Chapter 16

Henry

Just before six o’clock, I walk through the door at Pathways. Meadow stands near one of my favorite vases and nearly takes my breath away. She wears a fitted dark purple bandage dress that hugs her every curve. Her hair’s swept up in an elegant messy bun secured with rhinestone pins. Red strappy sandals complete her outfit.

She smiles at me and waves. “Wow, Henry! You clean up nice.”

“Thanks.” I grin, looking down at my fitted black suit. I decided to go without a tie and just leave the collar of my freshly starched white dress shirt open. “You look amazing.”

Meadow walks over and wraps her arms around me. It feels so good to be close to her body. She smells so good it makes me want to lick the exposed skin on her neck. For a second, I forget the permeating anxiety. The heavy, dreadful, annoying feelings of not being good enough. More importantly, that someone will find my art lacking and let me know about it in no uncertain terms.

“Get a room already.” Shannon pops his head out of one of the rooms.

“Hey.” I wave at him. I don’t know the guy that well, but he loves Meadow, and that’s enough for me.

His appraising gaze sweeps over me. “Black’s a good look for you, Mr. Garrison.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m sure the rich clientele will be very impressed.” Shannon considers me for a few seconds before heading toward the wine bar. “A little flirting with the geriatric set never hurt anyone.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Can I get you a drink to start off?” Shannon makes his way over to the table with a selection of wines.

“Sure, why not.” A drink would be good right now. A little alcohol induced peace.

He pours some Chardonnay and hands it to me. “White is best for this time of year.”

“How many people do… do you think will be here tonight?” I gulp my wine and welcome the burn down the back of my throat.

“I don’t have an exact count, but we did get quite a few confirmations,” she says.

“Really?”

Meadow glances around Pathways, sizing up the space. “But you never know. Some people are vacationing in the Hamptons, so we’ll just have to wait and see.”

My stomach flips over at the thought of interacting with a lot of people. What if I stutter? And if I do, what then? Laugh it off? Punch them in the face?

Shit. Why did I agree to this?

I take another sip of wine, trying to conceal how nervous I am. To calm myself, I walk around and look at my vases. Underneath the well-positioned lights at Pathways, they almost seem to glow. The 24-karat glistens in streaks of shimmering gold.

“They look beautiful.” As if I conjured up some physical support, Meadow puts her hand on my shoulder.

I pull her warmth into me. “Thank you, I hope that everyone else feels the same.”

She plants a gentle kiss on my lips, and I wish that we could be transported to another place. Another time. One where anxiety over my life’s work doesn’t exist. “I have no doubt they will.”

“Whoa! PDA! Did that actually happen?” Shannon chuckles and refills his glass. He raises it up toward us. “As they say, there’s a first time for everything.”

I lock eyes with Meadow. I want to kiss her a thousand times. But I know I have to stay focused on the showing. Instead, I stroke lightly down the side of her face, memorizing every nuance. Every curve. “This means a lot to me. Everything, really.”

A few minutes later, three women wander into the gallery. One of them is a short lady who has gone overboard with plastic surgery. All of them look like money isn’t an object judging from their diamonds to their designer dresses. I’m no expert on high fashion, but I can tell when a dress breaks the bank.

“Hi, it’s so good to see you, Edna,” Meadow says, approaching the threesome with a smile on her face.

“Thanks for the invite, this is a real treat,” Edna says. Her face barely moves, making me wonder how many injectables she’s done to get that frozen look perfected. “I’d like you to meet my good friends, Lauren and Christine.”

Meadow shakes hands with the women and looks at me. “And I’d like all of you to meet the artist, Henry Garrison.”

My heart pounds as they all turn to me in unison, their attention barreling toward me like a train. I manage to grin and say, “Hi. Thank you for coming.”

I feel myself relax when the words come out exactly right.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Henry,” Edna says. “I’m a big fan of your work. One of my friends bought a vase from you, and I’ve been jealous ever since. But tonight, I just might buy three. I like to come out on top, you see.”

The women all chuckle as if gluttony and keeping up with the Jones’s is only par for the course in their world.

“Thanks.” I chuckle only because it seems socially appropriate. The practice of buying something, especially a custom piece of art, just to outdo someone else and not because it speaks to your soul disgusts me in a way I can’t even articulate.

A couple walks into the gallery and Meadow makes a beeline to the door to greet them. My heart skips a beat. I don’t like being left alone.

“So, Henry, what’s the biggest source of inspiration for you?” Edna asks.

“Well…” I take a deep breath and turn to Meadow. She doesn’t even notice me.

