Page 103 of Fresh Canvas
It was only a dream.
Val’s cruel smile was etched behind my eyelids.
It wasn’t real.
Ryan’s sneer still rang in my ears.
Gathering a pencil and journal from my nightstand, I tried to purge the haunting dream. My worst fears had surfaced, and I didn’t know how to even begin to deal with them.
The following work week passed in a blur. I avoided Val’s face at all costs, positive his nightmarish eyes would be still flat and empty. Thankfully, my to-do list was a mile long, requiring my full attention.
And I still had an eighteenth-century artist to defend.
First order of business? Those stupid keycard logs. They had taken the majority of the week to decipher. After countless lattes and a spectrum of highlighters, I had whittled down the logs to the necessary data. In the end, the logs only confirmed what I suspected.
Both Kendra and Val’s keycards had been used to access the basement archives around the time Attersee was put in storage.Even my previous boss, Barbara Gaines, appeared, completely exonerating Blythe, who hadn’t even been hired yet.
My chest warmed in relief. I loved my batty, unconventional boss. It was nice to know she wasn’t a criminal.
The investigation turned stale after that. Kendra only talked about the soirée, and Val wasn’t talking at all. Somehow, I felt if I could justseethe storage room where Attersee had been stored, I’d find answers. Alas, my keycard didn’t have the clearance for the service elevator.
Lance Stirling’s soirée was only two quick days away. I spent the afternoon finalizing details, then made my way to the Bloomburg wing where Stirling was waiting for me and Blythe.
Stirling’s preview showing before the opening had been myidea. I didn’t want any surprises or mistakes to take any of us off guard. My footsteps faltered as a sudden intake of breath filled my soul. I pressed my hands to my racing heart.
The Bloomburg wing had transformed. Its walls had been repainted with geometric patterns, overlaid in varying levels of opacity. The whole space felt fresh, as if Blythe’s contagious energy was layered within the walls themselves. Regardless of her modest attitude, Blythe’s hair-brained schemes were beyond genius.
The viral sculpture of Lil Swagga stood front and center, complete with mirrored sunglasses and a tooth grill made from recycled soda cans. Thick velvet ropes were strung around it, as well as the other sculptures in the hall. The entire flow of the exhibition felt erratic and exciting, yet strategic somehow.
Stirling’s already young face seemed even younger as he explored his very own exhibition. Eyes with child-like wonder, Stirling wandered the hall with his hands buried deep in his paint-flecked college hoodie. Every so often, he’d stop at a golden nameplate beside a sculpture, running a finger along the engraved text as if to memorize the feel of it.
Happiness misted my eyes.Thiswas what I had worked so hard for. To see a young artist living his dream.
Blythe clapped a hand on my shoulder. “We did it.Youdid it. This show is going to be incredible.” She gave me a squeeze before continuing to Stirling. I watched her guide Stirling to the blanketed podium where his auction piece would be revealed during the soirée.
The auction piece had been my idea as well. What better to drive traffic to the soirée than a never-before-seen sculpture from the artist? The proceeds from the auction would be donated to Stirling’s charity of choice.
Blythe finished her conversation, waved goodbye to us both, and left the hall.
Stirling approached me with a smile that rivaled the noon-day sun. “Amantha, I can’t thank you enough. This is more than I expected.” He seemed lost for words, running a hand throughhis messy auburn hair. The golden hoop through his nose glistened from the overhead spotlights.
“You’re welcome. None of this would have happened without you, of course. Your work… Well, it stands on its own.” I smiled. “And thankyoufor taking a chance on me. It was truly my dream come true.”
“If they don’t give you a promotion after this, they’re sleeping on the job.” Stirling opened his arms wide and slowly revolved. “It all hits differently when it’s yours, ya know?”
My cheeks began to ache from smiling so wide. “You deserve this, Stirling. You really do. Unfortunately, I’ve got a last minute check-in with the caterer, so I’ve got to run. Feel free to stay as long as you’d like, but the publicity team would like me to remind you that no pictures or videos can be taken until the opening.”
“Of course. Our opening is gonna go viral.”
“That seems to be a hobby of yours.” I chuckled. “Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow night!”
Stirling waved goodbye before turning back to his living, breathing dream.
A wistful sigh escaped me as I walked away. If only my dreams could be as sweet—instead of the nightmares that still plagued me.
After avoiding a catastrophe of rotting cranberries and wilted tarragon, I hung up with the caterer. Being a self-proclaimed foodie, Stirling had insisted on serving at least seven finger foods. I had negotiated him down to three.
Blythe approached my desk in a tizzy. “Hey, I almost forgot. You’ll need this for the opening. Yours doesn’t have the right clearance.”
