Page 71 of The Prize
Our journey to the Bronx was slowed by traffic but within half an hour we’d pulled up to a curb and were immersed in the aliveness of an eclectic neighborhood. Tobias led me to the front of a beautiful building that stood out among the others. Its stonework revealed it had historical significance. He opened the door and gestured for me to go on ahead.
I looked around the empty space that had so much potential. The low ceiling with its soft lighting exuded a cozy and unpretentious atmosphere. I walked in farther, wanting to will this place into existence, and envisioned the walls adorned by art and the visitors awed by the emotions they evoked.
A twenty-something pretty black woman who was smartly dressed approached us and reached out to shake my hand, and then Tobias’s. “Mr. Wilder. Hi, Ms. Leighton, welcome.”
“Samantha.” Tobias smiled brightly. “How are you?”
“Good. Excited. We’re getting close to opening next month.” She gestured to the other room. “We’re almost there with the electricity.” Sam turned to me. “This is an old place. There is lots to do to get it up to code.”
Tobias added proudly, “There’s history here. We saved it from being torn down and an apartment building in its place.”
“The locals could be pushed out,” explained Sam.
“We intend on bringing art to the people.” Tobias looked so at home here.
“I have the catalogs ready.” Sam led the way.
Tobias wrapped his arm around my waist and it made me smile that he felt comfortable to show affection. “Sam’s an art graduate from Berkeley,” he said. “We are lucky to have her.”
“Oh, shut up,” she said playfully. “You know I fought for this job.”
Tobias gestured for us to go through to the arched partition first. “I knew immediately she’d be a great fit for us.”
Sam beamed with happiness. “We’re calling this ‘A Wilder Gallery.’”
“I love it.” I followed her.
This next room was just as empty except for the long table and lying upon it were catalogs.
“I have everything ready for you.” Sam walked over to one of them. “These are the ones I love the most. I just need you to sign off and we’ll purchase them.”
“Recognize these, Zara?” Tobias peeled open the front page of one of the binders. “This is the Terrance Hill collection. Remember his paintings from The Broad?”
“Oh, my goodness.” I peered down at the familiar artwork I’d seen showcased in the LA gallery during a special evening celebrating that young man’s work.
Sam pointed to the colorful collection of images. “We’ll showcase them as the main feature opening night. We’re in the process of setting up strategic seating areas and establishing a room for free lessons for those who want to learn to paint.”
I let out a sigh of wonder at Tobias’s respect for bringing art into this thriving neighborhood, and Sam exuded the kind of warmth that would make visitors feel welcome.
“Ms. Leighton’s going to help us choose our wish list,” said Tobias, looking at me with a hopeful smile.
“I’d love to.”
“I had a meeting with Brother Bay,” he told Sam.
“Oh, I love his work.” She lit up. “He’s like a modern-day Rembrandt. How did it go?”
“He’s donating ten of his paintings. They’ll be for sale and all proceeds will go to the monastery.”
“Great job, boss.” She beamed at him.
Over the next hour we took an album each, choosing the paintings that spoke to us. Afterward, we conferred about our choices and managed to whittle them down. The gallery was destined to exhibit both old masters—which his aunt’s collection would also become part of—to more modern pieces that would give rising artists their break.
Being surrounded by all this potential helped me to forget the threat looming. Tobias had a way of making me feel safe despite that storm whirling closer.
“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off,” Tobias invited Sam. “We can lock up.”
“Are you sure?”
