by Chelsea Hale
“Business?” It made sense that he was calling for business. He hadn’t waited for months to call to then talk about something personal—even bringing up the restaurant sounded more like shooting the breeze before a business meeting. Just something to mention, not something to emotionally connect to.
“Yes. Adam and Kira love your work. He said I’d need to talk to you personally about the payment.”
Hope dissolved around her leaving her a crumpled mess. She sat down. He’d reduced her gift to a transactional arrangement. Couldn’t Derek sense that she’d spent the time on it because it was important to him to give a meaningful gift to his assistant? Did he never understand her at all on the cruise? She’d been clear it was a gift. Something she was happy to help with. Not something she needed to be compensated for. “No payment is necessary.”
“I want to compensate you for your time. It looks like it took a lot of effort.”
It had taken a lot of time, but she didn’t want to be paid for it. Not like this. Had she not seen him this afternoon, she’d have answered with a flirty, ‘Take me to a Broadway show and we’ll call it even,’ or something like that. But he was seeing someone else.
She’d thought for half a second if she’d seen him at Renaldi’s that she’d join him at his table, unexpectedly. He’d be by himself, like he always said he was, and she’d sit down and hide her face behind a menu until he looked up. Then she’d make a flirty comment like, ‘I hope the food is as good as the guy on the ship made it sound, because I’ve come all the way here just to try it.’
“Mandy? Are you there?”
She flung away the daydream of the lunch she wished she would have had like a catch and release fish. She felt her voice tremble. “It’s on the house, don’t worry about it.”
“There’s got to be some way to thank you for it.”
She smiled, grateful it had made such an impression. “No need. I was experimenting, and it was good practice to do something like that.”
“Speaking of, Kira wants to talk details. She’s been talking you up to all of her friends. Wants to talk about having more custom prints made.”
“Adam has my number, she can call me anytime.” And if it were true, Kira would have probably already reached out. Derek was just trying to bolster her up—was it because she wouldn’t take his money for the present?
“If you’re ever in New York, I’m sure Kira would love to talk with you in person.”
Mandy clutched her phone harder, almost wanting to tell him that she was here right now. But then he’d feel obligated to go do something with her. Maybe take her to Adam’s house or to a show or out to dinner.
Or worse, he’d blow her off and explain how busy he was and would never bring up the fact that he had a girlfriend and didn’t want to see her anymore. No. Better not to let him know she was here. If she came back to visit Liz, she’d go visit Adam’s wife then—maybe on her last day of the trip. “I’ll keep that in mind. I’m glad she’s pleased with my work.”
He paused. “Okay. Thanks again, Mandy.”
“Goodnight, Derek,” she said, letting him go after he said goodbye.
She laid down on Liz’s guest bed and replayed the entire conversation in her head. Her plans to see Derek today had backfired, leaving her drifting.
She wasn’t sure about anything anymore, but she wasn’t going to sulk about it either. It was time to figure out what she wanted in life and go after it. All of the cruises she’d taken since meeting Derek had left her feeling lonely, even while she was with others. She put on a brave face, but maybe some of her job had lost its magic.
Was she serious about her art, or was it just a way for her to see Derek again? She needed to reevaluate her life and her priorities. She loved being a companion and traveling, but maybe it was time to settle down and get a real grownup job.
She’d follow-up with The Edge tomorrow and see if they’d made a decision to put her permanently on the Tropical Line. It was worth a shot.
“I know you had some for lunch, but gelato might be an improvement on our sundaes for breakfast talks.” Liz sat next to Mandy on the couch and handed Mandy a carton of berry flavored gelato. “You’ve been cryptic about Derek. I want to hear all about him.”
“Where’s Tyler tonight?” Mandy asked. She dug into her gelato and the flavor melted in her mouth.
“He’s out with his agent and a few others from the publishing house, hashing through some of the details of his next book.” Liz looked up from her caramel gelato and eyed Mandy. “We have all night for you to tell me the full story. Don’t leave anything out.”
