CHAPTER 2
After Kennedy and Jackson left the city, I spent a lazy Sunday alone in my apartment, eating take-out and trying to dig up information on Asher Reynolds. It had struck me as odd when Kennedy referred to him as elusive, until I did an internet search of my own. Asher had been mentioned in more than his share of tech industry articles, but he’d never given a direct interview. The only picture of him online showed him with much lighter skin and much shorter hair. No one seemed to know anything about where he came from or what he’d done before developing the Real Play.
I was frustrated by my fruitless search, but I didn’t have much time to dwell on Asher Reynolds. Deacon gave notice at the museum the following day, sending the curating department into a frenzy. Everyone on the chain of command hoped for a promotion and ass kissing ran rampant through the office. I had no interest in taking on more responsibility at the museum, so I kept my head down and tried to stay out of the chaos.
By Wednesday, word started to spread that David Hollis would be promoted to Deacon’s position. David was the one person at the museum who seemed to have a problem with me, but I’d never really understood why. I was considering all of the ways his promotion could affect my job when my phone vibrated in my pocket, startling me back to reality. I answered, even though I didn’t recognize the number.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Lauren. This is Ash.”
I was struck dumb with shock.
“We met Saturday at Mission Art,” he pressed.
“Yes, of course,” I stammered. “Hello, Ash. How did you get my number?”
“I asked around. I understand that you’re involved at the moment, but I was hoping to speak to you about a business proposition involving the museum. I have a terrible habit of overbuying, and I could stand to get rid of quite a few pieces. I’m interested in donating them to the museum’s permanent collection.”
“Well, that would be wonderful, Ash. But I’m afraid I’m not really the person to talk to about it. If you want, I can put you in contact with the head of our acquisitions department.”
“I’d rather deal directly with you,” he insisted. “Look Lauren, let’s drop the pretenses. Given you’re a smart woman, I assume you’ve figured out who I am?”
“Yes,” I confessed, relieved to have the truth in the open.
“Then you’re bound to have noticed I like my privacy. I consider myself to be an excellent judge of character. You don’t seem like the type of person who’d lead the press to my door or plant surveillance bugs under my coffee table.”
I couldn’t help it, I laughed. “You’ve had that happen?” I asked, grinning into the phone.
“You’d be surprised at what I’ve dealt with. If you’re available, I’ll be home later this evening. I’d prefer to send a car for you instead of giving you my address. Please, don’t take offense.”
“I understand. My best friends are… well, they have a lot in common with you. I can be available around seven this evening, if you’d like to send your car to my apartment. Do you need the address?”
“Will you be creeped out if I say no?” he asked, a hint of a tease in his voice. I did my best to remain collected and professional.
“I don’t suppose so. I assume it was listed along with my phone number, wherever you found that.”
“You suppose correctly. I apologize for my directness, but…”
“No apologies necessary, Mr. Reynolds. Thank you for considering us for the donation. I’ll see you this evening.”
I ended the call and slid the phone into my pocket, my heart racing.
Asher Reynolds just asked me over to his house. I can’t believe this.
I took a series of deep breaths, desperate to calm myself down. The first time Asher smiled at me, I felt a spark. After his phone call, I knew he’d felt it too. There was no real reason for anyone from the museum to view the paintings before donation. Asher could have simply had them appraised and delivered. He wanted to see me. And I returned the sentiment so much it scared me a little.
I could be reading too much into this. I’ll go home, change into something casual but conservative, and act professionally when I get there. He knows I’m involved with someone. Which means I can’t flirt with him at all, or I’ll come across as a cheater. I’m still not completely sure I should end things with Eric. I can’t go losing my head just because the guy went to the slight trouble of finding my contact info.
I spent the last three hours of work trying to convince myself that I wasn’t interested in Asher Reynolds. When it was finally time to clock out, I raced home and threw open my closet door.
Time to pull out another one of Kennedy’s presents. I can’t remember if I had it cleaned after my museum interview. Please, please let it be clean.
My hands fell on plastic and I let out a sigh of relief. I pulled the custom tailored Dolce and Gabbana suit from the closet and pulled it from the dry cleaner bag. I was determined to look and act like a representative of the museum. Anyone else in my position would wear their best clothes to the home of a billionaire benefactor. And I knew I’d feel more confident if I dressed for the role I was so determined to play.
I took a quick shower, folded my hair into a tight bun, and brushed on a light layer of makeup. I took my time getting dressed and then paced the loft, waiting for Asher’s driver. When my intercom buzzed, I grabbed my purse and told the driver I’d be right down. A short, bald man greeted me on the front stoop and offered me his hand.
“Ms. Matthews, my name is Gabe. Mr. Reynolds asked that I bring you to his estate.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Gabe. Please, call me Lauren. Thanks for the ride.”
“My pleasure,” he replied. He led me to a nondescript beige Honda.
“The less fancy the car, the less likely anyone will be to follow,” he explained, reading the surprise on my face.
“That makes sense.”
Gabe held open the back door and I slid onto the leather seat. A few moments later, he took his place behind the steering wheel.
“Would you like to listen to any particular type of music?”
“Whatever you want to listen to is fine with me,” I insisted.
