“Robin,” she introduced herself.
“Girl,” Matt said to Tasha. He leaned close to her, conspiratorial. “I have it on good authority that she’s single,” he stage-whispered.
Tasha looked hopeful, and Robin pretended to be interested. “Who?” she asked.
“Jill. Chen,” he added as further explanation.
“Are you sure?” Tasha looked from him to Derrick, then back at Matt.
“Eighty percent.”
“Good odds,” Derrick chimed in.
Robin sipped her own wine, listening as Matt tried to convince Tasha to go talk to Jill a little more. Maybe she should encourage this. Tasha was cute. Artsy. Probably fun. She’d definitely provide Jill with a distraction. Robin steeled herself, because the thought of Jill with someone else really wasn’t sitting well with her. “Sure,” Robin managed, “you should go talk to her—”
“Sugar, how about you get me a glass of wine?” Lady Magnolia said to Matt as she smoothly inserted herself between Tasha and Robin.
He stared and, with a goofy smile, went to find the required beverage.
“Hello, sweetie,” Magnolia said to Robin. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Robin stared, too, and cleared her throat. At least others could see her. Then again, this whole gathering could just be a giant delusion. She hoped not. Tasha and Derrick appeared to be waiting for introductions because Magnolia cut a celebrity-style figure, in her black evening dress and matching gloves. Her hair flowed down her back in perfect queen waves.
Before Robin could respond, Matt returned with a glass of wine and Magnolia took it. “Thank you, sugar,” she said, her low drawl steeped in Southern charm. “Do y’all mind?” She gestured at Robin as if she was selecting her in a store. “It’s been longer than it took my mama’s sourdough to rise since I’ve seen her and we’ve got to get caught up.” Magnolia sipped as the three smiled, looking starstruck, and moved away.
“Hi, I guess,” Robin said when they were gone. “Another charity visit?” Maybe the Bureau really did think she was a lost cause. Robin’s stomach clenched.
“This one’s extra credit, sweetie. The Lady loves a good romance.” She smiled against the rim of her glass, which now held a perfect lip print. “Change the now, you change the later.”
“What does that mean, exactly?”
Magnolia raised one perfect eyebrow, and Robin was immediately chastised.
“Sorry. I think I know what you mean, but I’m still not convinced it’s a good idea.”
“Honey, the future is never set in stone. It’s an outgrowth of the choices you make and the motivations behind those choices. My mama always said that you can’t go wrong with genuine.”
“But Jill—”
Magnolia raised a hand to keep Robin from continuing. “Girl, have you not been paying attention? She knows what she wants. So do you. And sugar, you are more obvious than a pig in a double-breasted suit at a barbecue. If you don’t want the future you saw, then work on who you are in the present and remember, it’s all about intent and motivations now.” Magnolia winked. “You run along, sugar. Relax. Enjoy the party.” And she sashayed into the crowd, leaving Robin to stare after her.
She frowned, and took a sip of wine, trying to calm her thoughts. How could something that could prove to be so wrong make her feel so right? And what would happen if they hooked up? Could Robin maintain her good intentions and not slide back into bad habits? A man walked past with a plate piled high with goodies. Food first, Robin decided. More thinking later. She went to the tables set up in the back and ended up chatting with another gallery owner for a while.
By eleven-thirty, Robin had managed to eat even more of the seriously delicious hors d’oeuvres and chat up several more people. She’d never had a problem at social gatherings, and after Jill had spent a few minutes introducing her around, Robin had told her to go mingle with her adoring fans. It helped Robin, too, because the closer Jill was to her physically, the more intense Jill’s effect was on her. And if Robin had to keep staring at her in that dress, she’d start coming across like some perv who undressed women with her eyes.
Taking a break from the socializing, Robin stood studying Jill’s smaller watercolors—delicate landscapes and seascapes. These were earlier pieces, according to the tags, and both had already sold. In fact, quite a lot of her work was marked as sold, which pleased Robin immensely. The music—just loud enough to register—had changed to a faster-paced, danceable beat. She tapped her foot in time.
