Page 2 of A Heart of Little Faith

Lily gasped as if he’d slapped her. The peach skin he’d admired deepened to tomato red, her moss green eyes sharpened to a finely cut emerald, its icy sharp edges glinting. “Excuse me? I picked up a napkin. I didn’t offer to help you cross the street. I won’t bother next time.” She dropped the napkin on the floor, spun on her black, three-inch heel and fled the gallery without saying goodbye to Samantha. She stormed into the hall and jabbed at the elevator button, gripping the handle of her black purse so hard her knuckles whitened. Her anger boiled below the surface, threatening to overflow at any moment.

He raced after her. “Lily, I…” Gideon said, wheeling behind her. She spun around. “Why are you following me?” Her tone, which had been mellow before, was now sharp with anger.

“Because I need—”

“I don’t care what you need! There was no reason for you to yell at me, much less in front of all those people. I don’t deserve that.” She jabbed at the elevator and groaned. “This elevator is slow. Forget it, I’ll take the stairs.” She ran to the stairwell, her shoes clattering down on the steps.

Gideon stared after her in disbelief. He pounded the elevator button in frustration, and when the doors opened, he rushed in. A mix of cloying perfumes remained trapped in the small space and he held his breath as he waited with impatience for the elevator to finish its three-floor descent. Downstairs, Lily strode toward Broadway to hail a cab.

“That was uncalled for,” Gideon said to her as he approached. The cool May evening air did nothing to chill his temper. Traffic sounds provided a background beat to his anger. Lily’s nostrils flared. “Here I am apologizing…”

“Apologizing? What apology?” she cried. Her chest heaved.

“Will you let me finish? I can’t get more than three words out before you interrupt me!” She glared at him, arms crossed at her chest, fingers digging into her ribs. “As I started to say, I was coming to apologize when you ran off. You’re right, I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I’m sorry.”

Like a fast-moving summer storm, her fingers loosened their claw-like grip, her chest expanded with a deep breath and her anger evaporated. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he responded. The pounding in his head eased and the muscles in his neck relaxed. “That was a low blow, though, taking the stairs.”

Lily tilted her head in confusion and reddened. “Oh, I’m sorry…”

“Relax, I’m kidding. Can’t you take a joke?”

Lily sighed, blew her hair out of her face and searched again for a cab.

“Why don’t you come with me into the gallery?” he asked. “I promise not to yell and you can even be my official napkin-picker-upper.” He winked, trying to lighten her mood.

“No, I’m done for the night.” She sounded weary.

“Please. I said I was sorry and I meant it. I don’t want to have ruined your evening.” He gripped the wheel rim of his chair in a vise-like grip as he waited for her reply.

Lily turned around again. “You didn’t. I had a lousy day—”

“—a lousy night?”

“—and I’m really tired. I just want to go home and relax. But I do accept your apology.”

A cab pulled up, its white vacant sign punctuating the night, and Lily got inside. She waved and he released his grip in time to wave as her cab pulled away. He returned to the gallery opening, but it had lost its edge. The paintings appeared duller, not necessarily a bad thing, the sculptures static. Even the champagne lost its effervescence. Assuming fatigue, he made his excuses to Samantha and left.

****

The next morning, Lily Livingston walked into her Madison Avenue office, deposited her briefcase under her desk, and headed into the kitchen area for a cup of coffee. As she poured it into the#1 Momcup her daughter, Claire, made in preschool, she grimaced at the decidedly unappetizing aroma of burnt coffee wafting around the pot. Usually, she stopped off at a coffee shop before work. But her late night resulted in a mad dash this morning and little time for her to do anything but drop Claire at school and run to the subway.

Deciding the coffee wasn’t worth it, she dumped it in the sink with a sigh and headed into the ladies room to try to tame her hair into some sort of a professional style. “This weather is killing me,” she moaned as she attempted to de-frizz it. She pressed it to her skull, only to have it spring back into a mass of unruly brown curls, surrounded by lots of frizz.

“Rough morning?” Lily’s boss, Anne, exited the stall and washed her hands in the sink next to Lily.

“Rough morning, rough evening, rough hair,” she growled and sighed in resignation, as the two women headed to their offices.

“Rough evening? What happened? Is something wrong with Claire?”

“Hmm? No, she’s fine. I was out late…”

“Oh?” Anne focused her entire attention on Lily. “Don’t tell me you were on a date?”

Lily rolled her eyes. “Of course not. Samantha invited me to one of her openings. It was fun, but I got in an argument with this guy and…”

“A guy?” Lily’s stomach sank as she realized her mistake. An old friend of hers since college, Anne had persuaded her to move to New York and work with her after her husband died. She tried for months to convince Lily to start dating. Lily could practically see Anne’s ears perk up.

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