He nodded and turned up the volume. The riff of a classic rock song filled the car and I leaned back against my seat. I was grateful Gabe seemed comfortable with silence. I was too nervous to make polite conversation.
I wasn’t surprised when Gabe turned the car toward Silicon Valley. I knew Asher’s company headquarters were there and he seemed like the type of man who liked to keep careful watch on what was his.
I stared out the window and watched the city pass by. I had no idea where we were going or how long it would take to get there, and it struck me that I probably should have asked more questions. But I was already in too far to turn around, so I willed myself to relax.
After navigating a long stretch of highway, Gabe took an exit ramp and turned onto a mountain road. After about ten minutes, he turned onto a narrower, tree canopied road and announced we were almost to the estate. I steadied myself, determined to appear unfazed by Asher’s wealth. But all pretense of my composure dissolved when we pulled up to a twelve-foot concrete wall with a solid steel security gate.
What the fuck is this?
Some sort of security box was mounted on a metal arm near the gate. Gabe slowed to a stop and rolled down his window. A security camera turned in the box and the gate swung open. He drove through and I sat on the edge of my seat, anxious to get my first look at Asher’s top secret home. Instead, all I saw was trees and an enormous manicured lawn.
Gabe continued for what had to be another half mile and finally, the house came into sight. It was a sprawling modern ranch, smaller than I’d expected but still five times as big as my childhood home in Sonoma Valley. The house was a blend of industrial and rustic design, with exposed beams, lots of windows, and a metal roof that made me long to curl up with a book during a thunderstorm. Asher was on the wide front porch waiting when Gabe pulled up to the front door.
“I’ll be right here when you’re ready to leave,” he promised.
“Thank you, Gabe. Again, it was nice to meet you.”
Asher opened my door and offered me his hand. “Lauren, I appreciate you coming out with such short notice. I trust you had an easy trip?”
I accepted his hand, but dropped it as soon as my feet hit the driveway.
“Yes, thank you for sending Gabe. I’m not sure I could have found this place, even with directions. And I’m certain I’d have been intimidated and turned around at that wall,” I confessed.
A light blush filled Asher’s cheeks. “I’m afraid the security is necessary. Please, come inside. I’ll show you the pieces I’ve decided to part with.”
He pushed open the thick birch door and I stepped inside, surprised as my eyes fell on the relatively simple home. The house had no formal entryway, opening instead to the large, open concept kitchen and living area. Plush cream rugs sat on top of sleek birch floors, and understated leather furniture was arranged in front of a trio of massive flat-screens.
“You seem… underwhelmed,” Asher observed with a grin.
“I guess after the wall outside, I expected to find some sort of castle. Don’t get me wrong, your house is beautiful.”
“It’s just not what you expected,” he finished. “I don’t need a lot of space and I abhor the thought of live-in help. If I’d built over two thousand square feet, I wouldn’t be able to keep up with the cleaning.”
He’s got to be kidding. He’s a millionaire that does his own vacuuming. I doubt even Kennedy could say that.
My eyes scanned the walls, widening in disbelief as they fell on Renoir, Cezanne, and Kandinsky.
“As you can see, I spent much more on the décor than the actual house,” he told me, watching me take in his collection.
“I don’t have a gallery room, I’ve just spread the collection through the house,” he continued. “I’m happy to give you a full tour, but the pieces I’d like to part with are in the guestroom.”
“Let’s see those first then,” I suggested.
“Whatever you say,” he agreed.
He led me down a wide hallway and pushed open the last door on the right. The same birch planks covered the floors and a custom platform bed sat against the left wall. The exterior wall was glass, with sliding doors that opened onto an expansive cedar deck. But like the living room, the most impressive thing about the guestroom was the artwork: a contemporary collection covered the walls, with the exception of Picasso’s “Man with a Pipe.”
“I can’t believe you’re willing to part with this,” I gasped, instinctively moving toward the painting. The man in the painting was more lifelike, less distorted than the subjects in most of the artist’s other work.
“I just bought some Impressionist pieces that I like better,” he explained with a shrug. “I like the Picasso piece, but he’s never been my favorite.”
“He’s my absolute favorite,” I replied. “I hate to sound unprofessional, Mr. Reynolds, but I’m having a difficult time understanding why you’d just give all of these pieces away. You bought them, so you know what they’re worth. And I doubt it would take more than an hour to find buyers for all four pieces.”
Asher blushed and cleared his throat. “My accountant suggested that I donate them,” he explained.
Shit. If I actually worked in the acquisitions department or dealt with benefactors, I’d have known better than to ask that question. I should have known anyway. Jackson has to give away a certain amount every year too. But still, I don’t want to do the math to figure out how much money a person has to make to warrant a hundred-million-dollar nonprofit donation.
“Of course, my apologies. Though in my defense, I warned you I’m not really the person to do this,” I reminded him.
“I understand,” he assured me. “As I said, I’m just more comfortable dealing with you. And I assume you at least understand the donation process?”
I nodded. “Just have the pieces appraised and call the museum to schedule delivery. You’ll need to speak with a woman named Elaine Brewster,” I instructed.
“Fantastic. Now that we have business out of the way, how about I show you the rest of my collection?” he offered. “And while we’re at it, please drop the Mr. Reynolds routine. I’d rather you call me Ash.”
