by Ann Charney
But Marco, has only legal problems on his mind. “When are you coming back?” he asks. “The deportation hearing is still pending, but it could come up any day.”
“Don’t you remember? I gave a sworn statement to your lawyer before I left.”
“Right, but I wish you were here. What’s it like up there, by the way? If this goes badly for me, I may turn up in Canada as a refugee.”
“What about Sarah and the baby? For their sake, I hope it won’t come to that. Montreal is pretty nice actually. I’m thinking of trying it for a while.”
“What? Just like that?” Marco’s sharp tone indicates she has his full attention now. “What about your job and everything else? I bet it’s that guy you’ve been seeing. The artist. You know, Nerina, it’s never a good idea to follow a man. You could find yourself stranded in a strange city without a friend.”
This advice, coming from Marco, makes her laugh. “Not all men are as unreliable as you are, you know. Anyway, I haven’t made up my mind yet. And if I do decide to stay, it will be because I’ve found something that interests me, something that will make my life better, and not just because of Christophe. You’re not the only one with ambition, you know.”
“You’re up to something, aren’t you?” Marco says, suddenly suspicious. Although vague about his own activities, it annoys him when he suspects Nerina is holding out on him. “Want to try it out on me?”
She doesn’t. What she’s been thinking about since her conversation with Christophe last night feels more like a fantasy than a plan of action. Definitely not something she’s ready to talk about just yet.
“Whatever I decide, you’ll be the first to know,” she tells Marco. “I promise.”
Her answer seems to satisfy him. “I know what you mean about ambition,” he says. “If I manage to get out of this mess, I’ve made up my mind: things will be different.”
She can hear conviction in his voice, but she can’t resist teasing him. “That’s good. You don’t want your kid to have a thief for a father.”
“You realize it won’t be easy breaking with family tradition,” he says, sounding wistful. “The Gypsy blood in our veins makes it hard to live by other people’s rules.”
“Try that on the immigration authorities,” she says, losing patience. “Let me know how it works out for you next time we speak.”
XXV
Galerie Sarajevo
NERINA’S walks are no longer aimless. Equipped with the names and addresses of the Montreal galleries she found online at an Internet café, she is working her way down the list. It’s all part of a plan that she hopes will bring her closer to the goal of running her own gallery in the not too distant future.
The idea, lurking at the edges of her mind for some time now, came into sharper focus when Christophe asked her to move to Montreal with him. Everything he told her about the city’s thriving art scene, its cheap rents — the lowest of any city in North America — as well as what she has seen for herself in the last few days, has encouraged her to feel that she just might be able to pull it off.
The first step, she decided, was to speak to Walter. It had taken her hours to work up her nerve to call him, but in the end ambition overcame timidity.
“Sounds like a promising proposition,” he’d said, after carefully listening to her reasons for requesting a loan. “And don’t worry about paying me back. I’m thinking more along the lines of acting as your silent partner. I have a feeling you’re a safer bet than the stock market these days. You’ve brought me luck so far.”
Nerina doesn’t put much trust in luck, but she’s determined to live up to Walter’s faith in her. For a start, she knows she needs further training. The bits and pieces of knowledge she’s picked up from Meredith, Leo and Helena will come in handy, but what she needs is practical, handson experience to learn what running a gallery really entails. Finding the right place that will take her on as an apprentice, with the possibility of playing a more important role in the future, is crucial. She is determined to do it on her own, without the help of Christophe or Rémi.
She hasn’t come across anything suitable so far, but she’s not discouraged. The city is full of all kinds of galleries, ranging from those dealing in the work of internationally recognized artists to the modest artistrun holes in the wall. Today, she is setting out to visit several galleries in a converted industrial building in the downtown area of the city.
A couple of blocks from her destination she finds her path suddenly blocked by a noisy group of demonstrators, who are being herded by police in riot gear.
“Prince Charles and Camilla are inside the Black Watch Armoury across the street,” a man on the sidelines explains when she stops to inquire. “The protesters are denouncing the presence of British Royals in Quebec. You know, à bas la monarchie,” he adds, making the thumbsdown sign.
She wavers for a moment, wondering if she should persist and push her way through the mob. “Any idea how long they’ll be in there?” she asks.
According to her informant, the Royals are on a hitandrun schedule that does not allow for lingering at any of the stops on their daylong itinerary. “A fastmoving target is harder to hit,” he concludes with a grin.
Nerina knows he’s kidding, but she decides to walk in the opposite direction, away from the angry voices. The visit she’d planned can wait until things have quieted down.
A half hour later, she finds herself on a narrow cobblestoned street lined with ethnic restaurants and small, cheerfullooking shops. The street seems vaguely familiar; she thinks she may have passed here before, but this time her eyes are drawn to a sign she’s sure she’s never seen: Galerie Sarajevo.
She presses the doorbell and is buzzed in to a long room lined with paintings. Beyond it, she catches a glimpse of a workshop with tables and a display of frame samples on the walls. A woman with long, greying hair, dressed in denim overalls, comes out of the back room to greet her.
