Lightning Strikes Twice

by Erik Schubach

  I called down for room service to get a quick meal before I went to the gallery. Currently, the gallery hours were eleven am to eight pm. The winter hours. After a quick pasta bake I called Harold and changed my clothes into one of my professional suits and grabbed a stack of paperwork that I didn’t need, but I was trying to project a certain image when I arrived at my new business. Then I made my way outside. Harold was already circling the block and was pulled in within seconds of me reaching the sidewalk to wait.

  He hopped out and opened the door before I could reach it. I rolled my eyes playfully at him and this time he did smile. As soon as we were situated and he was pulling away from the curb he cocked his eyebrow in question. I took a deep breath and exhaled. “Just drive me around downtown a bit. I just need to get reacquainted with… home… then to the Downtown Gallery if you would.”

  He nodded once and seemed to be taking stock of me in the mirror for a moment then he seemed to nod to himself once again and turned his attention to the road. I just absently stared out the window, watching all the familiar buildings go by. The Space Needle seemed to always be visible with the routes he took, and we went past Pike Place and I cut back a sob as he brought us below the viaduct and I saw that impossible hubcap mural that Mia had done on the side of a brick building, of Vee staring up into the sun.

  I closed my eyes to fight off a mini panic attack as my anxiety seemed to choke me. My eyes snapped open as Harold asked, “How long has it been?” With his attention on the mirror like he was trying to understand me. I could see how insightful the man was and he was trying to keep my mind off of whatever was causing me to tense up.

  I took a cleansing breath then forced a smile on my face and looked at him through the mirror and almost whispered, “Twenty years.”

  He nodded thoughtfully and said, “For how much has changed since then, you’ll be surprised at how much it has stayed the same.”

  I smiled and nodded once at him in thanks then sat up straighter in the seat and concentrated on enjoying the sites. I glanced to the west at the Sound, and all the boats going about their business then I swung my eyes to the east and saw those unchanging mountains of the Cascades, covered in snow. I choked back an involuntary sob. No matter how much of a life I made for myself in London, THIS was, and always would be home for me. I closed my eyes and composed myself.

  Before I knew it, we were parked in front of the gallery and Harold was opening my door for me. He offered his hand and I took it as he helped me out. He made a circular motion, with his finger pointing down, with a question on his face. I shook my head. “No, don’t bother circling. This will take a while. I need to introduce myself to my new employees. I’ll call.” He nodded once and like a ghost, he hopped into the car and faded away into traffic again.

  I straightened my blouse and smoothed my skirt then took out my reading glasses to finish the look I wanted to project to my employees. A professional. Probably the exact opposite of my true personality. But there is value in comporting myself in a specific manner to elicit the desired responses from my staff. I reviewed the records in my head, of the six people that now work for me, and grinned again at Missy’s name.

  Then I strode with purpose to the front door and pulled it open like I owned the place. Oh, I’d so make an awesome badass! Then I chuckled at myself, whispering, “You do own the place Vickster, duh.”

  I walked right past the greeter, Tracy, who looked a little different than she had in the short video conference a few weeks back. Must be the new pageboy hairstyle. It’s cute. I grinned to myself as she started catching up to me, I stopped and turned back suddenly and she almost ran into me. She opened her mouth to attempt to say something, but I cut her off. “Those event fliers at the case by the door need to be looked after. Two of those events are over, we don’t need to look inefficient here, and the handbills on the table below it are a mess, they need to be straightened up.”

  She glanced over at the glass case hanging on the wall by the door then back at me and opened her mouth again. Gawd I’m evil… I tried hard not to chuckle at the look on her face as I cut her off again, “I need to see Missy right away Tracy,” as I marched purposefully to the arching stairway to the second floor where I knew the two offices were. One for the owner and one for the curator. The exhibits I passed were amazing, a few belonged in museums to be shared with everyone, not hidden away by private collectors.

  Tracy was still walking quickly behind me. “I’m sorry ma’am, but who are you?” I stopped mid-step on the stairs with one hand resting on the carved walnut railing and turned back. She almost bumped into me again. Then I stared at her and just arched an eyebrow expectantly.

