Now here we were, with food the estate chef had prepped for me heating in the oven.
“Are we going to talk about sunset or are you going to tell me why you’re here?” I’d returned to the house just as the sky darkened to find Allegra had made herself at home. Four pairs of shoes now sat at the front door. Her laptop was on the coffee table, her e-reader plugged in near the couch. The fireplace was roaring and there were crumbs all over the kitchen island.
I’d spent most of my day distracted and worried about why she’d come.
“Do Mamma and Dad know you’re here?”
“Are you just going to fire question after question at me?” Allegra’s large dark eyes glimmered with amusement, but I saw the weariness buried in them too.
“Ally.”
She sighed heavily. “No, they don’t know.”
Our mother was staying in our New York apartment because she loved the city at this time of year. Dad was on the set of a movie in Vancouver.
It was my turn to exhale slowly. “So … what brings you here without telling our parents?”
“Will you sit?” She patted the bench beside her. “I have something to show you.”
Warily, I padded over in bare feet. The first thing I usually did upon arriving home was change out of my constricting pencil skirt and button-down shirt. But I’d been too impatient to talk to Allegra. I shimmied in beside her as she lifted her phone off the table and tapped the screen.
“I’ve been keeping a secret.” Her voice trembled with nervousness, and I felt answering butterflies in my belly.
“Okay …”
Allegra licked her lips and clutched her phone to her chest. Our eyes met and hers almost pleaded with me. “I created a social media account under an alias and started sharing art on it.”
“Okay,” I repeated.
“And the account kind of blew up.” Her eyes widened. “Like, I’ve been selling my stuff online and making an absolute mint.”
Surprise rocked me, along with pride and relief. “But … that’s amazing! Let me see.”
My little sister seemed to deflate, her sweet smile slow but growing bigger by the second. Finally, she shoved her phone at me. I took it and scrolled through the feed of her alias, Lucy Stella.
“The name is a take on Italian for starlight,” she explained.
Luce stellare.
And I understood why when I saw her work. “Is this glass?”
“Yeah, and mixed media.”
Awe filled me as I looked at piece after piece of the most exquisite glass art. She’d used paint, metallic foils, glitter, and precious stones on glass to create abstract pieces that shimmered and glimmered like pieces of the universe. “I want one,” I said immediately. “I’ve been looking for a piece for the living room.” Gesturing to a blank space near the entrance to the sitting room, I continued, “A framed piece of glass would look perfect there.”
“Really?” Allegra bit her lip even as she grinned. “You like them?”
“Ally, how can you even ask?” I waved the phone at her. “This is extraordinary.”
“Galleries in San Francisco and Seattle approached me.”
More pride swelled. “I’m not even surprised.”
“My larger pieces have sold for five grand.”
My jaw dropped. “Are you kidding me?”
Allegra shook her head. “I’m making real money from my art, Ari. That’s why I’m here. I … you know your opinion means more to me than Mamma’s or Daddy’s. The whole point of art school was to learn how to do this—make a living from my art. And I’m already doing it. I want to quit school and concentrate on my art.”
Anxiety suddenly crushed my swelling pride. “Oh. Oh, Ally …” I handed back her phone. “Look, sweetie, it’s amazing that you’re doing so well and I’m so proud and in awe of you. Really.”
Her expression fell as her eyes lowered. “But you don’t think I can do this.”
“No, not that.” I gripped her free hand in mine and ducked my head so she’d have to meet my gaze. “Sweetie, art, in all its forms, can have a brief shelf life. Nothing goes through trends more than art.”
“So you’re saying people might not want my stuff in another six months?”
“No. I’m … ugh, obviously I’m saying this all wrong. I just … this beautiful glasswork could stay popular for a few months or years. No one knows, and that’s my point. Art will be a career of ups and downs. Most people don’t have careers like Dad. Look at Mom. She could only book particular kinds of jobs once she hit a certain age. Do you see what I’m saying?”
“Yeah.” Allegra looked annoyed. “You’re telling me something I already know. But whether I finish college, I’m going to be an artist, so I already know I’m looking at a career filled with peaks and valleys. What’s the difference?”
“The difference is, if you graduate from a college like Otis, you could apply for more stable positions within the art world if you need to.”
My sister looked at me as if I was naive. “What stable positions? Ari, I don’t intend to do anything but be an artist.”
I knew that.
And a part of me understood what she was saying. But the risk-averse side of me wanted my kid sister to finish college. Seeing me waver, Allegra pushed, “I want to travel and be inspired. Being here only a day has my mind whirring with ideas. I saw all this beautiful purple heather on the drive over, and I’m desperate to go out and pick some and incorporate it into the glass.”
“Right, but—”
“And I hate LA.”
I shut my mouth.
“Everyone at school seems so young. Like, they think they’re worldly, but I listen to them drone on about things they don’t even understand and they’re so privileged and immature. All they care about is how strangers view them. We go out to eat and I can’t even dig into my burger because they’re all snapping photos of the food for five fucking minutes. We go out for a drive and a picnic on the beach, and no one’s experiencing it because they’re too busy setting up the perfect shots for their social media. It makes me want to scream. And I know that sounds crazy coming from me because I know who we are. I know I’m privileged. But I don’t feel young, Ari. I feel old. And tired. And lonely. And I don’t want to feel like that. Getting on the plane to come here is the most excited I’ve felt in months.”
Well … shit.
What could I say to that? I hated LA, too, for many of the same reasons.
“Okay. You can stay for a week or two until we figure this out.”
Joy flooded her face. “Really?”
“Yes. But no promises,” I warned her. “Mamma and Dad need to know about this, and I don’t know what they’ll say.”
Allegra threw her arms around me, hugging so tight she almost choked me. “Thank you for always being there for me. And for being my Valentine this year.”
I smoothed a reassuring hand down her back, already dreading the conversation we needed to have with our parents. I didn’t let her see that, though. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Ally. No one I’d rather spend this miserable holiday with.”