Mandy didn’t realize until that moment how much she’d missed Liz since Liz had gotten married. Sure, Mandy had been traveling extensively since then, but she’d missed the way Liz picked up on things, little clues and nuances.
So, Mandy started from the beginning, how his shadow blocked her sun, to saying goodbye on the cruise and him never calling since. Until today. “I went to this restaurant that he’d talked a lot about on the cruise. I can’t even tell you how many times he mentioned that he always went there alone on Wednesdays.” Mandy shrugged. “So, today is Wednesday, and I thought I’d go.”
“That has to mean something—that he called today, while you’re in town.” Liz sat up straighter.
“Only that he thought he saw me at the restaurant.”
Liz raised her eyebrows. “And why didn’t you go up to him and say hi again?”
Mandy twirled the colorful gelato spoon in her hand. “He was with someone else. A pretty brunette in a red power suit.” It wasn’t that he was with someone else but the sudden realization that she really wasn’t his type. At all. “I can’t compete with that.”
Liz bit her lip. “But saying hi—I mean he’s your client’s grandson.”
“I know. I couldn’t do it.” Mandy put a hand to her head. She could have said hello. “They were so focused on each other. He said he always came to this restaurant alone, so I assumed going alone would work, but if I’d said hi, I would have just looked pathetic.”
“So, you’re not going to get together with him on this trip? Not even just to say hi?”
Mandy shrugged. What would be the point? She didn’t keep in touch with everyone. The reason she wanted to see him was to see if there was something between them. Lunch pretty much answered that question.
“Maybe it’s just bad timing. And next time you come for a visit, maybe things could work out,” Liz said soothingly.
Mandy nodded, but no matter how much she’d loved New York and its sights and visiting Liz and Tyler, she wouldn’t come back until she was completely one hundred percent over Derek. So it might be a long time.
Derek ran his fingers through this hair. He’d taken Grams’ advice and called Mandy, and all it did was solidify the fact that there was nothing between them from Mandy’s side. She wouldn’t admit she’d been the one he’d seen today. Maybe it was just another mirage.
Adam had said that the only way she’d receive payments for the art was for him to talk to her directly. But that hadn’t worked either. Why couldn’t she just accept a check? Stubborn woman.
She’d been cool on the phone. No emotion. No nothing. But what had he expected? They weren’t on the cruise, and she wasn’t concerned about making a good impression on Grams anymore.
So where did that leave him? She didn’t owe him anything. The words she’d written in her notebook still stung. She had put up with him on the cruise, but there wasn’t hope for a relationship after it, even if he was still thinking about her.
It was time to move on.
Maybe time at Martha’s Vineyard was exactly what he needed.
He called Grams and his secretary and had them set everything up. He’d take two days off and clear his head. No more seeing Mandy when she wasn’t there. No more blowing client meetings because his heart was on a cruise with the most beautiful woman he’d ever known. It was time to focus.
Chapter Twenty-Two<
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Mandy walked into the lobby of The Edge the next morning with a copy of her portfolio in hand. She walked confidently up to the reception desk to announce herself. She only had a fifteen-minute appointment, but she was thirty minutes early for it, just in case.
The woman sitting at the desk took Mandy’s name and gestured for her to take a seat. She took in the surroundings that would soon become familiar to her. The lobby set the tone for the graphic design company. Angles and decorative swoops graced every piece of furniture.
She patted her portfolio. Everything she needed was in it. She didn’t need to sort through anything and look unprofessional while she waited. She picked up a book of the company’s designs off the table next to her—Everything is Cutting at The Edge. She thumbed through it, reading headlines, but mostly taking in the artistry. She belonged here.
“Miss Jones?” A woman called her name. “Georgia will see you now.” Mandy followed Georgia’s secretary down the hall to the large corner office.