I took a deep breath, determined to give him the cold shoulder. “I’m not sure that would be appropriate, Mr. Reynolds. After all, I’m here on business.”
He studied my face for a moment, trying to read my mood. He relaxed his shoulders and tucked his hands into the pockets of his faded jeans. His white t-shirt clung to his broad shoulders and it was all I could do not to drool.
“Look Lauren, I know you have a boyfriend. But when I saw you at the gallery, I felt strangely drawn to you. I understand you’re not interested in me in a romantic way. I’m just trying to be your friend. And as your friend, I thought you might like to have a glass of wine and see the rest of my collection. I’d love for you to stay, but if you’d like Gabe to take you home, I’ll understand.”
He met my gaze with hopeful puppy dog eyes and my resistance crumbled. “A glass of wine would be nice,” I confessed. “And I’d love to see the rest of your paintings.”
Asher smiled and held his head a little higher. “Fantastic. Follow me to the kitchen. Do you prefer red or white?”
“White, and nothing too sweet.”
He stepped up to a large wooden wine cabinet and pulled a dark green bottle from one of the diamond shaped slots. He pulled the cork, filled two glasses, and passed one to me.
“To the beginning of our friendship,” he offered, raising his glass.
I raised mine too and then drank half of the wine with one gulp. A triumphant grin crept across Asher’s face and he offered me a refill.
“Thanks,” I said with a blush. I stared out the glass wall while he poured more wine.
“I have a great view of the valley, if you’d like to see it,” he offered, nodding to the deck.
“That sounds great,” I agreed. I held my wine glass, embarrassed that I’d shown my nerves by chugging my first drink. Staring out at the view would keep Asher’s eyes off me for a few minutes, at least. He opened the French doors and I followed him to the deck railing. The sun had just started to dip under the horizon and the lights of Silicone Valley shone up at us.
“Can you see your headquarters from here?” I asked, trying to make casual conversation.
Asher stretched out his arm and pointed slightly to the right. “See that octagon? That’s our roof.”
“That’s an interesting choice in layout,” I commented.
“It wasn’t my choice. It was what was available when I was ready to buy. And there’s more than enough room to house all the divisions of the company.”
“There’s more to it than the gaming system?” I asked and realized I hadn’t bothered to learn anything about EnvisionTech while I was looking for information on Asher.
“There’s a lot more. Would you like to sit down?” He waved to the corner and my eyes fell on a set of sleek cushioned lounge chairs.
“Sure,” I agreed. We crossed the deck and settled into the chairs. I decided if I was going to hang out, I may as well make myself comfortable. I stretched out my legs and took another sip of my wine.
“So what do you do when you’re not working or admiring art?” I asked
“I spend a lot of time outside,” he explained. “I never got to do much of that when I was a kid. I guess I’m catching up.”
“You do have quite the yard.”
“There’s twenty acres, total. The whole place was overgrown mountain land when I bought it. I left a majority of it untouched. I love hiking through the woods and exploring. Maybe you could join me one day. You know, as a friend,” he suggested with a grin.
“I could maybe do that,” I agreed, searching his eyes before looking back at the view. “So what other type of work do you do at EnvisionTech?”
“Nothing interesting,” he assured me. “I’d much rather hear about you. Tell me about this guy you’re seeing. What’s so amazing about him?”
“He’s a very nice guy,” I answered without thinking, a knee-jerk reaction to his surprise question.
Asher let out a whistle. “Nice, huh? That’s quite an endorsement.”
I blushed, my heart suddenly heavy with guilt. “Eric’s more than nice. I’m not sure I’d call him my boyfriend, but we’ve been seeing each other for a few months.”
“If he called you right now, would you be honest about where you are and what you’re doing?” he pressed.
“Of course I would,” I insisted. “I haven’t done anything to be ashamed of. And I have no plans to.”
“I respect that,” Asher assured me. He sat upright on his lounge and rested his elbows on his knees.
“I meant what I said, Lauren. Occasionally, I meet someone and just feel drawn to them. That happened with you. You seem like a trustworthy person. I don’t have many of those in my life. I don’t want to get in the way of your relationship, but I’d like to be your friend. Get to know you better.”
I sat up to face him and crossed one leg over the other. Sincerity filled his green eyes and I felt my heart melt a little. I understood why he had trouble trusting people. It was a universal problem for people who were as wealthy as Asher and the Montgomery’s. Even Kennedy had a hard time making new friends. She told me once it’s really hard to tell who genuinely likes you and who’s just attracted to your lifestyle.
“Just what sort of friends do you want to be?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.
I was beyond attracted to Asher and, knowing he was attracted to me too, I knew there was no way I’d be able to stay away from him. But I couldn’t resist teasing him, just a little bit.
“Just regular friends, I guess,” he answered with a laugh. “You know, two people who explore mutual interests and enjoy each other’s company, with no kissing at the end.”
My stomach twisted at the thought of never kissing the man beside me, but I pushed the disappointment away.
“I guess I can do that,” I relented with a grin. “But aside from art, I’m not so sure we have any mutual interests. As your friend, I have to tell you that your lack of online presence is a bit annoying.”
