by Tina Michele
“Hey, kid! Is this all your stuff? I don’t remember you leaving with quite so much,” her father said as he looked at her bags.
“Actually, that’s not it. I shipped the rest to the house. Don’t worry. I’ll get a storage unit in town. I don’t think I’ll need much of it for a while.”
Morgan’s mother shushed her. “Oh hush. There’s plenty of room for everything. No sense in spending money to store it somewhere.”
“Well, all right then, let’s get home,” her dad said as he brushed his hand over her cheek.
*
When they pulled onto the gravel drive, Morgan was welcomed by the unchanged scenery of her childhood home. She’d only been away eighteen months, but half expected things to be aged by years. The 1800s farmhouse had been renovated and expanded many times during its life, but had never lost any of its charming qualities. Morgan heard stories from her father that her great-grandfather bought the old train station and moved it to the farm over a hundred years earlier. As a child, she remembered trying to picture a train stopping in front of her house or strangers milling about in her living room while they waited for its arrival. Her favorite parts were the original crystal doorknobs throughout the house. It was an old house, but it was fascinating and it was home.
It was still the faded sunshine yellow with white trim and a wraparound porch. She remembered many summers gliding on the porch swing and daydreaming. Around the back were the milking barn and the grain silo. They too had been renovated over the years, but even with changing technology, her family had altered very little in regards to their milking process. Where many dairies advanced to digital and robotic technology, the Will-Bridge Dairy remained steadfast in their direct involvement and manual practices. Morgan believed that it was this perseverance that made her successful in life.
As the contentedness flowed over her, Morgan was suddenly exhausted. She was looking forward to throwing herself onto her old bed and taking a wonderful and much needed nap. A nap was something she didn’t think she’d had in nearly two years, and it was long overdue.
As soon as her bags were unloaded, they all made their way into the house. Morgan was worn out, but she took a brief moment to admire that few changes her parents had made to the décor during her absence. The same antique milk crates and bottles lined the shelves, along with the old childhood projects she and her brother had made over the years. She smiled at the sentiment of it all. Morgan knew that no matter where in the world she lived, she would always be a small-town farm girl at heart, and she liked that.
“It looks great, Momma,” Morgan said and then hugged her mother again. She was glad to be here. Morgan was also glad that she’d be staying there a while. She excused herself to her room for that increasingly desired nap.
*
Lee raised her glass in a toast to the guest of honor. Mary Turner had been the gallery curator for as long as Lee could remember. It seemed that once word got out about Clara Dencourt’s retirement, all the older employees and senior staff decided it was their time as well. The mass exodus of experienced personnel made Lee both excited and scared to death. She had prepared herself for it and thought she was handling it surprisingly well considering that everything she knew was changing so quickly. Yet, she also knew that the only way for the gallery to grow and advance was for this transition to take place. As long as she kept a tight and organized schedule, she was fine. Her admin assistant, Alex, definitely earned her keep when it came to handling Lee’s compulsions, and for that, she was beyond grateful.
“I know my father would have had something far more inspiring and insightful to say at this moment. But just as his words would have, mine come from the heart.” Lee swallowed the lump that rose in her throat as she reminisced about her childhood and the close friends she had made over the years.
Over the last several months, Lee replaced each of her retiring staff with exceptional talent, young and old. She was enjoying the new life they were breathing into her father’s gallery. Mrs. Turner was the last holdout of the old regime, and Lee wasn’t entirely certain she could ever replace her, even if she did find the most adept curator on the planet. All she knew was that she needed someone with new ideas and the desire to take the gallery to new heights.
As she was wrapping up her farewell speech, her mind flashed to images of the exhibition she had seen in Paris. The one created by a woman that she knew in her heart was exactly what she needed. No, she was exactly what the gallery needed.