“Those are the vineyards of a winery in Oregon, not far from Portland,” Danielle said, bobbing her chin at one of the landscapes. Robin hadn’t noticed her approach.
“Yes. I’ve been there. It’s really beautiful. Jill nailed it.”
“That’s right, you’re a Seattle native. How do you like it all the way over here?”
“It has its good points. But I really miss the Northwest. That’ll always be home.” Robin turned from the painting to look at Danielle. “Did you fly out specifically for this event?”
“Yes. I’m based in Chicago these days, but I always try to attend a couple of Jill’s showings that we help fund. I’m originally from Portland.”
“Do you miss it?”
“Quite a bit. I’m looking to get more involved there and perhaps move back or to Seattle in the near future. I think it would be easier for me to be more involved at the grassroots level that way.”
Robin nodded. “Admirable. How long is your term on the board at North by Northwest?”
“A while, yet.”
“Good.” Robin meant it. Danielle seemed savvy, and she clearly wanted to advocate for artists.
“So tell me, Ms. Preston, why you would pull up stakes here, travel across the country, and settle for a position that lacks the prestige and salary that you’re no doubt making now.”
Well. Doesn’t mince words. “That’s an apples and oranges comparison. And it’s Robin.” She sipped and motioned at one of Jill’s seascapes. “I spent most of my childhood immersed in art, because it made me feel safe and creative, two things that I didn’t get to feel much as a kid.” She turned her gaze back to Danielle. “Hard times. But I always had art. I thought I always would have it, but my mom died when I was in college, and my dad wasn’t in the picture, so I chose business school, hoping to keep things together for me and my brother.” She shrugged. “I turned out to be pretty good at business, and maybe because I have an art background, it gives me a different perspective on the kind of tool business can be.”
Danielle nodded and gave her an encouraging smile, so Robin continued.
“I can navigate corporate America very well, Ms. Paredes. But I’ve not ever been a hundred percent comfortable in it. Regardless, I know how it works, and I know how to make it work for others. I saw the opening at North by Northwest and jumped on it because that’s what I’d much rather be doing, not only to put my skills to work for it, but also because it’ll feed my soul in ways that money and prestige simply can’t.”
“Thank you for that. And it’s Danielle.”
“Oh, damn,” said a thirties-ish man nearby in tight black pants and an even tighter blue shirt cut to expose his well-sculpted arms. “I wanted to buy that one.” He was looking at one of Jill’s found object pieces, a city scene.
An equally buff man with him shook his head sadly. “Let’s check on the other one.” He caught Robin’s eye and gave her a little nod. Robin nodded back.
“Jill’s work is quite popular at these events,” Danielle said.
“And I love that. Does she ever sell out?”
“There have been a couple of times that she has. Jill is on her way to even greater things.”
“That’s why foundations such as yours are so important.” Both she and Danielle turned back to Jill’s work, a shared silence of admiration for it. “I really appreciate
you taking the time to talk with me,” Robin said. “I hope I didn’t bias your selection process. Too much, anyway.” She smiled, and Danielle laughed.
“I actually enjoy meeting potential candidates for positions with the foundation. I’m only one aspect of this process. There are others, of course, who will want to meet the top choices.”
“Danielle,” said a tall man who might have been African. “Oh, pardon me.” He saw Robin and inclined his head in apology.
“No, it’s fine. Carry on. Thank you again, Danielle.”
“The same to you.” She engaged the man, and Robin wandered away to look at a few more of Jill’s pieces. Had she said too much to Danielle? Made her think she was strange? Or disingenuous? A server moved toward her.
“Can I switch you to champagne?” he asked. “It’s almost midnight.”
Robin looked at him and grinned. “Already?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He smiled back. Cute, in an emo kind of way.
