‘Oh, you guys are just the best,’ she said.
‘Well, I’m just the courier,’ David said.
‘It’s gorgeous,’ Emily said, looking at it closely. There on the top was a very good impression of the gallery’s sign, complete with the panel beneath; OPEN. A lump rose in her throat, and tears threatened. Emily forced them back.
Jake took David through to the kitchen while Emily waited to see if any more guests were going to arrive. After a few minutes she went back inside to get the box of red dots ready in case anyone wanted to make a purchase. When she entered the room with her desk, she was stunned to find a line of people with wallets out. Simone was sitting behind the desk, processing their payments.
How long have I been gone? Emily wondered. Surely only a few minutes. She checked her watch. Less than fifteen minutes had passed since she’d been standing here with her father. She made her way along the line, greeting each person she knew. There was Maureen with Karen and Mavis from Whyalla, and behind them Ben and Stan, who told her the other three stonemasons were next door.
Most of the people in line she would never have picked as art lovers, and quite a few hadn’t been on the invite list. The advert in the Chronicle had clearly done the trick, as had the Carrington sisters, who had practically rubbed their hands together as they’d promised to spread the word.
Jake had made a special point of hand delivering their invitations, knowing the elderly pair would just love telling everyone about their special treatment. They had enjoyed several cups of tea and scones with the ‘delicious’ Jake, before Emily finally had to drag him from their clutches, and only after he’d promised to visit again before too long.
Thank God Tara Wickham hadn’t shown up! Emily hadn’t heard a thing about her since she’d turfed her out of the Baker brothers’ house. She really hoped the woman was long gone, but she certainly wasn’t going to waste another moment on the ghastly woman, especially on her night of nights.
Finally Emily made it to the desk. ‘Hey, it’s really not fair to have the artist doing all the work,’ she said.
‘It’s quite okay. This way the buyers actually get to meet me,’ Simone replied, before returning her attention to the customer in front of her. ‘There you are, thank you so much for buying Daisies. I hope it brings you a lot of joy,’ she added, smiling, as she handed over a receipt and credit card payment slip.
‘But what about the red dots; who’s in charge of putting them on?’ Emily asked, trying to quell her rising anxiety.
‘Don’t worry. I put your dad in charge. He’s got the red dots and a wad of post-its and a pencil. He writes the details down so we can keep a record here and put them on the receipt. Hello there, which one are you purchasing?’ Simone said brightly to the next person in line, and held out her hand to accept a bright orange post-it note and card.
‘Passionfruit. On credit, please,’ said Sarah. ‘Don’t tell Nathan, it’s for his birthday in July. Hopefully he’s still out the back,’ she said, looking around.
‘I don’t see him,’ Emily said, beaming at her.
‘See,’ Simone said to Emily, ‘a well-oiled machine. It’s all under control. Seriously, Em, you go and schmooze. At this rate we’ll be sold out in another half hour and I’ll be free to mingle too,’ Simone said cheerfully.
Surely not, Emily thought. All sold in an hour?! Wow, wouldn’t that be something?
Chapter Forty-three
But Simone was right. Forty-five minutes later, when Jake called for quiet, every one of the forty paintings had a small red dot on the label beside it.
It took quite a while to get everyone to move through to the back patio area. They’d initially planned to have the speeches in the front room, surrounded by art, but there were far too many people.
Jake stood with Emily and Simone on either side. The cake was in front on a card table draped in white. Behind them, on Emily’s strong encouragement, were Des, Enid, Thora, Barbara, David and the wait staff fanning out on each side.
‘Right,’ Jake started, microphone in hand. ‘Can everyone hear me okay?’
Shouts of ‘Yes’ rang out around the space.
‘Great. Don’t worry, we’re going to keep the formalities brief. A good speech is a short speech…’
Plenty of people chuckled.
‘Firstly, I want to thank you all for coming, especially those who have travelled a long way to be here. To my Melbourne friends, it means a lot to share this night with you. And to my new mates from Wattle Creek, thanks to you all for providing such a warm welcome to this city slicker.’
