiety rising to chest again at being so close yet so far from their goal of keeping Autumn Town.
“But it is, right? Rafa had it appraised, and he’s out there getting the provenance documents,” Willow reasoned. “I’m sure it’ll be okay to sell. As long as the buyer knows the documents will follow.”
Sal ran her fingers along her chin as she considered it. “Why don’t we call Rafa?”
“I tried,” said Willow. “I’ve been trying, but he’s unavailable.”
Sal lowered her eyes, feeling it was deliberate on Rafa’s part to remain unreachable. She looked at the numbers again. “Fine. Let’s sell it.”
“Do we have a buyer?” Willow asked.
Sal looked at them. “Harmon; he wants to buy it for the asking price.”
Willow raised her brows., “So the guy who wanted to wager against Autumn Town now wants to fund our winnings?” She smiled. “Looks like someone’s motives changed.”
Sal felt her cheeks grow hot. It was true.
Harmon was chasing something else now. It was also apparent how he wanted to help even out the odds.
She felt a tenderness toward him when she understood how much he cared.
“Well, we still have to read what the critics say. We’ll tally with Harmon after we sell the grimoire to him.
After that, we can only hope the critics favor us. They’re the final deciding factor.”
Theola, looking pensive, nodded, and Willow gave a look of approval.
It was a win-win situation; Harmon would get what he wanted, they’d have a competitive edge against his art exhibit, and the money would help Autumn Town—assuming they’d win.
Sal only wished Rafa were present so he could witness how much his contribution of the grimoire would help them through this.
Willow clapped her hands and rubbed them together. “Okay! I’ll draft the sales agreement,” she said, typing gleefully on her laptop.
Sal bit her lip. Their art show would end in a day soon, and after that, the wager would depend on the critics’ final score. Her heart remained desperate and hopeful.