“It’s nice to finally meet you.” Mandy shook Georgia’s hand.
“Of course it is,” Georgia said, looking over her bright yellow-rimmed glasses. Her black hair was styled with product into a swoop that looked like it’d been carved. She was abstract art personified. “You have fifteen minutes. What can I do for you?”
Mandy jumped right in. “I’m one of your freelance artists—”
“Miss Jones, I don’t think you understand. You have fifteen full minutes of my time. That may not seem like much, but it’s more than I give most freelance artists.”
“Right.” She handed her portfolio to Georgia and watched as she turned each page of her mockups she wanted to submit for the Tropical Line.
The minutes ticked on and Mandy wasn’t sure if she should talk or explain or if Georgia would ask questions if she had any. She finally decided to not say anything.
Georgia closed the portfolio in front of her, her leopard print nails clicked on top of it. “It’s obvious you are very talented. What do you want?”
“I-I want to be the lead artist on the Tropical Line.” Mandy smiled brightly, hoping it didn’t come off like a cringe.
Georgia’s penetrating gaze took in all of Mandy. Then she handed the portfolio back to Mandy. “At this time it doesn’t make sense for us to outsource the Tropical Line to a freelance artist. You can still contribute your ideas to it, of course, but we won’t be changing our current process. I’m sorry.”
Confusion swirled around Mandy like a paintbrush that hadn’t been properly cleaned. She sucked in a breath. “I thought it was open to freelance artists.” That had been the whole reason she’d worked through all of her breaks and her weekends she didn’t travel. And that was why she set up this meeting in the first place.
“We’re looking for artists who are here for the long haul. Your work is highly sought after, but we need someone committed, and that’s clearly not you.”
Mandy rubbed her forehead, feeling sick. Why did she expect The Edge to give her the position when they could pay for the individual designs they wanted?
Georgia cleared her throat. “We will have other lines and more freelance work. You’re always welcome to take as many of them as you want.”
“Thanks,” she said sullenly. Freelance work had never been a let-down before. She loved the flexibility of it, but Derek’s insinuation that she couldn’t hack it in New York hit her full force.
Mandy stood. Her fifteen minutes weren’t up, but there wasn’t a point to wasting Georgia’s time. “Can I ask a final question?”
“Of course.” Georgia steepled her fingers.
“Why did you agree to meet with me, if you weren’t going to offer me a job?”
Georgia laughed. “You asked for a meeting on the phone, not an offer. I always make sure I make time to meet with my artists.”
Mandy tightened her grip on her portfolio. “Thank you for your time.”
“I look forward to seeing more great work from you in the future,” Georgia said.
Mandy changed out of her pencil skirt and blazer. She thought the professional look would be impressive, but after seeing the way Georgia threw on colors and patterns, she knew she looked too stuffy.
“How did it go?” Liz asked.
“It didn’t,” Mandy said, relating the whole story to Liz. “I need a distraction today. I don’t care where we go.”
Liz smiled brightly. “I have the perfect place to cheer you up.”
They walked for a while, meandering through Central Park and then through several streets. “Where are we?” Mandy asked Liz, looking up at a tall building in the Financial District. “Is this where Tyler works?”
“No. This is the Thompson building.”
Mandy’s eyes widened. They weren’t here. Surely Liz wasn’t expecting her to stand outside of Derek’s building like a teenage stalker. This wasn’t happening. “When I said I didn’t care where we went, that didn’t include here.” Who was Mandy kidding? She wasn’t over him, but she wouldn’t see him. She couldn’t.
“Hear me out,” Liz said. “Last night after we talked I did some google searching. Just to get an idea of where Derek worked. Their lobby boasts amazing artwork. I figured you wouldn’t pass up seeing an original Shorvan now, would you?”
“He’s in the middle of his workday. I can’t show up unannounced.” Her heart raced, and she smoothed her summer dress down. The flower print was loud and bright. She had dressed to be comfortable in the blazing New York summer heat, not for a business meeting.