“Then, absolutely.” She placed her half-full wine glass on his tray and took one of champagne that was almost two-thirds full. He was one of several servers trading people’s wine for champagne. Robin took her phone out of her pocket. Five minutes to go before the new year. The music faded, to be replaced by what sounded like a live feed from Times Square. She didn’t sip her champagne yet, wanting to save it for the stroke of midnight. Robin got caught up in the palpable excitement in the room, and she was glad, actually, that Caroline had bowed out. It dawned on her, then, that Lady Magnolia might have had something to do with that. Robin looked around for her, but didn’t see her. So the Bureau was…what? Match-making?
She caught sight of Jill, who was working her way through the people toward her, carefully carrying a glass of champagne, and Robin shoved the Bureau to the back of her mind.
“Hey,” Jill said when she was next to Robin. “Three minutes.” She smiled. “Enjoying yourself?”
“Very much.”
Jill started to reply when someone on the other side of her said something, and Jill gave Robin a tiny shrug and turned to address him. Robin allowed herself to watch Jill’s profile. And her neck and the shape of her shoulder. Her gaze dropped lower, to the tantalizing curve of Jill’s breast down to her hip and lower still to the top of the slit in her dress, about halfway up her thigh. Robin’s heart pounded harder, and she remembered the first time they’d made love all those years ago, Robin stripping Jill out of her jeans and rain-damp shirt as thunder rumbled beyond the windows of Jill’s warehouse studio apartment, both of them impatient with need and want.
“One minute,” somebody shouted. Several others cheered.
Jill put her left hand on Robin’s right shoulder as she continued to talk to the man on her right, and Robin was sure the fabric of her shirt was melting, fusing to her skin under Jill’s palm. Jill looked at her and gave her another smile, then turned back to the man to her right, who was clearly a fan. Robin didn’t care how long Jill talked to him, as long as her hand stayed on her shoulder. Small pleasures, things like that, and she’d be grateful for them as long as she lived. Opportunity echoed through her brain, standing there with Jill so close, her hand making a physical connection between them.
“Twenty seconds!” somebody else yelled, amidst cheers. The sound emanating from the speakers increased, and Robin heard the announcers at Times Square, and the din of the crowd that had gathered there.
And then somebody shouted “Ten!” and the rest of the people in the gallery started counting down, too, glasses of champagne poised to toast. Jill still gripped Robin’s shoulder, and she joined the crowd in the count.
“Five! Four! Three! Two! One!”
The gallery broke into whooping and cheering as “Auld Lang Syne” blared from the speakers. Several people started kissing, and Jill’s hand was suddenly on the back of Robin’s neck. Before Robin could figure out what was happening, Jill pulled her head down and Jill’s lips were suddenly on Robin’s, and all Robin knew at that moment was the warmth and softness of Jill’s mouth moving against hers, tasting of champagne, and a roaring in her ears and fireworks in her chest and thighs.
Jill pulled away, but her hand stayed on the back of Robin’s neck, and her eyes seemed to sparkle beneath the gallery lights. She tapped her glass against Robin’s. “Happy New Year,” she said.
“Yeah. Happy New Year to you.” Robin drained her champagne in one long swallow, trying to cool the molten heat still circulating through her blood.
Jill drank hers in similar fashion. “Are you going to hang around?”
Robin hesitated. She should go. But the feel of Jill’s fingers still on Robin’s neck and the aftermath of the kiss pretty much overrode that idea. “Yeah.”
“Good. If you’re tired, though, I’ll understand.”
“Nope. All good.” The music changed to something more danceable, and a few people nearby laughed and started moving and swaying.
“More champagne?” Jill pulled her hand away from Robin’s neck and pointed at her glass. “I’ll get some for us both.”
“I’m good. Maybe a little more wine. Here, don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it. Go mingle.” She took Jill’s empty glass and moved away, heart still slamming her ribs, her thoughts completely muddled. She placed the empty glasses on a tray stand and got herself a white wine from a server and weaved through the crowd to find one with champagne. There was emo boy now, talking to a tall, curvaceous woman in a black dress.
