Page 23 of The Marriage Pact
“No garden, though,” she said, without thinking.
He looked momentarily perturbed.
“There’s a balcony. It’s like a small garden. There’s nothing on it at the moment, but you could do whatever you like with it,” he said.
Kaitlyn smiled.
“It’s all right. I don’t have a garden in San Francisco, but I’m near the park, and there are lots of green spaces around. I’m sure it’ll be the same in New York,” she said.
The plane was now coming in to land, and they touched down smoothly, taxiing to where a red carpet had been rolled out and another car was waiting for them.
“Let’s get going. Are you hungry? We could stop somewhere on the way, if you like,” Alex said as they stepped off the plane.
But after the champagne, the colas, and the various snacks, Kaitlyn wasn’t hungry at all. Quite the opposite, in fact.
“Let’s go directly to the apartment, okay? I’d like to see it,” she said, curious, eager even, to see where she was going to live.
“All right. But there’s one stop I want to make first. It’s on the way, don’t worry. There’s something I want to show you,” he said.
Kaitlyn was intrigued, and, as they climbed into the waiting car, she wondered what he had planned.
“A surprise?” she asked, and he smiled at her.
“I think you’re going to like it.”
There was no passing through security, no tedious queues or waiting. The car whisked them straight out of the airport and onto the freeway, where it wasn’t long before the iconic skyline came into view once again. Kaitlyn was trying to imagine what the apartment would be like. What the staff would be like, too. She’d never had anyone do things for her like cooking and cleaning. It wasn’t something she’d ever found a chore, but Alex obviously preferred not to do it himself.
“Where are we going?” she asked as the car turned left after crossing the East River.
“Just a little further,” Alex replied.
They got stuck in traffic, because even a billionaire wasn’t immune from the clogged streets of New York, but eventually, they passed into Greenwich Village, turning down a leafy side street and stopping outside what must once have been a warehouse. Like so many parts of New York, Greenwich Village had long since been gentrified. Kaitlyn knew it was one oftheplaces for artists and designers, and they’d passed numerous trendy galleries, where sculptures and works of modern art were displayed in the windows.
“This isn’t the apartment, is it?” she asked, peering out of the window.
Alex shook his head. “No, this is your new studio,” he replied.
Kaitlyn’s eyes grew wide with astonishment. She looked at him, hardly daring to believe what he was saying.
“Mine?” she exclaimed, and he smiled.
“I’ve rented the space for you. It’s an artists’ collective. Lots of different people work here, and there’s a gallery where they display their work. It’s well known, and not easy to get a space here. You’ll meet all sorts of people to connect with, other artists and designers. Shall we take a look?”
Kaitlyn was in a daze as she got out of the car. She’d been trying to imagine how she’d manage to work in an apartment, and without all her materials readily at hand. She’d scrimped and saved for the deposit on the studio she rented in San Francisco. It was tiny, cramped and hardly big enough to display everything she wanted. But this…
“That’s… I can’t believe it!” Kaitlyn said, looking up at the former warehouse, where large windows appeared to open onto an atrium in which works of art were displayed in the brightly lit space.
Alex held out his hand.
“Hilary found it for me. I wanted you to have a space you could call your own. Somewhere to work on your projects and meet other artists. I’ve only seen photos of it. Shall we take a look?”
Kaitlyn nodded. He led the way inside, and Kaitlyn found herself in the atrium, where several people were working — some sculpting, some painting. One woman was embroideringan enormous silk banner. Works of art were displayed for sale, and there was a sense of collective concentration, with everyone working toward a creative purpose. A shiver ran down Kaitlyn’s spine. It reminded her of college and the feeling of possibility that had so inspired her when seeing others experimenting with art.
“What a wonderful place,” she exclaimed.
“I think this is your workspace,” Alex said, pointing to an empty unit in the corner, where windows looked out at the back of the building, where a pretty courtyard garden had been created.
The space was light and airy, and Kaitlyn could imagine herself creating her ceramics there and being inspired by what others were doing. Several of the other artists looked up from their work and greeted them.