Now there were a few cheers.
‘But the person I most want to thank is my partner and fiancée, Emily,’ he said, looking deeply into her eyes and squeezing her to him, ‘for bringing me to Wattle Creek in the first place.’
Raucous yahooing rang out, and a wolf-whistle from up the back.
‘For those who might be wondering, I’m not actually a farmer.’
A few laughs. One bloke shouted, ‘You had us fooled, mate. The way you handled a tractor.’
Jake smiled. ‘I’m actually a builder and architect. And I’ve set up shop here. I’m hoping one day to take on an apprentice or two. So, while this building is Emily’s Button Jar Gallery of Fine Art, it’s also a showcase for my work. Everything you see here was built by my team – of which Simone, the artist, is a very important part. We were really pleased to find so many talented local tradespeople to put to work as well. If you’d like to know more or discuss a project with me, you’ll find my business cards on the mantelpieces in each room. Give me a shout any time. Well, that’s enough advertising. Tonight is really about Emily, and I’ll now hand over to her.’
Emily waited for the cheering and applause to die down. She felt strangely calm, not at all nervous, which was amazing considering that just the thought of public speaking usually made her sweat.
‘I, too, will try to keep it brief. But there are a lot of people I want to thank. Firstly, everyone who has helped on the building project and tonight’s event – Mum and Dad, Thora, Barbara and David and all the wait staff. Tonight would not have happened without you – or we’d at least have gone hungry…’
Boos rang out, and then whistles and cheers.
‘On a serious note, though, these wonderful people have donated all their time and done the catering and service to raise money for the Royal Flying Doctor Service. They are, quite literally, our lifeline at times. There are donation tins if you’d like to donate some cold, hard cash, and a percentage of every sale tonight is going to them. One of the wonderful things about small rural communities is our ability to be selfless and put aside our own problems to help others, so please dig deep.’
There was a brief round of applause.
‘Our artist, whose work I’m so proud to be representing tonight, is one of the most generous people I’ve ever met. Without even knowing me, Simone took it upon herself to sell my jam at a Melbourne market when I was going through a really tough time. It’s a bit of a long story. But she will never know just how much her kindness helped me. She gave me hope that things would turn out okay. Sometimes a little kindness can make all the difference to someone going through a rough patch. Oh, God, I think I’m going to cry.’ Emily gasped, and tried to laugh off her sudden feeling of being swamped with emotion. She smiled at Simone before continuing.
‘And, if it weren’t for Simone, and a single phone call she made early this year, Jake and I probably wouldn’t be together today – and we certainly wouldn’t be celebrating this new venture tonight. From the first time I saw her paintings in Melbourne, I knew she had an amazing gift. She’s going to be big. In five years time, Simone Lonigan is going to be a household name in the art world. And we’ll all look back on tonight and remember how it started.’
Emily took a few breaths before continuing.
‘You might be wondering why I’ve called the gallery The Button Jar, and for those who’ve seen the jar on the mantel in the
other room, why it’s there. Well, my granny Rose Mayfair was very dear to me. And one of my earliest memories is of sitting beside her as a small child, listening to her wise words while she sewed and mended. The day before she died last year, she gave me her precious button jar. I will always treasure it and the wisdom she passed on, and would like to dedicate tonight’s event to her memory.’
She bit her lip and looked at Jake. He nodded encouragingly.
‘Um, okay, moving on. To Mum and Dad, thank you. You’ve made me the person I am today. I know we’ve had our ups and downs, but I’m so glad you’re here to share this with me. So, well, thank you,’ she added a little helplessly, desperately trying to swallow down the lump making its way up her throat.
‘Sorry, bear with me. Almost done.’ She turned and looked at Barbara, and bit down hard on her lip before carrying on.
