1. Keris
K eris~
A lot of people thought that my job was stupid or meaningless, so it was a good thing that I didn’t overly care what other people thought.
I’d been able to make a career out of doing what I loved, and I never lost sight of what a blessing that was.
Too many people had jobs that they were miserable doing, and I was thankful not to be one of those people.
As the museum curator of Impressions Art Gallery the mines could only be owned and controlled by the firstborn daughters of the next generation, never to fall into the hands of any male heirs or spouses.
If a daughter wasn’t born to the mother, then the mines would be willed evenly to the seven countries that made up Central America, and no one wanted that.
In a world where male heirs were most desired, in our family, daughters held the keys to the kingdom.
Once my mother passed, the mines would belong to me, so I always made sure that I was just as involved as my mother whenever there was something going on with the mines, even if it was just reading up on the quarterly reports of nothing going on.
So, yes, I’d been able to choose what I’d wanted to do in this life because of my family’s wealth, and I didn’t feel guilty for it. Josephine Jennings had paid a huge price for our family’s legacy, and I honored her sacrifice by living the best life that I could.
As for my younger sister, Lindsey, she’d been of the same mind frame, choosing teaching as her passion in life.
Lindsey had gone to college to become a teacher, and she had landed a job at one of the most prestigious colleges in the state as a history professor.
She’d been doing well until three years ago, when she’d been diagnosed with epilepsy, a combination of generalized and focal episodes.
Though it wasn’t life threatening at this point, Lindsey had enough seizures to render her disabled by law.
Lindsey was also only thirty, and way too young to live her life like this for the rest of her years.
Luckily, she had a fulltime nurse, Pauline Heard, and though she was extremely expensive, she was the best in her field.
When an illness hit so close to home, it made a person wonder how the lower-income families managed.
“You’ve been staring at that piece since it got here.” I turned to see Faron Golden walking my way. “It’s not going to change.”
Faron Golden was the owner of Impressions, and Faron Golden was his real name. His mother was a diehard regency romance fanatic, and that’s how a person got the name Faron Golden. Granted, his last name was legit from his father, but still. It didn’t help that he looked like a Faron Golden, either.
I smiled as he came to stand next to me, his six-foot-one frame towering over my five-foot-two.
Even in heels, I didn’t make a dent in our height difference.
Faron also had dark blonde hair, glittering grey eyes, and a face that resembled royal aristocracy.
The man was good-looking, sexy, smart, and built like he should never wear a shirt.
Nonetheless, the man was also wealthy, controlling, intrusive, annoying, and temperamental.
While artsy people were often temperamental, Faron had enough mood swings to make you think that he might suffer from bipolar depression.
However, his flair for the dramatic was the only thing that nixed that theory.
Faron was definitely an all-eyes-on-me type of personality.
I turned back towards the sculpture. “I’m going to hold off on displaying it for now,” I informed him.
“Why’s that?”
“It looks too familiar,” I stated, considering the piece. “While it’s not a copy, per se, the curves look too...I’m not sure. I just need a few more days to decide.”
“Mars Jolie is expecting to see her piece showcased this weekend,” he reminded me.
“Well, she’s not going to see it showcased until I’m confident that she hasn’t mimicked another artist’s style.”
Faron nudged my shoulder with his arm. “And that’s why I love you,” he said. “I absolutely adore your fearlessness.”
“It’s easy to be fearless when you have money to fall back on,” I retorted. “If you fired me, or Mars were to ostracize me in the art community, I’d hardly starve.”
“True,” he conceded. “But it’s nice to see that integrity still exists in this game.”
Turning away from the sculpture, I looked up at him. “Any plans this weekend?”
Faron shook his head. “I’m working this weekend.”
“Do you need any help?”
“I’d say yes, but I know that you have plans with Dylan and Huntley tomorrow night, and I don’t need a hungover curator getting in my way this weekend.”
I laughed. “You could always play hooky and come drinking with us.”
“Yeah, no thanks,” Faron snorted. “The last time that I got drunk with you ladies, Dylan took me home, and I still haven’t recovered.”
This time, I nudged him. “Oh, c’mon,” I teased. “You survived.”
Faron shot me a look. “Barely,” he huffed. “It was like Wild Kingdom, the survival of the fittest edition.”
Out of my two best friends, Dylan was the one with no fucks to give. Huntley was a little bit more reserved, though that wasn’t saying much.
“Well, if you change your mind, just call me,” I told him. “I can help you out if you need it.”
Faron shook his head. “Nah, it’s just paperwork, Shopgirl,” he said. “You have fun.”
“Okay,” I replied as I went back to studying the sculpture.
“If you need a ride, if any of you need a ride, call me,” he ordered like the controlling male that he was. “I mean it.”
Yeah, life could be a lot worse, and I thanked God that it wasn’t.