Asher gave me a mischievous smirk. “I’d apologize, but I’m not at all sorry about that one. I find social media a bit repulsive. And I learned the hard way once that reporters will twist your words to fit their agenda.”
“Sounds like there’s a story there,” I observed.
“Not an entertaining one, I assure you,” he replied, frowning back at the view.
It was clear I’d hit some sort of nerve. Asher straightened his shoulders and gripped the stem of his wine glass so tightly, I was afraid it would shatter in his hand.
“I’m sorry…”
“No,” he assured me. He relaxed his shoulders and gave me a dismissive wave. “I apologize. As I was saying, I like to stay out of the spotlight. But I’m open with the people I care about.”
“Does that mean I’m free to ask questions?”
“You’re free to do whatever you’d like,” he replied and his eyes slipped to my lips before he looked away again. “But for the record, I think it would be more fun to get to know each other more… organically. There’s an art festival in Golden Gate Park this weekend. Would you like to go with me? Strictly platonic, of course. I’ll make you buy your own snacks and everything. We can walk around, check out the art, and just talk to each other.”
“That actually sounds nice,” I agreed with a warm smile. I’d already planned to go to the festival alone. Claire and Royce had a family wedding that day, and an art festival was the exact opposite of Eric’s idea of a good time.
“Perfect. Can I pick you up, or would you like to meet me there?”
“I’ll meet you there,” I insisted.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want Asher to pick me up. But I knew if I wasn’t driving, I’d be tempted to have a few too many drinks to ease my nerves. And I knew from experience that having a few too many drinks around a man I’m attracted to is a terrible idea.
My phone vibrated in my suit pocket. I apologized and pulled it out, stunned to see it was almost ten o’clock. I read a text message from Kennedy saying that Jackson was pitching the San Francisco idea to Jack Senior.
“Good news?” Asher asked.
“Yes, it looks like two of my good friends will be in the city soon. I didn’t realize it had gotten so late, Ash. I have to be in the office early tomorrow. Could we take a rain check on seeing the rest of your collection?”
His face lit up with a smile. “I’ll take any excuse I can get to get you back here.” His smile grew even bigger. “As a friend. Thanks for coming tonight. I’ll walk you to the door.”
“Thank you.”
Asher gave me a hand and helped me up from the chaise before walking me to the front porch. As promised, Gabe was waiting with the car.
“I’ll call you about the festival,” Asher said. He followed me down the porch steps and opened the back passenger door.
“Sounds good,” I agreed. I did my best to keep the excitement in my voice to a minimum. I slid into my seat and he ducked his head into the car.
“Gabe, please message me and let me know when you’ve gotten Ms. Matthews home safely.”
“Yes sir,” Gabe agreed with a nod.
Asher pulled himself out of the car and shut the door, giving me a final wave as Gabe pulled away from the house. I waved back casually, but inside I was squealing like a teenager.
I have a feeling Asher Reynolds will turn out to be one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met. I’m flattered he’s interested in me. But I can’t get involved with him right now, even if I do break up with Eric. Asher could be the real thing. I have to handle this the right way.
In the past, I’d had a terrible tendency to jump into serious relationships and ask questions later. And the feelings that danced through my body when Asher looked at me definitely made me want to jump all in. I was glad we were going to be friends. We’d have a chance to get to know each other without sex distorting our impressions.
I have to end things with Eric. Kennedy was right. I shouldn’t have let it go on this long. I’ll call him in the morning and see if he wants to meet for drinks after work. I’ll explain that I like him as a person, but don’t feel like we have much in common. I’ll just tell the truth.
I stared out the window as Gabe steered the car down the winding mountain roads. I knew I had a difficult conversation ahead of me. But I also had the overwhelming feeling that Deacon’s success in the art world wasn’t the only thing that had started that Saturday at the gallery.
***
“Knock, knock.” Deacon stood beside my cubicle, pretending to knock on the drably upholstered half wall.
“Hey. I can’t believe you’re already out of here,” I greeted him with a frown.
“I can’t believe after five years, everything from my desk fits in a shoe box,” he replied.
Deacon took a few steps into my cubicle and leaned down into my ear.
“I need to talk to you about something, but I don’t want to be overheard,” he whispered. “How about you walk me to my car?”
“I can do that,” I agreed.
He took a few steps back and I rolled my chair away from my desk. I hung my security badge around my neck and followed Deacon out of the office. He pushed open the back exit and we stepped out into the employee parking lot.
“What’s going on, Deacon?” I pressed.
Deacon had given the museum six weeks’ notice, but upper management had him out of the building in just four days. That, combined with his stiff gait and the urgency I’d heard in his voice had me on edge.
He pulled out his keys, hit a button, and the trunk of his blue Honda sprung open. He tossed the shoe box inside, slammed it shut, and then leaned against the back of the car.
“Look Lauren, I feel like I need to warn you about David. When your position opened up, he and I both recommended people for the job. He was pretty pissed when you got it instead of his nephew. You’ve been nothing but professional since you got here, so you probably don’t have anything to worry about. Just watch your back, and don’t give him justification to try and get you fired.”
Understanding dawned. “That’s why he’s had such a shitty attitude towards me. It makes sense now. Do you know if I was more or less qualified than his nephew?”
