Camilla had just returned from a quick circuit around the front room. She peered at Rory’s face, frowning. “What’s wrong? Something is, isn’t it?”
“No. I’m just a little tense about the opening. And tired. The last few weeks have been such a blur, getting the invitations out, organizing the food and the music, working with all the artists to get the installations just right. It’s been a lot.”
“But you’re finished now. And just look at it. I can’t believe what you’ve done here. The colors and clean lines. The way you’ve used light to create a mood. It feels so . . . dramatic and yet calm too. You’ve managed the perfect blend of elegant and artsy.”
Rory waited for the inevitable but, followed by a list of things she would have done differently. But it’s a little . . . Perhaps you could have . . . Did you ever consider . . . They didn’t come. Her mother just stood there, smiling.
“Thank you. Are you ready to see the rest?”
“Lead the way. We want to see everything.”
Rory walked them through each of the seven collections, referring them to Plexiglas wall placards featuring each artist’s bio and photograph. Along the way, she pointed out her favorite pieces, explaining the specific types of media and techniques used to create them. It was good practice, and she was happy to find the talking points she’d memorized came easily.
She ended with her favorite collection, Kendra Paterson’s sea glass pieces, which turned out to be her mother’s favorite, too, particularly the large wave sculpture titled Crest. It was an absolute showstopper—an ocean wave created from thousands of sea-weathered shards ranging in color from frosty white and pale foam green to inky kelp and every shade in between.
“It’s just breathtaking,” Camilla sighed. “And such clever work. I can’t imagine the patience something like this requires, not to mention the pure skill involved. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”
Rory was beyond pleased with her mother’s reaction to what she considered the pièce de résistance of all seven collections. “That’s what I thought too. I found her by accident, through another of my artists, and I’m thrilled to have her on board for the opening.”
Soline was moving slowly around the plinth, her gloved hands clasped before her, as if to stop herself from reaching out and touching. “The longer you look at it, the more it seems to be moving, like an actual wave. Does the artist know how many pieces of glass she uses for each sculpture?”
“She used to, but she’s stopped counting as her pieces got larger and more involved. But every shard of glass is collected by hand by her and her husband. They travel to beaches all over the world. You wouldn’t believe her studio. It’s filled—”
“Aurora? Honey?” Camilla’s voice drifted from the other side of gallery. “What’s supposed to be here?”
Her mother had wandered off while she and Soline were talking, but Rory knew without turning that she was referring to the blank wall where Dheera Petri’s acrylic pieces should have been. “I had an artist pull out the day before yesterday.”
“Oh no. That’s terrible. And not very fair so close to the opening.”
Rory shrugged, trying to play down her disappointment. “She got an offer from a decorator for all but two of her paintings, and I couldn’t stand in the way of the sale. So now I have a wall to fill with just eight days to go. I could probably fill it with one-offs. I’d have to take out one of the pod walls and shift the installations, then change all the lighting, but I can get it done in time. It’s just not what I wanted for the opening. I’ve got a few more days, though, so I haven’t completely given up.”
“You know,” Soline said, eyeing the empty wall thoughtfully, “I know an artist whose work would be perfect. Very . . . original. It’s short notice and she’s terribly busy right now, but I think I might be able to twist her arm. She owes me a favor.”
Rory nearly shouted for joy. She had no idea Soline had connections in the art world. Her fairy godmother was about to come through again. “Is she local? Please say yes.”
“Quite local.”
“Could you call her? I’ll meet her anywhere she wants.”
Soline offered one of her quizzical smiles. “I’m talking about you, Rory, about your art. It’s exactly the thing for that wall, a perfect segue from the sea glass pieces. And you wouldn’t have to move anything.”