Mandy walked into the lobby of The Edge the next morning with a copy of her portfolio in hand. She walked confidently up to the reception desk to announce herself. She only had a fifteen-minute appointment, but she was thirty minutes early for it, just in case.

The woman sitting at the desk took Mandy’s name and gestured for her to take a seat. She took in the surroundings that would soon become familiar to her. The lobby set the tone for the graphic design company. Angles and decorative swoops graced every piece of furniture.

She patted her portfolio. Everything she needed was in it. She didn’t need to sort through anything and look unprofessional while she waited. She picked up a book of the company’s designs off the table next to her—Everything is Cutting at The Edge. She thumbed through it, reading headlines, but mostly taking in the artistry. She belonged here.

“Miss Jones?” A woman called her name. “Georgia will see you now.” Mandy followed Georgia’s secretary down the hall to the large corner office.

“It’s nice to finally meet you.” Mandy shook Georgia’s hand.

“Of course it is,” Georgia said, looking over her bright yellow-rimmed glasses. Her black hair was styled with product into a swoop that looked like it’d been carved. She was abstract art personified. “You have fifteen minutes. What can I do for you?”

Mandy jumped right in. “I’m one of your freelance artists—”

“Miss Jones, I don’t think you understand. You have fifteen full minutes of my time. That may not seem like much, but it’s more than I give most freelance artists.”

“Right.” She handed her portfolio to Georgia and watched as she turned each page of her mockups she wanted to submit for the Tropical Line.

The minutes ticked on and Mandy wasn’t sure if she should talk or explain or if Georgia would ask questions if she had any. She finally decided to not say anything.

Georgia closed the portfolio in front of her, her leopard print nails clicked on top of it. “It’s obvious you are very talented. What do you want?”

“I-I want to be the lead artist on the Tropical Line.” Mandy smiled brightly, hoping it didn’t come off like a cringe.

Georgia’s penetrating gaze took in all of Mandy. Then she handed the portfolio back to Mandy. “At this time it doesn’t make sense for us to outsource the Tropical Line to a freelance artist. You can still contribute your ideas to it, of course, but we won’t be changing our current process. I’m sorry.”

Confusion swirled around Mandy like a paintbrush that hadn’t been properly cleaned. She sucked in a breath. “I thought it was open to freelance artists.” That had been the whole reason she’d worked through all of her breaks and her weekends she didn’t travel. And that was why she set up this meeting in the first place.

“We’re looking for artists who are here for the long haul. Your work is highly sought after, but we need someone committed, and that’s clearly not you.”

Mandy rubbed her forehead, feeling sick. Why did she expect The Edge to give her the position when they could pay for the individual designs they wanted?

Georgia cleared her throat. “We will have other lines and more freelance work. You’re always welcome to take as many of them as you want.”

“Thanks,” she said sullenly. Freelance work had never been a let-down before. She loved the flexibility of it, but Derek’s insinuation that she couldn’t hack it in New York hit her full force.

Mandy stood. Her fifteen minutes weren’t up, but there wasn’t a point to wasting Georgia’s time. “Can I ask a final question?”

“Of course.” Georgia steepled her fingers.

“Why did you agree to meet with me, if you weren’t going to offer me a job?”

Georgia laughed. “You asked for a meeting on the phone, not an offer. I always make sure I make time to meet with my artists.”

Mandy tightened her grip on her portfolio. “Thank you for your time.”

“I look forward to seeing more great work from you in the future,” Georgia said.

* * *

Mandy changed out of her pencil skirt and blazer. She thought the professional look would be impressive, but after seeing the way Georgia threw on colors and patterns, she knew she looked too stuffy.

“How did it go?” Liz asked.

“It didn’t,” Mandy said, relating the whole story to Liz. “I need a distraction today. I don’t care where we go.”

Liz smiled brightly. “I have the perfect place to cheer you up.”

They walked for a while, meandering through Central Park and then through several streets. “Where are we?” Mandy asked Liz, looking up at a tall building in the Financial District. “Is this where Tyler works?”

“No. This is the Thompson building.”

Mandy’s eyes widened. They weren’t here. Surely Liz wasn’t expecting her to stand outside of Derek’s building like a teenage stalker. This wasn’t happening. “When I said I didn’t care where we went, that didn’t include here.” Who was Mandy kidding? She wasn’t over him, but she wouldn’t see him. She couldn’t.