“We’re not really open right now,” she says, speaking English with a strong French accent. “But you’re welcome to look around if you like.”
Nerina makes a note to add another crucial item to her todo list: start learning French.
“I’m curious about the name of your place,” she says. “I was passing by and it sort of pulled me in.”
“It happens a lot, people dropping in looking for some connection. The truth is there’s none. When I opened this place in the early nineties, Sarajevo was much in the news. Terrible stories. It was my way of expressing solidarity with the besieged city. Turned out to be a lucky choice for me. I’m still here.”
It crosses Nerina’s mind that if she were to link up with the gallery, its name would no longer be merely symbolic. But she’s getting ahead of herself.
“I see that you have a framing workshop behind the gallery,” she says, trying to sound calmer than she feels. “I work in a similar kind of place in New York. Samuels’ Framers?”
“I’ve seen the name, but I don’t get to travel much. This place keeps me very busy.”
She starts to walk away and Nerina can’t think of a way to stop her. But the woman changes her mind and turns back to Nerina.
“I was just about to send out for coffee. Why don’t you join me, if you have time? I’d be interested to hear more about the place where you work. My name is Claire,” she adds, extending her hand.
While they wait for the coffee, Nerina switches the conversation back to Galerie Sarajevo. “You mentioned that you started this gallery. How did it come about?”
“It sort of happened by accident,” Claire says, pulling out a chair for Nerina while she resumes work on a metal frame on the table. “I was living with an artist at the time and I started out making frames for him and some of his friends. I was always good with my hands and I learned a lot from my papa. He was a cabinetmaker, you know. The artists talked about needing a place to show their work, and so I suggested we form a coopérative. A workshop for me and an exhibition space up fro
nt. The arrangement didn’t last very long. My boyfriend and I split up and he moved on. The other artists drifted away as well, and I soon found myself running the whole show on my own.”
“You must have done all right, seeing how long you’ve lasted,” Nerina says, hoping she’s not being too intrusive.
“It was hard going at first,” Claire replies, without any hesitation. “If I hadn’t had the framing business to fall back on, I probably wouldn’t be here now. It takes time and persistance to spot new talent and build up a client list. Once the artists become established, you must work even harder to hold on to them. It’s a cutthroat business — sauvage au bout — and it’s allconsuming.”
None of this is news to Nerina, and it sounds as if Claire could use some help. “Do you do all this on your own?” she asks, encouraged by Claire’s candour.
“I have someone to help with the frames, but it’s not easy to find people willing to work for what I can afford to pay. To tell you the truth I feel like I’m headed for a bad case of burnout. Not sure how much longer I can carry on this way.”
Nerina can scarcely believe how easily her plan is falling into place. All that remains is to convince Claire.
“This may be your lucky day,” she says, feeling that all the luck is on her side. “Let me help. I have some experience and I need a job. You see, I’m planning to move to Montreal shortly, and I don’t really know anyone here. This could be great for both of us. I have to find work and you need help.”
“Are you serious?” Claire asks, taken aback by Nerina’s outburst. “I don’t think you understand my situation. What I can offer in the way of a salary wouldn’t be enough for you to live on.”
“Let me worry about that,” Nerina says, dismissing Claire’s objection. “All I really want is a chance to learn everything I can about running a place like this. Who knows, if things work out, we could be partners down the line,” she adds, unable stop herself.
“Why me?” Claire asks, looking puzzled. “There are more successful galleries in town. Wouldn’t it make more sense to start at the top?”
“Not for me,” Nerina insists. “Yours is the sort of place I’d like to have one day. The kind that shows young artists before they’re well known. And I like that you have the framing as backup insurance.”
“I don’t know,” Claire says, searching Nerina’s face for a clue to her enthusiasm. “Maybe you should give it some more thought.”
Nerina decides to throw the last piece of the puzzle into the mix. “Would it make more sense if I told you I was born in Sarajevo? You could say it was preordained that I would find my way to your place.”
She laughs to indicate she doesn’t really believe what she just said, but Claire takes her seriously.
“What’s meant to be will always find a way,” she says.
“Is that you, or some great philosopher?” Nerina asks, pleased to see the look of suspicion on Claire’s face has given way to a smile.
“Tricia Yearwood. My favourite country and western artist,” Claire says. Coming out from behind the table she takes hold of Nerina’s hand. “All right, I’ll give it some serious thought. Come by tomorrow and we’ll talk some more. We’ll soon find out if it’s meant to be or not.”
Maybe Claire and this Yearwood woman are on to something, Nerina wonders after leaving the gallery. If Prince Charles and Camilla hadn’t been in town this day, and if a group of protesters hadn’t gathered to demonstrate against their presence in Quebec, she might have never stumbled onto Claire’s place. She had missed it somehow when compiling her list of galleries.
But she can’t really see what has just taken place as anything more than a fortuitous sequence of events. The haphazard way things happen in life — anybody’s life — may be a source of wonder, but it’s no reason to bring in the heavy hand of fate.