*
Morgan sat on the front porch watching her father and brother tinker with the ancient Chevy pickup. Her father, John, had been fixing that rust bucket ever since she could remember. Although Morgan was enjoying the rest and relaxation she needed, she was more than ready to get back to work. She had been sending her curriculum vitae to every major gallery in the United States, whether they were officially hiring or not. There simply weren’t any openings.
She resigned herself to rocking in the light breeze and the afternoon sun, listening to the boys curse at the silly truck. Morgan jumped at the unexpected and shrill ringing of her cell phone.
“Hello?”
“Mademoiselle Blake! How are you, my darling?” a heavily accented woman said.
“Dr. Melbeau, hi! How are you?” Morgan was excited to hear from her old friend and mentor.
“C’est magnifique! I cannot speak long, but I have heard that there may be an opening soon that would be perfect for you. That is unless you’ve taken the position without telling me.”
Morgan laughed. “I would do no such thing. I’m hurt you would suggest that I’m so inconsiderate.”
“Oh, touché, darling! Well, the position is lead curator of the Dencourt Gallery in Washington, D.C. I’ve heard that their current curator is retiring. You must submit your CV. It’s perfect.” Dr. Mel hardly hid her excitement about the prospect.
“The Dencourt? Really? That is perfect! Wow, thank y—”
“Listen, I’ve got to run, darling. Look into that and quickly.” Dr. Mel ended her call with a few air kisses and hung up.
Morgan sat on the swing with the phone still in her hand. The Dencourt was a world-renowned gallery of American Art in Washington D.C. and also had a large share of European and Asian collections as well. It would be an amazing opportunity to finally put all her education to work for such a prestigious institution. She’d been scouring the Internet job boards and news outlets for word of open positions and hadn’t heard anything about the Dencourt. If she had, she might have driven her résumé three hours to submit it in person.
Morgan sat contemplating this opportunity, and the longer she did, the more her head began talking her out of it. Could she handle her own gallery? Could she possibly replace the expertise of the retiring curator with thirty years or more of experience? She was confident in her knowledge. After all, she had the academic standings to prove it, but was she ready? If she decided to submit, would she even make the cut?
Morgan could no longer sit still. She headed to her computer to review her résumé. Even if she decided not to submit, it couldn’t hurt to review it, even if it was for the hundredth time.
Chapter Nine
Lee paced in her office. She knew what she needed to do, and even more, she knew it was a brilliant, if not an utterly inspired idea. She reached for her desk phone and paged her assistant.
“Yes, Ms. Dencourt…of course.”
Alex Canton knocked twice and entered the office. Alex was a great assistant. She was young, vibrant, and eager. Lee always had a hard time keeping their relationship professional because Alex was such an enjoyable person to be around. She wasn’t interested in Alex romantically. Although she did possess qualities that Lee could see herself attracted to, it simply wasn’t like that. Even though Alex worked for her and Lee made it clear that she was her boss, they still had an undeniable but unspoken friendship. Lee secretly welcomed that, because if she counted, Alex was probably her one and only friend.
“Ale
x, I need you to contact Director Foillot or Madame Dautry at the Musée du Louvre and acquire the contact information for the American Ecole Du Louvre student named Morgan. I don’t know her last name. Once you get it, make contact with her and inform her that she has been selected to interview for the curator position.”
Alex scribbled steadily on her notepad.
“When she arrives, please show her to the curator’s office and—”
Alex interrupted and looked at Lee. “Why would I—”
“Show her the office. I will not be directly involved with this process. However, I am entrusting you with the task of ensuring that she does not leave without accepting the position.”
Alex finished writing her notes and waited for any further direction. The confusion was still clearly visible on her face.
“Do you think that’s something you can handle, Alex?” Lee trusted Alex immensely, but it still made her nervous to relinquish such an important task. Lee knew that in order to make it work she couldn’t be directly involved.
“Absolutely, ma’am.”
“Excellent. Thank you.” Lee smiled, releasing some of the tension in the room. “And, Alex…”
Alex raised an eyebrow.