“Hear me out,” Liz said. “Last night after we talked I did some google searching. Just to get an idea of where Derek worked. Their lobby boasts amazing artwork. I figured you wouldn’t pass up seeing an original Shorvan now, would you?”

“He’s in the middle of his workday. I can’t show up unannounced.” Her heart raced, and she smoothed her summer dress down. The flower print was loud and bright. She had dressed to be comfortable in the blazing New York summer heat, not for a business meeting.

“We’re not going to see him. We’re just going to admire the Shorvan and then get some lunch. Simple? Simple.”

Mandy nodded, but her heart still pounded. This was not going to be simple. She pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head and went through the glass doors. Once her eyes adjusted to the inside, she gasped. “Look at this art!” She barely kept herself from squealing. “This is incredible.” Her stress from earlier melted away as she made her way to the center where the Shorvan was displayed under brilliant spotlights. A velvet rope created a barrier around the piece, which was a good thing because her artist fingers wanted to caress the beautiful painting. She stood there for several minutes.

“You like this one?” Liz asked.

Shorvan was a master. A contemporary that had found his place among the greats through history. Yeah. She liked it. The movement, the colors, the lighting. “It’s amazing. The original is full of depth and texture that you don’t experience in the prints.” His lines were thick and messy in some areas, adding to the beauty of it. The style was deliberate yet intriguing.

“Don’t you have a similar one in your room?”

“Only a small 8x10 print. It’s not even on canvas and it was over $1,000. I can’t even imagine what a piece this size is worth.” She knew though. Some were over seven figures. How had Derek never mentioned he owned a Shorvan? She had mentioned her love of his work on the cruise.

She and Liz moved to another painting on the wall and still another. Mandy studied the color and the lines, aware how the art created this office space. Floor to ceiling windows graced the vaulted lobby, allowing in natural light. The white marble floors had dark marble designs cut into it. The art hung on perfect arctic white walls, lending every focus to art.

She stood back from one for a while, trying to figure it out. The abstract contemporary piece boasted compelling swirls that jumped between waves pulling a countryside together with a bustling big city.

Wild colors shouted from the different ends of the canvas to be noticed first, but the middle where the ocean swallowed up both of the scenes, until it was just a mixture of color blending what could have been, held Mandy’s attention. In the middle was a world of possibilities, and the artist had left it in an undefined state. She stepped closer, finally reading the title, “Oceans between us.”

The picture spoke to her, and she wished she could capture everything she felt about it, but mostly she thought about Derek. He had this painting—could it mean something to him too? Maybe there was an explanation that she missed. A reason why he’d finally called her last night.

Mandy blinked and looked around for Liz. She was over at the main desk on the opposite side of the room. Mandy forced herself to move past the other paintings with only a quick glance and made her way over to the desk.

“I’m ready for lunch when you are,” Mandy said.

Liz smiled. “You’ll never guess what I found out? Mr. Thompson doesn’t ever take walk-in appointments.”

Mandy pulled on Liz’s elbow, moving her away from the desk. “He has a line of secretaries and assistants to screen people first. He works long hours and needs to stay productive.”

“But if he knew you were here, he’d probably be able to make time.” Liz’s smile was too sweet to just now come to that conclusion.

Mandy cringed. “You didn’t?”

“Not exactly. I only asked about the protocol. Apparently any time they get a question about him, his personal assistant comes down to greet them.”

“Screen them more like. Let’s leave before Adam gets down here.” Mandy felt like an intruder, or at least someone who’d overstayed their welcome. Maybe they could come back after lunch, and she could admire the rest of the art. She looked over her shoulder for one last look at the Shorvan and saw a man in a dark suit talking to the desk receptionist. She pointed in their direction, and Mandy knew she couldn’t run.

He caught up with them quickly. “You were asking after Mr. Thompson?” he asked, addressing Liz.

Liz smiled, shaking his hand. “I was curious about his art choices.”

The man smiled at her. “Unfortunately, Mr. Thompson is not available for comment at the present time, but I’d be happy to explain his choices to you. I’ve been trained to answer all questions about the gallery and the pieces in it.”

“Oh, that’s all right, I’m sure Adam has more important things to do than show us around,” Mandy said.