XXVI
A reason for everything
NERINA spends an anxious night worrying that she’s ruined her chances with Claire. The sense of elation she’d felt when she left Galerie Sarajevo has worn off, to be replaced by dismay and selfrecrimination as she reviews her behaviour. Why had she been in such a hurry to blurt out her intentions to a total stranger? Why hadn’t she been more restrained and allowed more time for the two of them to get to know each other before throwing herself at Claire? Claire must have found her pathetically desperate, or even unhinged. Definitely not collaborator material.
When she turns up for her appointment at Galerie Sarajevo the next day, she finds that Claire has also been thinking about their meeting, and seems eager to pick up their conversation where it left off.
“I believe things happen for a reason,” she says, addressing Nerina in a sober tone softened by an encouraging smile. “I don’t know if you agree with me, but I don’t think there are any accidents in life.”
Nerina feels this is nonsense — what good reason could there have been for the smashup that killed her parents, or the mortar shells and sniper bullets that terrorized her native city for four years? Right now, she doesn’t care how simpleminded Claire’s beliefs are as long as they work in her favour.
And it looks as if they do.
“I’ve been thinking about your proposal,” Claire continues. “If you still want to work here for what little I can pay you, I’m prepared to take you on and I’ll try and teach you what I know. Time will tell which one of us is getting the better part of the bargain. In the meantime, we’ll take it a day at a time.”
“Thank you,” Nerina says, restraining herself from hugging Claire. “You have no idea what this means to me. I was afraid I’d put you off yesterday with my enthusiasm.”
“Don’t worry about it. I tend to trust intuition more than words and I have a good feeling about you. I think we’re going to get along just fine.”
Nerina leaves the gallery in a state of pleasant agitation, but her thoughts soon turn towards Leo. Now that Claire has agreed to take her on as an apprentice, she feels she should warn him as soon as possible of her upcoming departure. He’ll need time to find her replacement.
“How’s your mother?” she asks, before launching into her big news.
“Not good,” Leo says, sounding discouraged. “She’s back in the hospital with a fever. Some sort of infection. The doctors are hoping to do the surgery as soon as the fever goes down.”
“You mean she’s agreed to have the operation?” Perhaps Leo was right about Helena being a bad influence.
“Right now she’s too sick to make any decisions. But the rabbi from her synagogue has been talking to her, and I think his message is sinking in.”
“What has he said that’s making a difference?” Nerina interrupts, curious to know what would change Miriam’s mind after all her resistance.
“The rabbi has simply reminded her that according to Jewish Law the saving of a life, including your own, is paramount. Instead of relying on prayers or miracles, Jews are encouraged to seek out medical treatment. She trusts her rabbi, so I’m hopeful. In the meantime, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything to Helena, just in case she takes a notion to rush back.”
“Of course not,” Nerina assures him.
Maybe now is not the best time to tell him she won’t be coming back, but she doesn’t want to leave him in the lurch the way her predecessor had.
Leo, seems to welcome the change of subject, and takes her news in stride.
“I had a feeling you’d be moving on one of these days,” he says, when she pauses for his reaction. “You’ve got brains, ambition and a talent for handling artists. I saw how quickly you made yourself indispensable to Meredith as well as in the shop. Now tell me what attracts you to this setup in Montreal.”
She starts to describe Galerie Sarajevo, but after only a few words Leo interrupts her to respond to an incoming call. “Have to take this. It’s the hospital,” he says.
When the phone rings a few minutes later, she assumes it’s Leo calling back. “Everything all right?” she asks.
Nerina is dumbfounded for a moment. “What made you think she was there?” she asks, unable to conceal her surprise.
“I kept calling her apartment, and finally her cleaning woman answered. She told me Miriam was in the hospital. Do you know anything about this?” Helena asks, sounding suspicious.
“Just heard about it from Leo,” she says, feeling there is no point in keeping her promise to him now.
“I called him as well, but got nothing out of him. As bad as the hospital. I guess this means she’s finally decided to have the surgery.” Helena pauses, waiting for confirmation from Nerina.
“I don’t know. We didn’t talk very long.” Somehow, she doesn’t think Helena will be pleased to hear that Miriam is more receptive to her rabbi than to her longlost cousin.
“Well, let’s hope for the best. I feel sort of responsible, since I really pushed her hard to have the surgery. Nothing I can do about that now, I’m afraid.”
Nerina would like to ease Helena’s mind by telling her the real reason Miriam is back in the hospital, but that would mean betraying what’s left of her promise to Leo.
Much better just to change the subject, but she can think of only one way to divert Helena’s attention away from Leo and his mother. “Can I run something by you, Helena?” she asks. “I need your advice. I’m thinking of going into the art business.”
“Really?” Helena’s voice is tinged with sarcasm. “Have you suddenly acquired talents I don’t know about? Why is it that everyone I meet these days seems to think he or she can become an artist?”
“Relax,” Nerina says, laughing. “You’ve got it wrong. I want to work with artists, not be one.”
“A recipe for heartbreak, either way,” Helena says. “But all right, you may as well tell me all about it.”
Nerina would have preferred to set out her plan in person; now, she has no choice but to finish what she’s started.
