Page 172 of Lovestruck at Sundown
The gallery was pristine. All white walls, grey, polished concrete floors, and black industrial ceilings with movable lighting rails all around. They added a French touch to the gallery with the Louis XV flat benches made with ornate black wood and upholstered with black velvet.
My phone buzzed inside my purse, and I hoped it was William.
W.S.:I miss you too. Just four more weeks till Thanksgiving.
A server carrying a golden tray with several flutes of champagne approached us and offered us a glass. We accepted it, and before we took a sip, Liam said, “Cheers to facing the music and letting our hearts lead the way.”
My brows arched with endearment. It reminded me of Caleb’s letter and how he ended it withLet the heart lead the way. It was as if Caleb himself had sent Liam my way. His friendship was so special to me and had come at the most opportune time. “Cheers.” We clinked glasses and took a sip. Liam was right. Whatever happened tonight, if my father showed up or not, I needed to face it head-on.
“Good evening,” Louis said, approaching us as we looked at some of the modern pieces at the front. “Simone got caught up chatting with someone she had just greeted. I’m glad to see you could make it.” I introduced Louis and Liam, who congratulated him on the gallery after they shook hands. “There’s something I want to show you before I get too caught up with the event.”
Louis called on Simone, who joined us in following him wherever he wanted to lead us after the pleasantries were exchanged.
We entered a room at the far end to the left, where large-scale prints of various renowned photographers were exhibited on the walls. The photographers’ names and descriptions were adhered to the wall in cut-out black vinyl lettering next to each photograph.
It took me a few seconds to realize that Louis’s portrait I’d taken when he was crying was displayed on one of the walls. I’d sent him the files for free after he insisted on paying for them. It’d been a pleasure photographing him, and there was no way I would’ve charged him for them.
“Jesus Christ.” I rushed toward the print, leaving all composure behind as I heard Louis and Simone’s delighted laughs behind me. I pressed a hand to my chest and then pointed at the print beside me with a nervous smile that morphed into trembling lips.Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.I faced the print and inspected it, completely blown away by its quality. The texture of his skin and the lighting against the black backdrop contrasted beautifully.
“We love photography and have been pushing more photographic exhibits in our European galleries in recent years,” Simone explained. “I fell in love with this portrait and knew we had to show it today.”
“It’s an honor to see the portrait displayed here,” I said, shaking my head with shock. “Thank you so much.”
“Thankyou,” Louis replied, taking a step forward and looking at the portrait’s caption. I leaned in to read it:
BILLIE MURPHY
Portrait 001 of “COMMON: Grief — A Series.”
Exhibit to be presented at the Beaumont Galerie Paris
in February 2013.
I almost choked on my saliva.
“If you don’t like the name, we can change it,” Louis said with a grin. “But consider this a formal invitation to participate in an exhibit at our Paris gallery where you would have full creative control and support from our senior curator.”
A shrill scream blasted inside my head.
“I-I love everything about this idea.”
“We love it, too,” Simone said. “We genuinely believe in your talent and feel like touching on the subject of grief for the exhibit would be very fitting for us personally, to you, and to the public as well. But we can discuss the details at a later date if you’re interested in us making you a formal offer. We think February would be a good month for us in terms of scheduling, and we’re hoping it works for you, too.”
“February works,” I said, trying not to let an excited whimper escape my throat. “It would give me enough time to work on the concept, photograph more people, and finish the project on time.”
Someone who appeared to be a gallery employee called out to Louis from the room’s entrance.
“The ceremony is about to start,” Simone said, touching my arm. “But we’re glad you’re interested in the project.”
“Of course,” I said, still stunned by the news. “Thank you so much for the opportunity.”
They turned around and walked away, and I held on to Liam’s arm for balance and grasped it with force. “Is this real? Was that real?”
“It’s all real, Red,” he said with an excited laugh. “Your work will be exhibited in Paris.”
Making sure the Beaumonts were out of earshot, I turned to Liam and squealed. But then I panicked. Working on a project like this was demanding and time-consuming. My full-time job at the magazine, plus working with Abigail, left me with little time to spare. It would be intense, but I had to make it work.
“Where did you go?” Liam waved a hand in front of my face and whistled.