‘Speaking of ups and downs. Barbara, you’re my best friend. We haven’t known each other long, but you’ve come to mean the world to me. My gran had a saying: “True friends are like diamonds, precious and rare. False friends are like autumn leaves, found everywhere.” I don’t think I fully understood what she meant until I met you. You have seen me at my worst and helped pick me up when I was at my lowest. I will be forever grateful to you for believing in me, encouraging me, and supporting me. You were my rock when I didn’t even know which way was up. Thank you.’
Emily swallowed again and turned to Jake.
‘And, finally, my fiancé Jake, who I definitely couldn’t have done this without. Thank you. Nothing I say can adequately express how much it means to me to have you in my life. I love you.’
She managed to stop herself just before putting her hand on her belly and saying, ‘And our baby.’
‘And now it’s time to cut this gorgeous cake.’
Emily, Simone and Jake each put a hand on the knife and pushed it gently into the cake. Andre the photographer snapped away.
‘I hereby declare The Button Jar Gallery of Fine Art officially open,’ Jake said.
‘Three cheers for Jake, Emily and Simone,’ David shouted. ‘Hip hip, hooray. Hip hip, hooray. Hip hip, HOORAY!’
The applause was deafening. Emily, Jake and Simone beamed at each other. It couldn’t have gone any better.
‘That was a lovely speech, Emily. Just lovely,’ Enid said, appearing beside her and slipping her arm around her waist.
‘Thanks Mum, that means a lot,’ she said, smiling back at Enid, who she noticed had tears in her eyes too.
‘I’ll go and help with the cake and let you get back to your guests.’
‘Do you want a hand?’
‘No, you mingle.’
Gradually the crowd disbursed to fill all the rooms once again and the cake was handed around while people chatted.
The rest of the night passed in a blur. At some point the high-tech sound system Jake had had installed throughout the building was cranked up and people had danced.
It wasn’t until two in the morning that Jake, Emily and Simone waved the final couple off and the last car horn honked goodbye. Enid and Des, Uncle Peggy and Uncle Jim, Liz, Thora and Gerald, and Barbara and David had left hours ago.
‘What a night,’ Simone said. ‘And I thought gallery openings were sedate affairs.’
‘A sell-out in an hour – that’s brilliant, sis! Well done. Both of you,’ Jake said, draping his arms around their shoulders and pecking them on the cheek.
‘And you,’ Simone said.
‘I hope you get lots of business for JKL,’ Emily said.
‘Well, we’ll have to wait and see, but plenty of people seemed interested.’
‘A huge success all round then,’ Simone said.
Before they left, Emily ducked back inside and grabbed the button jar from the mantelpiece. Maybe it was silly, but she wanted Gran close by, not left alone in the gallery overnight. Jake hadn’t really wanted the jar there at all on public view – given its precious contents – but she’d insisted. They pulled the front door shut and then made their way back to the house with Emily behind the wheel of the ute.
Back inside, she thought she’d be too highly strung to sleep. But as she entered the kitchen, the feeling that she was home, and that it was all over, hit her with such force that she could barely muster the energy to clean her teeth or wash the make-up from her face.
‘What time do we have to be up?’ she asked as she lay in Jake’s arms.
He was putting on a barbeque brunch at the cottage for all the people who had travelled over from Melbourne. When they’d organised it, they’d had no idea they would still be up at two o’clock. Hopefully their guests would be a bit slow in rising as well.
‘You, my dear, can sleep in and wander over whenever you feel like it. I’ll take care of everything,’ he said, stroking her hair.
‘You’re a darling,’ she muttered sleepily, already starting to doze off.
‘Nothing you don’t deserve. Good night, sweetheart,’ he said. Then he kissed her, released her, and rolled over.
Chapter Forty-four
In the morning Emily stirred when Jake got up, but did not fully wake. She was vaguely aware of his mass leaving the bed, the rustle of clothes and quiet opening and shutting of cupboard doors and drawers. She knew she should be getting up as well to play host, but couldn’t fully rouse herself.
Just a few more minutes.
She rolled over and pulled the quilt up a little higher against her chin.
Later she heard muffled voices in the kitchen, again thought she should be up helping, but again told herself just a few more minutes of dozing. Jake would come and get her if she overslept.