“While she’s here, you are not to address me as anyone other than Ms. Dencourt and only if you absolutely must. Understand?”
“Of course, Lee, I mean, Ms. Dencourt.” Alex nodded. “Don’t worry about a thing.” Lee knew Alex wanted to ask questions, and any other time she may have allowed it. This just wasn’t one of those times.
*
The next day, as Morgan sat at her computer tweaking and re-tweaking her CV, her phone rang. “Hello?”
“Mmmm…Oh yeah, just like that, baby, ooooh…that’s how Daddy likes it!” A male voice moaned and groaned at the other end.
“Hi, Freddy. When are you going to change it up? The boys must be getting tired of your monotony.”
“Trust me, honey, the boys are far from tired of hearing that one,” he snapped back at her.
“Does Chris know that?” Morgan never thought Freddy would settle down, but then he met Chris, and the rest was history, as they say. Morgan wished that someday she would find her forever and for always.
“Sweetie, he’s my biggest fan!”
“Ha! So, how are you, sexy?” Morgan asked.
“Good. Great actually! I’m working on restoring a beautiful Renoir piece that we just acquired from a Swedish banker. It’s a disaster, but when I’m done with it, it will be the talk of the town.”
“I have no doubt.” Freddy had become a preservationist at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, and he was exceptionally good. She almost wished that there was an opening at his gallery. She’d have loved nothing more than to work so closely with her very best friend.
“So, did you hear about the Dencourt position? Nobody new has been in there in thirty years.”
“Actually, yes, I heard. Dr. Melbeau called and practically demanded that I submit. I’m working on my résumé now.”
“Well, don’t I feel like a girl late to the prom…hmpft…”
Morgan laughed. “What can I say, sweetie? Sometimes that second coat of lip gloss only makes you late for the show.”
Morgan and Freddie spent another forty-five minutes exchanging banter and catching up on the latest small art world gossip. She could always be sure that Freddy would keep her up to date on the dramatics. When she finally got off the phone and turned her attention back to the monitor, her phone rang again.
Without looking at the caller ID, she answered, “Freddie, go moan in someone else’s ear.”
*
“Uh…Hello? Miss Morgan Blake, please?” a confused woman asked.
“Oh…I…uh…This is me, I mean her. This is Morgan Blake.” Morgan smacked her forehead.
“Great! Hi. My name is Alex Canton from the Dencourt Gallery. I was calling to see if you would be able to make it to D.C. early next week to discuss the curator position that has recently opened.”
Morgan sat silent and a little confused and looked at the caller ID. It wasn’t Freddy or any number that she recognized.
“Hello? Miss Blake?” Alex asked.
“I’m sorry. I’m a bit caught off guard. I actually haven’t even submitted a résumé for the position. How did—”
Alex interrupted. “No worries, Miss Blake. You can bring it with you next week. I notice that you are living in Eastern Virginia, so you won’t need a flight. We can send a car.” The young woman was not asking.
“I…Um…No, that’s okay. I have a car,” Morgan managed to say.
“Excellent, Miss Blake. We shall see you at twelve p.m. on Tuesday, then?”
“Sure. I mean yes. Yes, of course. Twelve o’clock. Tuesday.” Morgan spit out truncated sentences.
“See you then, ma’am.” And just like that, the strangest call Morgan had ever received, ended.
Morgan sat stunned, staring at her computer screen with her fingers to her mouth. “What the hell just happened?”
*
Alex knocked on the large cherry door and entered the room. The first thing Lee noticed was the large smile on her face. Alex was clearly very proud of herself.
Lee grinned in response. “Yes?”
“Miss Morgan Blake will be here at noon on Tuesday. She is driving herself from Virginia and will be staying that evening at the Hay Adams.” Alex was beaming from her accomplishment.
“Really? Excellent work, Miss Canton. Well, then, why don’t you call it a day and head home. Nice job.”
“But I still need—”
“Go home, Alex. I’ll see you on Monday.”