  I fought off the smile when I saw recognition and realization dawning in her eyes. She took a step back down the stairs as she blurted out quickly, “Miss Davenport! I’m, I mean… yes ma’am. I’m sorry. Right away.”

  I couldn’t do it anymore and I broke out into a huge smile. “It’s fine Tracy. I’ll be in my office.” This seemed to relax her and she returned my smile and hurried past me and went to the left. I turned to the right and walked along the balcony looking at the paintings on consignment from various artists that hung along it. I stutter stepped at one and had to turn to look at it. Wow. I mean just… wow.

  I took in the canvas. Whose was this? It had to be a new piece since I had no recollection of it in my inventory. There was a single thick swoop of black tar-like paint that gracefully swayed down the canvas. It was punctuated by unexpected bursts of blue and yellow down its length, causing a playful turbulence. I don’t know why but this simplistic painting evoked a feeling of joy in me, it looked like a stream would feel with water rushing around rocks along the way.

  I looked at the sheet on the wall next to it and grinned. It was titled Babbling Brook so I wasn’t far off. I didn’t recognize the name, Robin Hartford. The artist bio on the sheet shared that she was a student at the New York Academy of Art. I had to smile since that was where my goddaughter Abbey was attending, it would be her senior year this year.

  I nodded once at the piece. It had a modest price of thirty-one hundred on it. I shook my head, this young artist was going to go far. I could tell and this was a steal of a price to get something this early in her career. Maybe I’ll buy this one for myself as an investment in the future. Besides, it is so pretty and fun!

  I got to the door of my office. It had one-way glass so I could look out over the gallery when I was here. The mirrored surface gave more depth to the gallery, giving the illusion it was bigger than it was. I grinned at the plaque on the door. It read, “Victoria A. Davenport Ph.D. – Owner” I shook my head, I wanted the honorific off of the plaque, but gold star for Missy for already having things prepared for me here. I cringed at the Ph.D., I just kept taking classes until I added a doctorate in Arts and Humanities, it was an accident… honest.

  I placed my hand tentatively on the door lever. Taking in the cool feel of the brass beneath my hand, the handle had substance. It was solid brass and not just a cheap, plated brass lever. I ran my fingers along it then grasped it and opened the door. It was a pretty office. Dark hardwood floors with a large Arabian rug with rich burgundies and golds beneath the seating area by the desk. There were three plush gold chairs in a half circle around a low glass table that had some tulips in a glass vase and a capped carafe of water with three glasses on a simple brass serving tray in the middle of the table.

  In front of the chairs was a pretty carved walnut desk. The two side walls contained floor to ceiling bookshelves with brass adornments that looked like little flowers and a brass rail at the top that had library ladders connected to each. There were multiple sculptures and art books filling the shelves.

  The wall behind the desk was dominated by huge floor to ceiling glass sheet windows that had a view of the bustling streets of downtown Seattle. I knew from the outside that there were mirrored, one-way glass too. There were heavy burgundy drapes on either side that could be pulled to bloc
k out the light. The opposite wall was a matching wall of glass that gave me a great view of the gallery below, it had similar drapes if I ever needed the illusion of privacy.

  I flopped down in the puffy black leather chair behind the desk. I almost sank in. Gawd it was comfortable. I scanned the office and smiled. It was pretty ostentatious, but I think I liked it. I wouldn’t be changing much. I wouldn’t be spending too much time here anyway, I didn’t want to step on Missy’s toes, I know how overbearing some owners can be which just gets in the way of the curator doing their job.

  I placed my glasses on the desk and closed my eyes and leaned back into a comfortable chair, which was a bad move. I had nodded off and my eyes snapped open at the knocking at the door. I straightened my jacket and grabbed my reading glasses and shoved them on hastily with both hands. I sat up straight and called out calmly, “Come in.”

