Page 34 of Ice To Meet You

Did I even know? I couldn’t explain why I was here, but I had to see her.

Esmé opened the door a little wider. She wore a pair of oversized pyjamas, her hair piled into a bun, a pen tucked behind her ear. I couldn’t help the grin that took over my face.

She peered over my shoulder. “Are you alone?”

I nodded. “Yes. I wondered if I could have my jacket back. It’s cold out here.”

Her eyes opened wider. “Oh, of course, hang on.” She closed the door and unchained the lock. As I waited, I stepped from foot to foot, encouraging the blood to move and reheat my bones.

Finally, she opened the door, letting me into the gallery. The chill inside nearly matched the temperature outside. I glanced around into the shadows, my gaze landing on an opened bottle of wine on her desk. Wasshealone? “What are you doing up so late?”

She closed and re-chained the door. “Why aren’tyoustill at the party? Is everything okay? Is Lola okay?” Esmé ran her eyes over my face. “I thought the two of you were having a good time?”

I chuckled, taking a step further into the gallery, my shoes tapping against the floorboards. “Lola’s fine. Let’s just say her kind of partying isn’t on my to do list.” After she’d tried to kiss me on the dance floor, I’d gently let her down and pointed her toward her lovesick co-worker. Maurice had been more than happy to distract her.

Esmé drew level, and I breathed in the faint scent of her perfume. The dim light from her desk lamp accentuated asmall crop of freckles on her nose. Why hadn’t I noticed them before?

We breathed together in the gallery’s stillness, eyes locked on each other. My mind raced for something to say, a witty remark or a joke to make, but nothing came.

Mercifully, distraction arrived in the shape of noise. A steady purr kissed the air, like someone revved a mini motorbike, and I narrowed my eyes into the gloom. As they became accustomed to the light, I made out dark material and a little mound of white on Esmé’s desk. “Is that my …”

“Jacket,” said Esmé quietly.

I stepped towards her desk to see Claudette curled up and on her way to falling asleep. “Well, at least someone missed me.”

Esmé stepped forward to move the cat.

“Leave her,” I said. “She looks too comfortable. I can freeze.”

Esmé smiled. “She doesn’t normally stay overnight. But she found your jacket and hasn’t moved since.”

“Well,” I said, “If you can’t offer me warmth, you can offer me a drink.”

Esmé glanced at the open bottle of wine on her desk. “Sure.”

She pulled a glass from a drawer in her desk.

“Handy. I’d say you’d done this before.”

She poured the red wine. “Done what?”

“Entertained a guest after hours. Alone.”

One of her eyebrows kicked up. “It’s not unusual. Client entertainment goes with the territory.”

“Particularly when you’re a one-woman show,” I said. Esmé eyed me steadily, as she handed me the glass. Her face gave nothing away. I softened my voice. “Running the gallery alone can’t be easy.”

She huffed a wry laugh, settling into her chair. “It’s not.There’s a lot of responsibilities, expectations and … judgement.”

“Judgement?”

Esmé swirled her wine in her glass before taking a healthy slug. “Yes. I don’t know about Rome, but the art community in Paris is old-fashioned. Few women own successful galleries, let alone run them solo. In the beginning, I had a partner who helped me fund the gallery. Actually, we were more than business partners.” Her cheeks coloured. “My ex shielded me from gossip. He was the acceptable face of the business.”

“Meaning he took the glory?”

Esmé smiled. “Meaning we shared the glory, and I made do with the knowledgeI’dmade it happen.”

I chuckled, and the triumphant look on her face made me smile. I sat on the edge of her desk. “Did you always know what you wanted to do?”

---