“We’re not going to see him. We’re just going to admire the Shorvan and then get some lunch. Simple? Simple.”
Mandy nodded, but her heart still pounded. This was not going to be simple. She pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head and went through the glass doors. Once her eyes adjusted to the inside, she gasped. “Look at this art!” She barely kept herself from squealing. “This is incredible.” Her stress from earlier melted away as she made her way to the center where the Shorvan was displayed under brilliant spotlights. A velvet rope created a barrier around the piece, which was a good thing because her artist fingers wanted to caress the beautiful painting. She stood there for several minutes.
“You like this one?” Liz asked.
Shorvan was a master. A contemporary that had found his place among the greats through history. Yeah. She liked it. The movement, the colors, the lighting. “It’s amazing. The original is full of depth and texture that you don’t experience in the prints.” His lines were thick and messy in some areas, adding to the beauty of it. The style was deliberate yet intriguing.
“Don’t you have a similar one in your room?”
“Only a small 8x10 print. It’s not even on canvas and it was over $1,000. I can’t even imagine what a piece this size is worth.” She knew though. Some were over seven figures. How had Derek never mentioned he owned a Shorvan? She had mentioned her love of his work on the cruise.
She and Liz moved to another painting on the wall and still another. Mandy studied the color and the lines, aware how the art created this office space. Floor to ceiling windows graced the vaulted lobby, allowing in natural light. The white marble floors had dark marble designs cut into it. The art hung on perfect arctic white walls, lending every focus to art.
She stood back from one for a while, trying to figure it out. The abstract contemporary piece boasted compelling swirls that jumped between waves pulling a countryside together with a bustling big city.
Wild colors shouted from the different ends of the canvas to be noticed first, but the middle where the ocean swallowed up both of the scenes, until it was just a mixture of color blending what could have been, held Mandy’s attention. In the middle was a world of possibilities, and the artist had left it in an undefined state. She stepped closer, finally reading the title, “Oceans between us.”
The picture spoke to her, and she wished she could capture everything she felt about it, but mostly she thought about Derek. He had th
is painting—could it mean something to him too? Maybe there was an explanation that she missed. A reason why he’d finally called her last night.
Mandy blinked and looked around for Liz. She was over at the main desk on the opposite side of the room. Mandy forced herself to move past the other paintings with only a quick glance and made her way over to the desk.
“I’m ready for lunch when you are,” Mandy said.
Liz smiled. “You’ll never guess what I found out? Mr. Thompson doesn’t ever take walk-in appointments.”
Mandy pulled on Liz’s elbow, moving her away from the desk. “He has a line of secretaries and assistants to screen people first. He works long hours and needs to stay productive.”
“But if he knew you were here, he’d probably be able to make time.” Liz’s smile was too sweet to just now come to that conclusion.
Mandy cringed. “You didn’t?”
“Not exactly. I only asked about the protocol. Apparently any time they get a question about him, his personal assistant comes down to greet them.”
“Screen them more like. Let’s leave before Adam gets down here.” Mandy felt like an intruder, or at least someone who’d overstayed their welcome. Maybe they could come back after lunch, and she could admire the rest of the art. She looked over her shoulder for one last look at the Shorvan and saw a man in a dark suit talking to the desk receptionist. She pointed in their direction, and Mandy knew she couldn’t run.
He caught up with them quickly. “You were asking after Mr. Thompson?” he asked, addressing Liz.
Liz smiled, shaking his hand. “I was curious about his art choices.”
The man smiled at her. “Unfortunately, Mr. Thompson is not available for comment at the present time, but I’d be happy to explain his choices to you. I’ve been trained to answer all questions about the gallery and the pieces in it.”
“Oh, that’s all right, I’m sure Adam has more important things to do than show us around,” Mandy said.
The man quirked his head toward Mandy, looking at her for the first time then paused. “Miss Jones?”