“More,” he assured me. “It wasn’t a case of affirmative action or anything. You were given the job because you had the most impressive credentials. But I thought you should know what you’re up against, since I won’t be here to protect you anymore.”
“Thanks for the heads up. Are you still set to leave at the end of next month?”
He nodded. “You’ll have to come over for dinner some time. Gale and I can show you everything you need to know about the townhouse. And we’ll show you pictures of the apartment we rented in Istanbul. Do you have plans Saturday?”
“Actually, I do,” I confessed. “But aside from work, I’m free all of next week. Talk to Gale and figure out which night works best for you.”
“Will do,” he agreed. “Gale’s plane lands in a few hours. I guess I should get out of here. I’ll talk to you soon, Lauren.”
“Thanks for everything, Deacon.”
He climbed into his car and I turned back to the door. I held my badge to the sensor and heard the lock spring open. When I made it back to my desk, I found David waiting outside my cubicle.
“Ms. Matthews, when I didn’t find you at your desk I thought you’d left early for the day,” he greeted me. He held his head high and looked down his nose, his hands planted firmly on his hips.
“No, sir,” I assured him. “I just walked De… Mr. Hall out to his car.”
“I see. There are a few things I’d like to discuss with you, Ms. Matthews. I’d like to see you in my office at nine tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, sir.”
He turned and stepped away without another word.
It’s fine… it will all be fine. He probably just wants to flaunt his dominance. I’ll listen patiently to whatever he has to say and then leave. Like Deacon said, I haven’t given anyone a reason to fire me.
I sank down into my office chair and swiped my mouse over its pad. My dual screens lit up with pictures of the Egyptian pottery on its way from Cairo. Before I could concentrate on my work, my desk phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Hey, I just got your message,” Eric greeted me. “I think meeting up after work is a great idea, but why don’t we go to Romano’s? My first patient of the day was late, so I had to work through lunch to get back on schedule. I’m starving.”
I don’t want to go to dinner. When you break up with someone over dinner, you’ve got to deal with the awkwardness of what to do with the food after you’ve broken someone’s heart. Either that, or you have to sit there until the plates are cleared, pretending everything’s fine. Drinks would be so much cleaner. But if I don’t agree to dinner, he’ll know something’s wrong. And he definitely deserves better than an over the phone break-up.
“Dinner is fine,” I agreed. “What time?”
“You get off in half an hour, right?”
“Yes.”
“I can leave the office now. The restaurant’s just a few miles from the museum. Is an early meal okay with you?”
“I’ll head straight there as soon as I clock out,” I promised.
“Great, see you in a few.”
I returned the phone to its cradle and took a series of long, deep breaths.
This is going to be hard, but it’s the right thing to do. In a few hours, it will all be over and I’ll be in a bubble bath with a pint of ice cream.
I turned back to my monitors. It was my job to design display layouts for the pottery show. I started dragging and dropping the pictures into different layouts, determined to have at least one option finished before I left for the day. Deacon’s warning about David was all the motivation I needed to stay focused on my job. Before I realized it, nearly an hour had passed.
“Staying late, Lauren?” My colleague Eve asked, peering over the wall of my cubicle.
She startled me; my eyes bolted to her and then to the small clock on the bottom corner of my right screen.
“Shit, not on purpose,” I replied. I quickly saved my work and shut my computer down. I stuffed everything but my phone into my oversized purse and set off for the door.
“Have a good night, Eve,” I called over my shoulder.
“You too, Lauren.”
I typed and walked at the same time, texting Eric with an apology and promising I was on my way. I unlocked my car, threw my purse in the passenger’s seat, and took another long, deep breath.
Time to get this over with.
***
When I arrived at the restaurant, Eric was waiting in a far corner booth. A basket of bread and a tray of dipping sauces sat on the table and the rich smells of garlic, pepper, and cheese filled the air. Eric stood when he spotted me and gave me a half hug.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I went ahead and ordered a few appetizers. We have stuffed mushrooms and an antipasto tray on the way.”
“That’s fine,” I assured him, settling in on the other side of the booth. “In fact, I’m not really that hungry. Did you order an entrée?”
He shook his head and reached for his water glass, washing down the tomato soaked bread.
A waitress arrived at the table with the rest of our food. She arranged the platters in front of us, took my drink order, and asked if we’d decided on our meals.
“I’ll just have an iced tea and the appetizers,” I replied.
“I’ll take an order of the pork cannelloni to go,” Eric added.
The waitress walked away, returning what seemed like seconds later with my tea.
“I’ll get that to go order put in now and let you know when it’s ready,” she promised.
“Thanks,” Eric told her.
She left again and I stared across the table, my heart clenched with anxiety. I took a deep breath, but Eric spoke before I could.
“Listen, Lauren,” he started. He wiped his mouth with a green linen napkin and pushed the nearly empty dip platter away from him. “I’ve had a lot of fun with you these past few months, but I’m not sure this relationship is going anywhere. I hope we can still be friends, but I feel like we’re just on different paths in life. I’m looking for someone who’s ready to settle down and start a family. And I know you want to focus on your art right now. I’m so sorry…”
I leaped into the conversation. “Don’t apologize,” I insisted, reaching across the table to pat his hand. “I think you’re absolutely right. I really like you, Eric. I just don’t…”
“Don’t feel that spark?” he offered with a sad smile.