The man quirked his head toward Mandy, looking at her for the first time then paused. “Miss Jones?”

“Hi.” She waved and felt underdressed in his presence.

His professional air softened and he shook Mandy’s hand warmly. “My wife is still raving about your art. When will we see a piece of yours in this gallery?” he asked, raising both of his eyebrows.

Mandy’s cheeks colored at his praise. She wished Derek thought her art was good enough to hang in his collection. But the only wall where her art would ever hang next to a Shorvan was in her bedroom. “I’m glad your wife likes them.”

Adam’s phone buzzed, and he read the screen. “Will you excuse me for one moment? I have to take this. Don’t go anywhere. I want to talk with you.”

“You know his assistant? This is a good start,” Liz whispered when Adam walked away. “Maybe he’ll let you talk to Derek in between meetings. It’s worth a shot.”

Except that wasn’t Mandy’s plan. She didn’t need to see him today. She saw him yesterday at the restaurant. That he was there with another woman was enough of a disappointment. She didn’t need to prolong the pain of it.

“Sorry about that,” Adam said, joining them again. “You said you had some questions about some of the art? Which ones can I answer for you?”

“Um?” Mandy hesitated. She was dying to ask about the Shorvan—how long Derek had had it, and what was it about that particular piece that drew him to purchase it. But she wanted to ask Derek, not his assistant. She wanted to see if Derek’s eyes lit up the way she knew hers did when she saw such magnificence. Adam wouldn’t be able to tell her that.

“I’d love to know about this first piece,” Liz said. It was a modern take on a small European village and looked distinctly different from the pieces next to it.

Adam started talking about inspiration and the auction they’d found it at.

Liz’s phone rang.

“We should probably go…” Mandy said, eyeing Adam.

“Let me just coordinate with Tyler, and I’ll be right back.” Liz walked off, leaving Mandy standing next to Adam. An awkward silence fell between them. Mandy pretended to be fascinated by the rather ordinary flowers in the foreground, hunching to study the brush strokes carefully. She could do this. She could be in Derek’s assistant’s presence without going crazy.

Adam cleared his throat and looked toward Liz. “Since we have a moment, I wonder if I might ask you about the art you did.”

“Of course,” Mandy said, fixing a smile on him. The sooner she answered the questions, the sooner she could leave with Liz.

“Do you often mix oils with watercolor on the same print?”

She nodded, liking that he could pick that detail out in her work. “I like to mix my mediums. It keeps my work interesting and original. And for a nursery I thought it would have a nice effect.”

“Dreamy but thought out is how my wife described them.”

“Exactly.”

“Kira would like to meet you. I’m not sure how long you’re in town for…”

The possibility of running into Derek at such a possible meeting ran through her head, and she couldn’t decide if the nervous excitement was if she saw him or she didn’t.

“That could be a possibility,” she said slowly.

“I can take you to her this afternoon if that’s convenient.”

She knew how busy Derek kept Adam. “I can’t imagine Derek, er, Mr. Thompson would be very happy with me if I took you away from work.”

Adam shrugged. “Derek took the rest of the week off. He won’t mind if I take a lunch break.”

“So, he’s not here?” Liz asked, rejoining the conversation.

“I’m afraid not. He went to Martha’s Vineyard. His family owns an estate there, and he wanted a few days away.”

Mandy wondered if it was because she’d shown up at the restaurant yesterday. But that was silly. And she was glad that he was able to take two days off. He deserved it.

“Does he go there often?” Liz asked. “I’ve heard it’s beautiful there.”

“It is beautiful, but he doesn’t seem to get there often, though Alice tries to get him there every few months or to bring someone along. He’s sent me and my wife a few times when he couldn’t pull himself away from work.”

“He’s traveling with someone then?” Liz asked.

“I’ve already said too much about his schedule.” He cleared his throat, leaning closer to Mandy. “But he is there with Alice. I’m not sure who else was invited,” Adam said, his eyes watching her.

“Do you like working for him?” Mandy asked.

“I do.” Adam’s smile was warm and genuine.

“So, about meeting your wife, I think I could make this afternoon work…” Mandy looked over to Liz, who nodded.

“You are welcome, of course, to bring your friend.”

“Thanks.” Mandy said.

“It’s settled. I’ll coordinate with Kira. She’ll be so excited to meet you.”