  I almost snorted at the middle-aged blonde woman who walked in. She was tall and almost regal looking with the stands of silver peppering her long hair. Her immaculate business suit and skirt were sharply pressed and I could see her flawless manicure and understated makeup from where I stood. Her overall appearance was severely professional, like she had taken lessons for stick up the ass dressing and comportment from la Ice Queen herself.

  I noted the delicate wedding band on her finger and grinned at the fact that she had finally let someone in, to see the woman behind the bitchy armor. Knowing her, the guy was a stone cold hunk, if her dating habits from college were any indication.

  The two things that showed her individuality were the sneakers she wore on her feet in counterpoint to the outfit, and the signature Missy smirk on her face as she greeted me. “Glad to see you made it twerp.”

  I stood and smoothed down my skirt and stepped around the desk to give her a hug. “Just thought I’d make a surprise visit a day early to take a peek at the place wench.”

  We took a step apart and appraised each other. She grinned and said, “Lippy as ever I see.” She shot me a tiny wink then her features softened. “But really. It is so good to see you Vicky. It really has been too long.”

  I nodded in agreement as my smile slipped a little. “Yes… entirely too long.” I felt a little ashamed of my cowardice. Then I brightened. “Anyway, take me on the tour of my place? Then we can discuss business strategy.” I gave her a toothy grin that she returned and motioned both hands palm up toward the door.

  As we walked out I remembered something. “Oh, can you pull the canvas by Robin Hartford for me and charge my account? That girl is going to be going places.”

  Missy arched an eyebrow and nodded once in approval. “I thought so too. That’s why I took the consignment last week.”

  I nodded and said thoughtfully, “See if you can’t get another work or two of hers. Let’s see how they do down on the main floor.”

  Missy was blinking at me comically with huge eyes. Oh… “Sorry, didn’t mean to do the curate-y thing. Old habits and all. I’ll try not to step on your toes too terribly often.” This got her to grin and wiggle her head like a bobblehead.

  Yes, I can see us working together just fine. She tilted her head before we restarted the tour and she mentioned, “You caught a bit of the accent over there. You were too cute already. It just isn’t fair to us normal girls.” I just giggled and pushed her forward down the corridor playfully.

  There really wasn’t much more to see. Her office was a mirror of mine except she didn’t have any windows behind her desk, most likely because nobody wants a view into an alley. And besides the restrooms on each floor, and a little break room between the upstairs ones, there was just one other area. The staging and delivery bay. It was just a huge cavernous room with a gigantic roll up door for trucks and deliveries to drive right in. There were racks and dollies everywhere.

  There was a little office beside the door into the galley proper. It was all glass and there was a desk inside with two workers looking at some clipboards. I knew them as our prep man, Jackson, and our shipping clerk Adam. I noticed Missy’s professional demeanor when we weren’t alone, with approval.

  Introductions were made and then we concluded the tour in her office. We sat in the wingback chairs she had by a maple wood coffee table in front of her desk. We sipped on water as she said, “That’s about it. What do you think?”

  I smiled wistfully. “Truthfully? I think it is perfect.”

  She squinted an eye. “I never would have thought it.”

  I screwed up my face. “What?”

  She chuckled. “Little Vicky is all grown up. You put on that professional demeanor around the other employees like it is well practiced. Shit… are you maturing, woman?”

  I squished up my face and crinkled my nose. “Hey. I’m still little. But yes, I do what is necessary to make sure all of my ventures are successful.”

  Then she said as she slightly squinted her eyes, like she was gauging my reaction, “Mia’s exhibit opens in two days. As usual she won’t deliver until the day of.”

  I realized I had stopped breathing and forced myself to breath normally. 9-5-0-2-8. Gary L. Brandt, Mellissa B. Carpenter, Xii Chan Li. A group of owls is called a parliament. I stopped myself from creating the white noise and pulled my glasses off, and absently chewed on one of the ends of a earpiece then spoke, “I can’t wait that long. I’m tired of running. Can you get her in here tomorrow night? Just tell her the gallery owner needs to speak with her.” She regarded me for a long moment and just nodded once.

