Eventually, the next set of attendees made their way to Claire and Tony. When dinner was announced, Claire was relieved beyond words. She’d played her role well -- very well. Even Tony complimented her regarding the Shedis-tics couple. Nevertheless, her body ached from standing in high heels and the stress. The act of sitting was a welcome relief.
At one point, before the speeches, Claire excused herself to visit the ladies room. She expected a warning glance or gesture. Surprisingly, she received neither. All the way to the restroom she considered borrowing someone’s cellphone and calling Harry. The problem was -- she didn’t know his number. She called it multiple times a day. But, the number was programmed into her phone. After racking her memory, she gave up and made her way back to her new assigned seat.
On her way to Tony, she passed the round table where she should have been sitting. Claire noticed three empty seats. It was the only table within the large room with so many vacancies. The Cunninghams, Derek Burke and another couple were politely chatting. Claire moved quickly, to avoid another conversation with Hilary Cunningham.
*****
Sophia believed she’d suffocate if she spent another minute in the beautiful sitting room of the Saint Regis’ Presidential Suite waiting for the mystery buyer. Walking through French doors onto a balcony she observed the lights of the Golden Gate Bridge. Although almost the end of May, the evening air was brisk against her exposed skin. Mindlessly she wrapped her arms around her chest and dissected the view, as only an artist can do. The towers glowed more orange than gold, she thought as she as she viewed the illumination from Route One.
She stood motionless at the rail and inhaled the salty air. It wasn’t the same as Provincetown. There was something about Provincetown Harbor which was unique from San Francisco Bay. Nevertheless, closing her eyes and listening to the distant rush of waves, the similarities made her homesick. She glanced at her watch, almost nine thirty.
She and Mr. George had been in this suite both alone and with Mr. Hensley for an hour and a half. Though she’d communicated with Derek regularly, she knew he was upset. He should be, she reasoned. This was ridiculous and rude.
Sophia even felt sorry for Mr. Hensley. The poor man was doing his job. It truly wasn’t his fault his employer was delayed. The first excuse was about traffic on 280. When eight thirty came and went, Mr. Hensley kindly ordered them dinner. At eight forty five they fired up Mr. Hensley’s lap top and virtually viewed Sophia’s art. At nine fifteen Mr. Hensley received a text message and excused himself from the suite.
Now Sophia and Mr. George continued to wait. The night air helped relieve Sophia’s distress. Although she hadn’t been looking forward to Derek’s big gala, she knew how much it meant to him. He’d been anxiously anticipating spending this time with his boss and Mr. Cunningham’s wife. He was also very excited to meet the CEO of Shedis-tic’s parent company. He’d told Sophia his name and Hilary Cunningham had gone on about a woman named Nichols, but currently the CEO’s name escaped Sophia. More than anything she wanted to be back in that crowded, pretentious ballroom.
“Mrs. Burke, I apologize for this inconvenience.” Mr. George was now on the balcony too.
“I don’t blame you. It’s just that my husband is so close, and I should be with him.”
“Mrs. Burke, if this weren’t important, I wouldn’t have asked you to be here.”
“Do we even know the name of this mysterious buyer?”
Mr. George rubbed his temple. “No, Mr. Hensley is the one I’ve been dealing with.”
They both turned, upon hearing the door to the suite open. Mr. Hensley entered. When it was clear he was alone, they both exhaled and moved to join him within the suite. His voice was more assured. “I cannot adequately express my sincere apologies regarding this horrid meeting. Circumstances beyond anyone’s control have delayed my employer. He would, however, like to offer an olive branch.”
Sophia and Mr. George didn’t reply. It had been a long evening.
Mr. Hensley continued, “If you two could please have a seat. My employer would like to fund an exhibition of your work, Mrs. Burke. He was thinking of an exhibition which would run in multiple cities, in succession.”
Mr. George and Sophia sat. Her tired mind spun with this new offer. First, this mysterious man paid 2.3 million dollars for three of her paintings and now, he wanted to fund a moving exhibit. She momentarily forgot about Derek and the gala. Her thoughts now centered upon Mr. Hensley and the papers before him.
Eric went on, “Mr. George, commission of all sales at all locations would be directed through you. Mrs. Burke, if we could take a few minutes to discuss possible locations?”
Sophia nodded. She wasn’t sure her voice could sound composed.
*****
When the final speaker concluded, the MC from earlier came to the podium and announced, “Ladies and gentleman, the orchestra will be in place soon. If everyone could please make their way back out to the atrium, dancing will commence in less than a half an hour.”
Claire looked down at her watch. It was only nine-forty, but she was exhausted. If this were Harry she’d let him know. But it wasn’t. She was back to weighing each word. “Are we staying for dancing?”
Tony leaned closer, his eyebrows raised, “Do you want to dance?”
“No, I really don’t. I’m tired and I’d like to go home. If I could have my phone I’ll call for the SiJo car.”
Tony leaned back against his chair. His lack of response caused Claire’s skin to crawl. The contrary emotions his actions elicited made her feel as though she were with two different men. One minute he was courteous and social, the next he was his old domineering, controlling self. She tried to remain obedient. With each passing minute her insolence increased. Finally, she leaned toward him, smile glistening. From afar they appeared to be having a friendly chat. Claire’s voice betrayed her current emotions; she could only restrain them visually, audibly was too much. Her voice cracked as she questioned, “Have I done everything you asked?”