“Good work, sugar,” Lady Magnolia said with a smile and a wink as she handed Robin a glass of champagne.
“I don’t—”
Magnolia placed a gloved finger over her lips. “The Lady is nothing if not a romantic at heart, sweetie.” She straightened, and took a delicate sip of champagne. “Not bad.”
“I’m not sure—”
“Oh, yes you are.” Magnolia took another sip and set the glass back on the server’s tray. He moved away. “Opportunity and intent,” Magnolia said authoritatively. “Make sure yours are honorable.” She winked. “Take care, sugar.” She turned away, a regal, elegant movement.
“Wait.”
Magnolia did.
“Thanks for—everything, I guess.” She smiled. “And you look fabulous.”
“Girl, don’t I know it.” Magnolia blew her a kiss and moved into the crowd. Robin lost sight of her, but a flash of red in her peripheral vision captured her attention. She turned to see Jill nearby, talking to a small group of people. She walked the champagne over. Jill took the glass.
“Thanks,” she said with a smile that made Robin ache. “Hold on. I have to say some goodbyes.”
Robin nodded and watched her walk away, needing to push that dress down so she could see the rest of Jill’s tattoo. And a lot more. She took a swallow of wine, noting that the gallery was actually clearing out, and as that happened, the music seemed to get louder. The current song was a slow, sexy groove. It matched everything she was feeling right now, as she watched Jill near the door, smiling and clasping hands. A few people Jill hugged, including Danielle, who caught Robin’s eye as she was leaving. She waved at Robin before she stepped outside, and Robin returned the gesture, marveling at coincidences.
Then again, Lady Magnolia was in the house. Maybe nothing was a coincidence. She sipped her wine and said good bye to a few people she’d chatted with earlier. Robin had to wait around, anyway, since Jill had taken her coat. Lady Magnolia was nowhere to be seen, and Robin wondered again if she’d been hallucinating. She watched an older straight couple talking earnestly to Jill, and she took another sip of wine. She really hoped she wasn’t hallucinating, because this was a lot of fun.
She did a quick trip around the gallery to assess how many pieces had sold. Only three were left. This had clearly been a good night, and Robin smiled, pleased. She took her phone out and checked messages. Frank had texted New Year’s greetings, and she
responded. Several other friends and acquaintances sent texts or photos of various scenes from celebrations. She replied to a few, then held up her phone, took a selfie in front of one of Jill’s larger pieces, and sent that to Frank as well as a few others with the message, hanging with the artists on New Year’s!
“I want in on this,” Jill said at Robin’s elbow.
“Good idea. Photo for Madison.” Her voice remained steady though Jill’s proximity made her ache.
Jill leaned in, and she and Robin made goofy faces. Robin took the photo then checked it. “Totally ridiculous,” she pronounced as she showed it to Jill.
“Definitely. Send that to me.”
Robin did, then looked up from her phone. The gallery was mostly empty with the exception of a few servers and a couple of people Robin assumed were gallery staff. Groups of people stood outside, talking. A few smoked. They’d move on to other parties, Robin was sure. The clock on her phone read 12:43.
“This was a lot of fun,” Robin said. “A ton of work for you and the crew, but well worth it.”
“It was, wasn’t it?”
“You sold everything but three.”
“Really?” Jill grinned. “Go, me.”
Robin grinned back. “Second that. Go, you.”
Jill took Robin’s empty glass from her. “Let me check in, and then I’ll get your coat.”
“Okay.” Robin watched her walk away, and it was almost painful, the effect Jill was having on her. Good thing she’d be out of here soon. Because if she stayed any longer she wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep her hands to herself, especially after that kiss. But thinking about leaving hurt in ways much less pleasant than thoughts of staying. The music had been turned down, and the selection changed to a relaxing electronic chill and Robin again perused Jill’s art, marveling that each viewing brought new things to light.
“Anything in particular that caught your eye?” Jill asked, bringing Robin out of her examination of one of her large mixed medias.
The Bureau of Holiday Affairs Page 20