I stared back at him and a realization hit me. “You don’t feel it either?”
He shook his head and relief flooded my body. I let out a deep breath and popped a briny black olive into my mouth.
“I should have said something weeks ago,” Eric insisted. “But you’re so attractive and you’re such a genuinely good person. I kept telling myself the feelings would show up if I just kept trying. I have a sneaky suspicion you’ve been giving yourself the same pep talk.”
“I have,” I admitted, unable to believe this conversation. Or the relief. “For all the same reasons. I have to tell you, Eric, I’m more than a little relieved. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you. But if you hadn’t done this today, I would have.”
“Well, I’m glad we’re on the same page. I want you to be happy, Lauren. And I truly hope you get what you want. You’re incredibly talented. I know you’re going to make a name for yourself. I just also know I’m not built for that kind of lifestyle.”
I nodded. “You’re talented too, Eric. What you do isn’t glamourous, but there’s a reason you’re so successful. You have a very easy, calming demeanor. I’m sure you put your patients at ease. And you deserve a woman who wants to settle down and build a life with you. Whoever she ends up being, she’s a lucky girl.”
“Do you know anyone you could introduce me to?” he teased with a sly grin.
I laughed and reached for a slice of salami. “Not off the top of my head, but I’ll keep an eye out for you.”
He relaxed back into the booth. “I’m glad we met, Lauren. And I really do hope we can be friends. It should be easy, considering that’s basically what we’ve been doing all along.”
In a sharp deviation from my usual dating behavior, I hadn’t had sex with Eric. We’d spent the night together and done other stuff. But I’d been under the impression his feelings were stronger than mine, which made me feel too guilty to let things go further.
“Well, as your friend, I have to say that this is the most mature breakup I’ve ever been through,” I told him.
The knots in my stomach had relaxed, making me realize just how hungry I was. I filled my small plate with cold cuts, crisp vegetables, and mushrooms. Eric passed me a breadstick and I dunked it in Alfredo.
“You were nervous,” he observed.
I nodded and took a large bite of the soft, cheesy bread. “Weren’t you?” I countered.
He shook his head and took another drink of his water.
“No offense Lauren, but you’re pretty easy to read. I knew this would come as more of a relief than a shock to you.”
My heart raced again and I let the breadstick fall to my plate. “Did you do this so I didn’t have to?” I whispered, unable to look at him.
“No,” he assured me. “I did it because it’s the right thing to do.”
The waitress returned to the table and announced that Eric’s meal was ready and waiting at the front register. He thanked her and she disappeared again. He pulled his wallet from his pocket and tossed a ten-dollar bill on the table.
“I’m going to go,” he told me. “Don’t worry about the check. I’ll take care of it on my way out.”
“Thank you, Eric.”
I sat awkwardly in the booth, not knowing if I should shake his hand, stand to hug him, or just let him walk away. He decided for me when he stood and moved for the door before I had a chance to react.
I must be pretty arrogant to have not seen that coming. I tried so hard to convince myself he was the right man. I didn’t even consider the fact I might not be the right woman. I got off easy on this one. I know I did. And Saturday, when I see Asher, I’ll be a free woman.
***
I arrived at the museum at seven-thirty the next morning. I wanted to impress David by having all of my layouts ready before our meeting. The office slowly started to fill and the aromas of coffee, perfumes, and colognes filled the air. Around eight-fifteen, Eve stuck her head over my cubicle wall again.
“Good morning, Lauren. Debby in accounting brought donuts this morning. They’re in the breakroom. There were only a few chocolate ones left when I was in there, but if you hurry, I bet you can get one.”
“Thanks, Eve. A donut sounds really good, actually.”
She disappeared and I reached for my coffee mug. I washed down the cold remnants of my last espresso and set off for the break room. I found three huge bakery boxes sitting on the table and no line in front of the Keurig’s. I sat my mug in the first machine, popped a cup into the top, and turned back to the table while it brewed. I loaded a paper plate with a chocolate donut and a bear claw, retrieved my coffee, and headed back to my desk. David approached me as I stepped out the door of the breakroom.
“Already taking a morning break, Matthews?” he asked with a sneer.
“No, sir. I came in early this morning and didn’t have a chance to eat breakfast. I’m just taking this back to my desk.”
Like every other person does in this office all day long.
“I trust you’re ready for our meeting?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll be in your office promptly at nine. I’m almost finished with the pottery layouts. I’ll email them to you before I leave my desk,” I offered.
“That won’t be necessary,” he replied, his voice low and ominous. “What I need to discuss with you has nothing to do with the show. I’ll see you in a half hour, Matthews.”
“Until then, sir.”
I rushed back to my desk, no longer interested in my breakfast. I sat the plate in the corner and told myself I’d eat once the meeting with David was over. I didn’t care if he wanted to see the display layouts or not.
After hearing David’s clipped tone, I felt more motivated than ever to show him what I was capable of. I turned my attention to my computer and had the layouts in David’s inbox five minutes before the meeting. As I steadied myself to walk to the meeting, my cell phone vibrated across my desk. I retrieved it and read a text from Asher.