Come on, Henry, you can do this.

“Well… I… I love to listen to classical music while I create, especially Bach.”

Edna’s eyes grow wide. “I love Bach! A handsome man with culture and class. Where have you been all my life?” She winks at me, but all it does is make me even more uncomfortable.

“Edna, he looks young enough to be your grandson,” Christine says. “For shame!”

Edna glares at her. “Your point being?”

“I–”

“Hush, men do it all the time.” Edna turns her attention back to me and raises her painted eyebrows. “Now, where were we?”

Meadow walks over to us. “Pardon the interruption, ladies, but I’d like Henry to meet a few newcomers.”

“Excuse me.” I follow Meadow across the room as my body floods with relief. “You saved me just in time.”

“Saved you?”

“A cougar. Or is it a lioness? Edna was trying to hit on me.”

Meadow laughs and her eyes flash fire. “You’re hot. If I were Edna’s age, I’d hit on you. Can you blame her?”

I flash a wide smile in return. She’s stingy with the compliments so I’ll take it and allow it to raise my confidence level a tad.

As the hours pass, Meadow and Shannon introduce me to very important people. At times, I feel awkward having conversations, but somehow, I manage to push through it. And best of all, I don’t stutter. My nervous energy subsides a little by the time I have my third glass of wine and have to admit that I’m really starting to enjoy myself.

A short man with thick glasses wearing a green blazer walks into the gallery, and Meadow’s smile turns into a frown. I also notice a distressed look on Shannon’s face.

I look between the two of them. “What’s the matter?”

“The devil wears green,” Shannon mutters, his nostrils flaring.

“Huh?” I don’t recognize the guy from anywhere, but then again, I don’t get out much let alone travel in the high-end art circle.

“Greg Silverman. He’s an art critic.”

“Oh.”

“I can’t stand him.” Meadow narrows her eyes, and I can tell she doesn’t like the guy. “He’s a real know-it-all.”

Greg walks over to us while Meadow tugs on her bottom lip with her teeth. “Hello, Meadow.”

“Hi.”

His beady-eyed gaze sweeps the room, taking inventory. “I’m surprised by the turnout.”

She cocks her head to one side. “I’m not. We’ve been planning this for weeks. By the way, this is the artist, Henry Garrison. Henry, Greg Silverman.”

I shake Greg’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m surprised we never met before,” Greg says. “You have a studio in SoHo, right?”

I nod.

“And you make everything yourself?”

“Of course, I start at the potter’s wheel and then I–”

Greg rudely turns his back on me and calls over his shoulder, “I’d love to hear more about your creative process, but right now, I could really use some wine.” He points to Shannon. “Can you get it for me?”

“Help yourself,” Shannon says flatly, crossing his arms over his massive chest.

Greg pours a glass of Chardonnay. “Okay, I think I’ll have a look around now.”

“Fine,” Meadow says.

Greg makes his way around the room, greeting some of the people and stopping to look at some of my vases. Something tugs at my stomach cavity. I can’t really explain it but the appearance of this person, this critic, has me tied up in knots again when I had started to do so well. I was proud of myself for the first few hours of my show. Now, I’m not so sure.

It feels like impending doom is about to darken my door. I shake my arms at the elbows, returning a nice blood flow to my limbs.

“What an asshole.” Shannon shakes his head. “The audacity of him to ask me to pour him some wine. Do I look like the help? I am the assistant manager.”

“Never mind him, tonight was a success. We’ve made record sales already, and we still have an hour to go.”

I smile at that bit of good news. “Maybe I’ll be able to pay my higher rent after all.”

Meadow wraps her arms around me. “And this is just the beginning. With the impression you made with our clientele tonight, I have a feeling you’ll be buying the entire building soon.”

Across the room, Edna blows a kiss at me. Meadow grins. “Don’t look now. She’s coming over to claim her prize.”

“Oh no!” But instead of feeling threatened, I chuckle.

“Be nice to her, she bought four vases! Two for herself and two for gifts.”

Edna’s starting to look better to me, like I’m wearing a new pair of beer goggles and she’s an ugly chick at bar close. “That’s awesome.”

Shannon pours wine for all three of us. “Let’s have a toast! To Henry!”

“Here, here!” Meadow smiles, lifting her glass toward mine.

We all clink, and I take a sip. I can’t believe how great everything turned out. I’m so glad I came out of my shell and agreed to do the showing. Not only did it help my career, but it also helped connect me to my soulmate… even if she doesn’t know it yet.

But she will. I know it.