At one point, before the speeches, Claire excused herself to visit the ladies room. She expected a warning glance or gesture. Surprisingly, she received neither. All the way to the restroom she considered borrowing someone’s cellphone and calling Harry. The problem was -- she didn’t know his number. She called it multiple times a day. But, the number was programmed into her phone. After racking her memory, she gave up and made her way back to her new assigned seat.
On her way to Tony, she passed the round table where she should have been sitting. Claire noticed three empty seats. It was the only table within the large room with so many vacancies. The Cunninghams, Derek Burke and another couple were politely chatting. Claire moved quickly, to avoid another conversation with Hilary Cunningham.
*****
Sophia believed she’d suffocate if she spent another minute in the beautiful sitting room of the Saint Regis’ Presidential Suite waiting for the mystery buyer. Walking through French doors onto a balcony she observed the lights of the Golden Gate Bridge. Although almost the end of May, the evening air was brisk against her exposed skin. Mindlessly she wrapped her arms around her chest and dissected the view, as only an artist can do. The towers glowed more orange than gold, she thought as she as she viewed the illumination from Route One.
She stood motionless at the rail and inhaled the salty air. It wasn’t the same as Provincetown. There was something about Provincetown Harbor which was unique from San Francisco Bay. Nevertheless, closing her eyes and listening to the distant rush of waves, the similarities made her homesick. She glanced at her watch, almost nine thirty.
She and Mr. George had been in this suite both alone and with Mr. Hensley for an hour and a half. Though she’d communicated with Derek regularly, she knew he was upset. He should be, she reasoned. This was ridiculous and rude.
Sophia even felt sorry for Mr. Hensley. The poor man was doing his job. It truly wasn’t his fault his employer was delayed. The first excuse was about traffic on 280. When eight thirty came and went, Mr. Hensley kindly ordered them dinner. At eight forty five they fired up Mr. Hensley’s lap top and virtually viewed Sophia’s art. At nine fifteen Mr. Hensley received a text message and excused himself from the suite.
Now Sophia and Mr. George continued to wait. The night air helped relieve Sophia’s distress. Although she hadn’t been looking forward to Derek’s big gala, she knew how much it meant to him. He’d been anxiously anticipating spending this time with his boss and Mr. Cunningham’s wife. He was also very excited to meet the CEO of Shedis-tic’s parent company. He’d told Sophia his name and Hilary Cunningham had gone on about a woman named Nichols, but currently the CEO’s name escaped Sophia. More than anything she wanted to be back in that crowded, pretentious ballroom.
“Mrs. Burke, I apologize for this inconvenience.” Mr. George was now on the balcony too.
“I don’t blame you. It’s just that my husband is so close, and I should be with him.”
“Mrs. Burke, if this weren’t important, I wouldn’t have asked you to be here.”
“Do we even know the name of this mysterious buyer?”
Mr. George rubbed his temple. “No, Mr. Hensley is the one I’ve been dealing with.”
They both turned, upon hearing the door to the suite open. Mr. Hensley entered. When it was clear he was alone, they both exhaled and moved to join him within the suite. His voice was more assured. “I cannot adequately express my sincere apologies regarding this horrid meeting. Circumstances beyond anyone’s control have delayed my employer. He would, however, like to offer an olive branch.”
Sophia and Mr. George didn’t reply. It had been a long evening.
Mr. Hensley continued, “If you two could please have a seat. My employer would like to fund an exhibition of your work, Mrs. Burke. He was thinking of an exhibition which would run in multiple cities, in succession.”
Mr. George and Sophia sat. Her tired mind spun with this new offer. First, this mysterious man paid 2.3 million dollars for three of her paintings and now, he wanted to fund a moving exhibit. She momentarily forgot about Derek and the gala. Her thoughts now centered upon Mr. Hensley and the papers before him.
Eric went on, “Mr. George, commission of all sales at all locations would be directed through you. Mrs. Burke, if we could take a few minutes to discuss possible locations?”
Sophia nodded. She wasn’t sure her voice could sound composed.
*****
When the final speaker concluded, the MC from earlier came to the podium and announced, “Ladies and gentleman, the orchestra will be in place soon. If everyone could please make their way back out to the atrium, dancing will commence in less than a half an hour.”
Claire looked down at her watch. It was only nine-forty, but she was exhausted. If this were Harry she’d let him know. But it wasn’t. She was back to weighing each word. “Are we staying for dancing?”
Tony leaned closer, his eyebrows raised, “Do you want to dance?”
“No, I really don’t. I’m tired and I’d like to go home. If I could have my phone I’ll call for the SiJo car.”
Tony leaned back against his chair. His lack of response caused Claire’s skin to crawl. The contrary emotions his actions elicited made her feel as though she were with two different men. One minute he was courteous and social, the next he was his old domineering, controlling self. She tried to remain obedient. With each passing minute her insolence increased. Finally, she leaned toward him, smile glistening. From afar they appeared to be having a friendly chat. Claire’s voice betrayed her current emotions; she could only restrain them visually, audibly was too much. Her voice cracked as she questioned, “Have I done everything you asked?”