She woke with a start, sat up and rubbed her eyes. She felt more awake than before, but was still a little groggy – a sure sign she’d fallen back into a deep sleep. She tried to analyse the light filtering through the heavy curtains and peeping through the gaps. It couldn’t be that much later, she thought; it was still grey outside. She cocked her head to listen for sounds in the house and kitchen. Nothing.
She picked up her watch from the bedside cupboard and peered at it, willing her eyes to focus. She stared at the small dial, frowning, and blinked a few times. Could it really be eleven o’clock? No, surely not. Maybe her watch had stopped. She held it to her ear and heard the ticking. Shit, it was eleven o’clock! She’d slept in way past when she’d meant to get up.
When she moved to get out of bed she was surprised at how heavy she felt. If she didn’t know better, she’d have said she was hung-over. She sighed, steeled her will, and pushed herself further. How embarrassing to be turning up now when everyone would have finished breakfast. Part of her hoped the guests had all left, keen to hit the road and get their long journey started. But she also wanted to see Ben, Aaron, Stan, Toby, and Bill. She’d barely spoken to any of them last night.
She dragged underwear, jeans, t-shirt and pink rugby top from her tallboy and gave the button jar a quick hug before getting dressed.
As she walked across to the cottage, rugged up in a thick coat, she revelled in the fresh, cool air in her face and cursed the overcast weather. No wonder she’d slept in; the sky was well and truly blanketed.
There were half a dozen vehicles parked out on the gravel in front. What would everyone think of her being so unsociable?
Oh well, too late now, she thought, as she stepped up onto the verandah and then into the hall. She glanced around as she made her way through to the kitchen. There was no sign of their late-running function the night before. She felt even more guilty at having not played a part in the clean-up.
She stood in the kitchen at the threshold to the patio wondering how to make her entrance.
‘Here she is,’ Jake said, getting up and coming over.
‘Hi,’ Simone and the men sitting around the large timber outdoor table called. Emily blushed as a round of applause started by Toby at the far end of the table gathered momentum.
‘Thanks for that, Toby. Trust you,’ she said with
a wave of her hand, as the noise died down. ‘Hi everyone. Sorry I slept in.’ As she looked at the empty plates with their scraps of bacon rind, her mouth began to water. She realised she was ravenous. All she’d eaten in the last twelve hours was some finger food and two small pieces of Barbara’s delicious cake. ‘I hope you left some food for me, you blokes.’
‘Only because Jake’s cooking isn’t a patch on yours,’ Aaron said.
‘That’s enough out of you,’ Jake said, throwing a tea towel at him. ‘Here, there’s plenty of room,’ Jake said, guiding her towards the nearest of the two tables. Everyone shuffled along to make extra space. Jake went over to the barbeque and opened the hood.
‘That looks so good,’ she said, accepting a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, mushrooms and grilled tomatoes with toast perched on the edge. ‘I’m so sorry I’m so late,’ she whispered, leaning into his shoulder.
‘No need to be sorry. It was a huge night. You needed your sleep. I would’ve woken you up if I thought you should be here. The guys don’t mind; they’re friends.’
Emily felt self-conscious eating alone in front of the dozen people, but they quickly returned to their conversations.
She had just pushed her empty plate aside when suddenly everyone started saying they had to get on the road. Next thing she knew, they were shaking Jake’s hand and pulling him into a series of manly hugs. Emily got up and apologised for not getting much of a chance to talk to them. They brushed off her apology with promises to come back and visit again soon. Emily, Jake, and Simone walked them out and waved them off.
When they went back inside, Jake said he’d tidy up from breakfast while Emily and Simone organised and packed up the paintings Simone was taking with her to deliver.
Prior to the opening they had deliberated over what to do if people travelling from Adelaide and Melbourne wanted to buy art. Simone had suggested she take them back with her and deliver them along the way. They’d agreed that it would be better to have a few blank spaces on the walls than hold the paintings until the end of the exhibition and then risk damage by freighting them.
Meant To Be Page 37