Alex nodded. “Wow! Thanks, Lee. I mean, Ms. Dencourt.” She smiled and left the office, closing the door behind her.
“So far, so good,” Lee said to herself.
Chapter Ten
On Monday, Morgan called Alex at the Dencourt to make sure she hadn’t hallucinated the bizarre conversation from a few days earlier. To both her amazement and comfort, she was not going crazy and the meeting was still scheduled for noon on Tuesday. When Morgan discussed the situation with her parents, they weren’t nearly as concerned about the randomness of the phone call. They were certainly intrigued by the timing but not necessarily concerned. Her mother had always told her that things happen for a reason, and as Morgan expected, her mother stood by those words.
“Well, I’m sure that Dr. Mel made some calls. There certainly isn’t some cosmic communication between open positions and unemployed job seekers.” Morgan attempted to reconcile the strangeness with logic.
“Well, honey, either way, they have a position with your name written on it. It does seem to have a cosmic ring to it.”
“My name isn’t written anywhere except on an interview schedule for Tuesday.”
“We’ll see.” Her mother was always so positive even when things didn’t work out the way that she said they would.
It took Morgan less than three hours to get to the gallery. Even with construction traffic and detours, she was nearly an hour early. She liked to be early, but an hour was overkill. Instead of making her way to the administration offices, she entered the lobby and headed to the counter. She figured that she would browse the gallery map and acclimate herself to the gallery in person. She knew she wouldn’t have much time to wander the entire place beforehand, but she had enough time to see a few of the more well-known pieces. She made her way to the American collection. She gave herself half an hour to peruse the exhibition and made sure that she watched the time. Morgan was easily hypnotized by most artworks and frequently lost track of time when that happened. True to her nature, she found a piece by Frederick Church and was quickly absorbed into the painting. She moved in close in an attempt to smell the paint on the canvas. She had never been to Niagara Falls, but she could hear the roaring water all around her as she stood on the edge of the cascades. Morgan closed her eyes and imagined the cool spray on her face.
“Ever been?”
Morgan’s eyes flew open at the sound of a voice. She quickly stepped back from the painting and looked over at the woman standing next to her.
“Excuse me?
“Have you ever been to Niagara Falls?” the woman asked.
“Oh. I have not, unfortunately. But judging from this painting, I have no doubt that it’s quite spectacular.” Morgan looked at her watch. She realized she had once again overshot her time allotment and was a tad thankful for the stranger’s interruption.
“I can assure you the majesty of the falls has nothing on you.” The stranger held out her hand. “Lilly Kent.”
Morgan blushed and took her hand. “Morgan Blake. And thank you, but I’m sorry. I’m late for an appointment.” Morgan turned to leave but stopped quickly. “It was nice to meet you.”
“The pleasure is most definitely mine, Ms. Blake.”
*
Lee was running late for her lunch appointment with Lilly Kent. Running late never set well with Lee, but she knew that Morgan’s interview was scheduled for noon, and Lee was anxious to get out of the building. She had wanted to avoid coming to the office at all. More importantly for her plan, she needed to avoid seeing Morgan until Alex had sealed the deal. Of course, when Lilly called to meet for lunch, Lee realized she would need to stop by the gallery for the documents they needed to review. Lee expected to be in and out quickly, but once word spread that she was on the premises, her phone had not stopped ringing. After Lee put out the last of the administrative fires, she grabbed her keys and left the office. To her dismay, Lilly wasn’t waiting for her.
“Alex, did Kent go downstairs?” Lee asked.
“Yes, ma’am, about twenty minutes ago.”
“Ugh…okay…thanks,” Lee said as she headed to the elevator. She pressed the down button, but something inside her said that taking the stairs would be better just in case Morgan was on her way up. She turned and headed to the fire exit stairs instead. When Lee exited the stairwell into the large lobby, she recognized Lilly coming out of the American Masterpieces exhibit.
