Chapter 60: Rob
In my wildest dreams, I never imagined this many people might attend my gallery opening. I never would have thought the venue could be a gothic-Tudor style mansion once home to Howard Candler, the president of Coca-Cola. In fact, only last night I dreamt that less than ten people turned up, mostly my direct family and Geo.
But tonight I’m swimming in a sea of suits and evening gowns, and an absolute ocean of people are admiring and touching my furniture, which is all artfully displayed thanks to the genius and hard work of Christine and Geo.
My baby sister Beth bounces up to me like a golden retriever. “Oh Rob, your tables and chairs and stuff all look amazing. And to think, Mom used to try and convince her friends to ask you to make them a coffee table. She’d tell them how badly you needed the moral support.”
Whenever Beth smiles for real, her eyes squint up so much that they practically close. They’re nearly slits right now, and I love it. I pull Beth in for a hug. The first piece of furniture I ever made, a clumsily joined bookcase, is filled with books in her bedroom at home.
“My original fan.”
“I’d never give that bookcase up, even if someone offered me a million dollars.”
I chuckle. “No one would ever pay a hundred dollars for that wobbly hunk of junk, but you’d be a fool not to take it if they did.”
“Then call me a fool.”
My dad and mom’s heads appear around the corner. Mom’s eyes are wide, looking at the guests more than the pieces.
“Where did all these people come from,” she whispers once she’s close enough.
I smile. “I don’t know any of them.”
“Why are they here?” my dad asks. “If you don’t even know them?”
Geo turns around from the person she was schmoozing to answer him. “We tapped into a guest list comprised of Luke’s, Paul’s, Trig’s, and my contacts. That formed our core group, but then we’ve been marketing the heck out of this, and it has grown.”
“You could’ve used our company list,” Dad says gruffly. “Then we might have known someone.”
“I didn’t want to take advantage.” I shuffle my feet. “Or alienate anyone.”
“I can’t believe you’ve been able to manage preparing all this, and all your work,” Dad says. “It’s impressive, son. Very impressive.”
Now or never. “Well, actually, about that. Christine’s been lending a hand at work so I could spend my extra time on this.”
Dad turns to look at the back of her head. “Christine, you say?”
“Yep. She told me she’s always had an interest.” I clear my throat. “Actually, she mentioned that she had even asked you about it once.”
“Pah,” Dad says. “She’s a public relations major. What does she know about selling cars?”
“I majored in nothing,” I say. “And I’ve managed alright.”
“You’ve got heaps of life experience and natural charisma.”
I’m suddenly glad Christine isn’t near enough to hear what we’re saying. She might pop good old dad on the nose. “Dad, Christine’s taking over for me. She’s picked things up quickly, and since you put the whole business in a family limited partnership years ago, we all have shares to vote. Me, Beth and Christine are all on board for sure. That’s enough.”
Dad splutters.
Mom’s smile takes me by surprise. “Correction. You, Beth, Christine, and me are all on board. I doubt her twin would vote against her, which means Jennifer’s probably a lock too.” Mom takes Dad’s arm in hers. “I believe that’s called a super majority, darling. You probably ought to make peace with it, rather than making us look like the old fools you and I both are. Let’s grab something to drink.” She leads him around the corner toward the bar, but winks at me over her shoulder as she does.
I might have underestimated my mother all these years.
“It’s unbelievable he has all these pieces,” one woman behind me is telling Beth. “How did he create so many?”
The Callanwolde is twenty-seven thousand square feet, and much of that is currently showcasing my work. Geo had the brilliant idea to dedicate thirty pieces to the charity and have this grand opening to drum up excitement for them.
The gallery director, Francis Tate, turns the corner with a woman on his arm. She’s much shorter than he is, but she’s wearing a very tall hat, and the feathers keep brushing his nose.
“Can I order the other pieces tonight?” the woman asks Tate.
His face looks pinched, as though he’s answered this question before. “The ones that aren’t up for auction, do you mean?”
She grins and nods. “Yes, exactly. Can’t I order those tonight?”
“Tonight’s auction is to benefit Mr. Graham’s new charity, as you well know. But if you’ll tell me which particular item you’re interested in, I’ll make a note and call you first thing.”
“All of them,” the woman says. “Don’t you know who I am?” She puts a hand on her ample hip. “Andrea Vanderblat.”
The name means nothing to me, but Tate’s jaw drops. “As I said, I’ll make a note of your number.”
“I don’t want you to make a note. I’ll pay five million for the entire lot, but you must agree to that right now.”
“Ma’am, it’s not up for sale yet,” Tate says.
I nearly choke. Why isn’t the moron taking the offer? Who cares what the rules are? We made the rules. Take the money!
Geo beams at me.
“Did you hear him turn her down?” I hiss. “What’s going on?”
She claps her hands and whispers. “Your pieces are skyrocketing on the bidding. Having Luke and Paul and Trig invite all their friends was brilliant. These people compete, and when you add alcohol to the mix.” She giggles. “Plus, it’s all for charity, so they can write it off.”
“Not the pieces I sell tomorrow.” I frown. “Do they know that?”
“I really need to win that nursery set,” Mary says a few feet away.
Luke pats her shoulder. “I told you, I’ve bid on it three times. I just don’t feel good about spending more than we spent on our house for a crib and nightstand.”
Mary’s eyes widen. “No, neither do I. I had no idea it had gone that high.”
Luke rolls his eyes.
I step closer to them. “Umm, you’re shopping for a crib?”
Mary beams. “We aren’t supposed to tell anyone yet. I’m only seven weeks along.”
Geo squeals! “Oh my gosh, Mary, I took a test just last night.”
Wait. A test?
The two girls are hugging and screaming. Geo’s pregnant? And Mary?
“Trig is going to kill me for saying anything,” Geo gushes, “but we might have babies at the same time!”
“I’d be happy to make you each a nursery suite,” I say. “My gift.”
A man behind me with a scarf tied around his neck, an honest to goodness scarf, says, “Wait, you’re taking custom commissions?”
Another woman, this one with five inch magenta heels and a matching sheath dress touches my arm. “You are? Oh my goodness! I had this idea for a birch wood settee, with an ivory silk cushion. I must have you make it. Tell me you will. When could it be ready? My mother’s coming down to visit in three weeks. Is there any chance you could have it ready by then? I’ll gladly pay a rush fee.”
Suddenly people are shouting at me from all sides. Women, men, yelling things over one another.
Tate lifts his arms in the air. “Calm down, everyone. We are not taking custom orders. There’s been a misunderstanding, that’s all.”
“But I heard Andrea Vanderblat already bought the entire collection,” someone in the next room shouts.
What in the world?
“No one bought the entire collection,” Mr. Tate says, “but I’m willing to have my staff open up the rest of the pieces for auction tonight, if you’d like that.”
Loud cheers from everyone.
“Alright, I’ll take that as a yes. My staff will be listing the additional pieces one by one over the next forty-five minutes to an hour. Please be patient.”
Geo and Beth each take one of my arms and jostle me out of the room.
“This is better than you could have dreamed,” Beth whispers.
“No kidding,” I mutter.
“Your parents certainly won’t be able to argue that you’re not doing the right thing now,” Geo says. “And I am going to hold you to that pledge to make us a nursery suite, but I don’t expect you to do it for free.”
I pull Geo toward me for a hug. “Pregnant? I can’t believe it!”
“I know,” she gushes. “Me either. But Trig and I are both so happy. We haven’t told anyone though, so…”
“Don’t tell Brekka?” I ask.
Geo bobs her head.
“Don’t tell Brekka what?” Trig asks.