  We talked shop for a while then things wound down. She really had an eye for art and her business sense was pretty spot on itself. It was a shame that the previous owners didn’t use that as a resource, then maybe they wouldn’t have had to sell.

  The one major thing I brought up was the straight out purchase of a lot of mid-range art. If we could get it at wholesale prices direct from the artists, we’d triple the money we got from consignment commissions. I shocked the hell out of her when I okay-ed a three million dollar slush fund for direct purchases for the first year. I had no use for the money and it really wouldn’t put a strain on my personal finances. I was committed to making this work, there is no way in hell I would let the gallery fail. This seemed to gain more approval from her by the way she inclined her head with a slight grin.

  Then we stood and I grasped her hand between mine and squeezed once. “It’s good to be home. I’ll see you tomorrow Missy.”

  She nodded again, still studying me as I left. I made my way to my office to pick up my purse as I dialed Harold to inform him to meet me up front. I’ll have to face my fears and see my parents in the next couple days and pick up my Range Rover. Knowing dad, he has kept it well maintained just waiting for me to return after all these years. I’ll start with Mia before I ask their forgiveness. One terrifying thing at a time.

  Chapter 5 – Mia

  I didn’t sleep well that night, I kept waking up in a cold sweat. I finally allowed myself to think about all the happy times I had with Vee and Mia after Abbey was born. Gawd we were a tight knit crew. I’ve never had that much fun ever since, even with Candi. Things just meshed seamlessly back then, our only worry in the world was Valhalla’s health. I felt like a third mother to Abbey, and that is how the girls treated me too.

  I had thought that Mia’s OCD and her mild germ phobia that accompanied it were going to be a detriment when it came to taking care of Abbey. I mean, with the dirty diapers, spit-up and such. But she just took it all in stride. I gotta tell you that there was no more organized baby changing station anywhere on the planet, everything was always lined up perfectly. She was like super-mom.

  These thoughts cut through my anxiety and lulled me into a pleasant sleep. It was a rare treat that I allowed myself to think of the girls.

  I woke up the next morning and distracted myself most of the day. It was Christmas eve. I grinned at the thought, I hadn’t bought gifts for Mia and Abbey this year. I figured that Abbey would be home for the holidays. All my time and effort t
he past month and a half were put into buying the gallery, closing all my business accounts, and prepping for the move back home. So I rang up Harold and said, “Hi Harold, it’s Victoria. If you aren’t with your family today, I’d like to go out to get some Christmas shopping done today.” He was quick to say he’d be right here.

  No matter where we went, I wasn’t able to find anything appropriate for Mia. I mean, it had to be perfect. It had to have meaning to it beyond just a simple trinket. It had to… oh, sorry… the story. So I started looking for something for Abbey. At an artisan fair, I found an ancient hope chest. I blinked at the worn and pitted wood, cast iron fittings and leather straps that doubled as hinges for the lid. The cast iron key and lock were perfect, the head of the key was wrought into a heart shape. Inside was a scarlet quilted, cushioned interior. The whole thing just had a certain feel of reverence to it.

  I snagged it. I had something to put in it. One of my most-treasured belongings. I smiled warmly at the thought.

  Then I thought about Mia again. What could I possibly get for her that would be something that touched her in a way I could share the wonder that sparkled in her green eyes? I thought back to that one perfect Christmas and replayed it all, then I had it. There was one thing that I noticed that caught her eye and made her smile. Then I excitedly ran off to a craft store to get what I needed.

  I picked up a few Christmas cards along the way, there were more people I needed to think about, and now a few I was responsible for as well. I filled out one card right away and slipped a hundred dollars in an envelope then handed it to Harold when he dropped me back off at the hotel room. “Merry Christmas Harold. I won’t be needing your services anymore. It was a pleasure to know you, now shoo spend time with your family.” He nodded and replied, “It has been a true pleasure Victoria. Merry Christmas.”

  After I had got to my room, I spent some time filling out cards and stuffing cash in some and writing checks to place in others. I had cards with cash sent down for Robert and Dyson.