“Still on for tomorrow? I thought we’d meet around eleven.”
I’ll text back later.
I smoothed the jacket of my navy dress suit and set off for David’s office. His door was open and he was behind his desk, waiting for me.
“Shut the door,” he instructed.
I obeyed and settled into the chair across from him.
“Ms. Matthews, I’m assuming you already know why you’re here,” he began.
“Actually sir, I don’t. At first, I thought you wanted to discuss the Egyptian exhibit, since it’s one of Deacon’s projects you’re taking over. Other than that, I’m not sure why you want to talk to me.”
David cleared his throat and pushed back his shoulders.
“Ms. Matthews, the acquisitions department received a surprising phone call a few days ago. Did you or did you not go to the home of Asher Reynolds, purporting yourself as a representative of the museum?”
My face flushed hot and I felt as if I’d taken a bowling ball to the stomach. I’d never expected to get into trouble for going to Asher’s house. I shifted nervously in my seat and tried to find my voice.
“I went to Mr. Reynolds home,” I admitted. “I met him at Deacon’s opening. He called a few days later and told me he had some paintings he’d like to donate to our permanent collection. Sir, I told Mr. Reynolds I wasn’t the person to speak to about this. I tried to put him in contact with the right office, but he refused. He said he was only comfortable with me, so I went. I looked at the paintings and I told him the proper process to follow, that’s all.”
“And when you received the phone call from Mr. Reynolds, did it ever cross your mind to tell anyone? Or did you hope that by ignoring the proper channels, you’d get recognition for bringing in a large donation all on your own?” he pressed, his eyes narrowed.
“I… I wasn’t thinking of myself at all, sir. I assure you. I apologize if I overstepped my position.”
“You know, you artists are all alike,” he snarled. “This place is just your day job, not your true passion. You prance in here and act as if you’re special because you know how to push paint across a canvas. It’s very apparent Ms. Matthews that you, like your precious Deacon, consider the museum to be your day job. And I’m sure that you, like him, plan to leave the moment you sell your first painting. Am I correct?”
Deacon sold his first painting nine years ago. But yeah, I get where you’re going, David.
I straightened myself in my chair and crossed my legs. “I do plan to pursue a career as an artist. But I don’t plan on letting that affect my position here.”
“Well, I’ve made it easy for you. You no longer have a position here,” he told me, his voice firm and flat.
“What?” I gasped with surprise. I knew he was upset, but I also knew he didn’t have the power to fire me himself. Charles and Paul, the two head curators, were the only ones who could make that call.
“After we received the call from Mr. Reynolds, I went to Charles and Paul with my concerns. They agreed that we can’t have you moving about town like a wild card, claiming to represent the museum while no one here knows what you’re up to. They’re also concerned about your dedication to the museum. Here are your termination papers. Unfortunately, you haven’t been here long enough to be due any severance. But a check for your accumulated sick and personal days is in here.”
He passed me a thin manila envelope and rose to his feet. “I’d like you out of the building in a half hour, Ms. Matthews. Please gather your things and leave your security badge with reception.”
I wanted to argue and fight for my job, but I knew the effort would be futile. Instead, I rose from my chair and extended my hand. I was determined to leave the museum with my head held high. David accepted it and gave me a limp shake.
“I wish you well, Ms. Matthews,” he offered in a pathetic attempt to be a grown up.
“The same to you. And I hope your nephew enjoys my desk.”
I turned and left without waiting for him to react.
“Everything okay, Lauren?” Eve asked when I walked past her cubicle.
“Everything’s perfect,” I assured her.
I sat down in my chair and opened my single desk drawer. Aside from a few flash drives, everything in the drawer belonged to the museum. I tossed them in my purse along with the few pictures of me and my friends I’d pinned to the cloth wall.
Maybe I can make it out of here without anyone realizing what’s going on. The last thing I’m in the mood for is a bunch of “oh no, she’s been fired” sympathy stares.
I slung my purse over my shoulder and walked for the front entrance with my head held high. A single coworker asked where I was going, and I lied and said I was on my way to a doctor’s appointment. When I reached the reception desk, I tossed my badge to the counter and moved swiftly for the door. Once I reached the safety of my car, I pulled out my phone. I hit Deacon’s speed dial, relieved when he answered on the first ring.
“I just got fired. Can I come paint?” The words flew out of my mouth and then I sat silently, hoping he wouldn’t press me for details.
He blew out a breath, the air causing static in my ear. “I’m home. Come on over.”
I turned on my engine, sped from the parking lot, and set off for my mentor’s townhouse.
***
“I can’t believe that bastard fired you,” Claire said with a sigh. She filled a wine glass with merlot and slid it across my coffee table.
“I wish I could say I’m surprised. But David’s never tried to hide his dislike for me. And Deacon warned me yesterday that he’d be looking for a reason to fire me. I never thought I’d get in trouble for going to Asher’s house. But if he hadn’t fired me for that, he’d have fired me for something. I guess it was just a matter of time.”
“I wish there was something you could do… some sort of appeal you could file or something,” she said, pouring her own glass of wine.
“I don’t want to work somewhere I’m not wanted,” I insisted. “I spent the day in Deacon’s studio. I took out all of my aggression on a canvas.”
“I’m glad you feel better, but have you come up with a plan? I know you won’t be paying rent soon, but you still need a paycheck,” she warned.
“I have my resume ready. I just sort of stumbled into the museum position, thanks to Deacon. I’m really better suited for a gallery or a graphic arts firm. I’m going to look through the online classifieds Sunday night and start applying Monday morning,” I assured her.
“As long as you have a plan. You know, Lauren, this will probably work out for the best. Like you said, you were never really suited for the museum in the first place. I assume if that had been your dream, you’d have majored in art history instead of modern contemporary.”
“Exactly,” I agreed. I took another sip of the wine and felt warmth spread through my body.
“So, now that I’m sure you’re okay about being fired, spill it,” she insisted, her eyes narrowed with impatience.
“Spill what?” I asked, taken aback by the question.
Claire grabbed a throw pillow and playfully hit me in the shoulder. “Your time at Asher Reynolds’s house. I want details. What was he like? Are you interested in him? Are you going to break up with Eric?”
I let out an amused snort. “Actually, Eric ended things yesterday,” I began.
“What?” She stared at me, her mouth in a little ‘o’. “And you didn’t tell me? Okay, start from the beginning Lauren. When did you go to Asher’s?”
“Wednesday night.”
“Then start there,” she instructed.
I hesitated. “I don’t want to get into too much detail. Asher seems very protective of his privacy.”
“I don’t need specifics,” she insisted. “You don’t have to tell me where he lives or anything. But what was he like? Do you think he’s interested in you? Did you really just talk about museum stuff, or did it go further than that?”
I smiled at her list of questions. “It started with museum stuff. He showed me the pieces he wants to donate and then offered me a glass of wine. We sat out on his deck for a little while and he asked if we could be friends. We’re going to the arts festival in Golden Gate Park tomorrow.”
“Just as friends?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Yes,” I assured her, a little too firmly.
“Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?” she teased. She took a sip of her wine and turned back to me.
“So what happened with Eric?”
“I was planning on breaking up with him. I messaged him yesterday and asked if we could meet after work. I gathered all my nerve but seconds before I opened my mouth, he opened his. Turns out, I wasn’t the only one who didn’t feel a connection between us. Eric said he’s ready to settle down and start a family, and I’m just not that woman right now. It was actually the best breakup I’ve ever had. I doubt we’ll hang out together. But if we run into each other at a bar or something, it won’t be a big dramatic deal.”
“So if Eric is no longer an issue, why can’t you and Asher be more than friends?” she pressed.
I sighed, finished my wine, and held out my empty glass. She refilled it while I tried to find the right words to explain my feelings.
“I really like Asher, Claire,” I confessed. “In fact, how much I like him is the strangest thing that’s ever happened to me. I barely know the man. But when he looks at me, I feel… I feel like…”
“You’re home?” she asked with a quiet, knowing grin.
“Yes! How did you know?”
“Because that’s how I still feel when Royce looks at me. And I bet if you call Kennedy right now, she’ll say the same thing about Jackson. Asher could be the one for you, Lauren.”
“I don’t want to get my hopes up. I’m not even sure if I’m ready to find ‘the one’. But I am sure that I don’t want to repeat the mistakes I made in the past.”
“You don’t want to fall too soon, like you did with Rory. You don’t want to get hurt again.”
“I don’t want to get hurt again,” I agreed. “I want to take the time to do this the right way. I know he’s interested in me. But if I jump into a relationship and jump into bed with him, I’m going to develop serious feelings for him way too soon.”
“Well if that’s what you want to do, that’s what you should do. What are you going to wear tomorrow?”
“I thought I’d wear my olive pants, flowy white tank top, and some flats.”
“You should leave your hair down,” she advised. “And call me as soon as you get home. I want to hear all about it, date or not.”
“I can do that. So how are things with you?” I was anxious to talk about anything other than my firing and my love life.
“Pretty good. Royce and I are leaving early tomorrow for the wedding. We rented a great room in Ojai. We’re bracing ourselves for the onslaught of marriage questions.”
I studied her face for a moment. “Are you really happy, not being married?”
“God Lauren, not you too,” she said with a sigh.
“It’s been a long time since we’ve talked about this. I just wanted to check in and make sure your feelings haven’t changed. I’m not judging you, I swear.”
“I know.” She softened and took another sip of wine. “Yes, I’m still happy the way things are. I didn’t mean to bite your head off. But you don’t need to check in with me. If I change my mind about it, you’ll be one of the first to know.”
“I’ll never bring it up again,” I promised. “But if you change your mind, I’m always here to listen.”
“I know you are. I need to head home and start packing. You’re sure you’re okay with everything that’s going on?”
“I’m fine,” I promised. “But I may need a pep talk sometime tomorrow.”
“The wedding starts at two, but I’ll keep my phone on me before and after.”
I stood and walked her to the door. “Thanks for checking on me. Will you text when you get home and let me know you got there all right?”
“I’m only walking three blocks,” she teased. “But yes, I’ll text you. Good luck tomorrow, Lauren. Just be yourself and try to have a good time. If you and Asher are supposed to be together, it’ll happen on its own.”