Blossom in Winter

by Melanie Martins

“Andrew.” I try to remain as calm as possible. “I understand you’re taking your job very seriously, so am I. But I don’t recommend you lie about me on your reports.” See, Mr. Van Gatt doesn’t appreciate people who try to screw his daughter over. Oh God, it would’ve felt so good to say that!

  “Oh, the little intern is threatening me...”

  At this point, I just shrug my shoulders and look back at my screen. “Do as you wish, but don’t blame me if you lose your job afterward.”

  His mouth opens wide in shock, but he finally decides to leave my desk.

  I heave a deep sigh of relief.

  Alright, Petra, back to work. I browse all my favorite artists and create a file of new, up-and-coming names who’ll need further research.

  My plan has to be balanced between low- and high-risk investments. I take a numbers-focused approach like Alex advised, looking at the math, the statistics, and the projected returns in the short and long term...

  Phew! I’ve been working tirelessly the entire afternoon; hours feel just like minutes. The artists—

  “Petra?”

  “God! You scared me.”

  “It’s eight p.m. Everyone already left. What are you still doing here?” scolds Alex, standing before me.

  He has finally removed his tie and opened his collar. Oh dear. My mouth goes dry looking at him, and I try hard not to gape. I wonder where is he heading next. To a dinner? A bar? Some exciting event? Maybe we could go together…

  Get a grip, Petra! I look back at my screen and click print. “I was just finishing. When can I present you with my investment plan?”

  “You already have one?”

  “Yep,” I reply, collecting a thick stack of pages from the printer.

  “Alright, pass by my office tomorrow, then. Now, let me call Anthony to take you home.”

  I roll my eyes. “I can book an Uber.”

  “I want to make sure you get home safely.”

  “Ubers are safe.”

  Nevertheless, Alex keeps holding his iPhone to his ear. “I know that, but not enough for my taste.”

  “Pfff, you’re as controlling as Dad. Unbelievable.”

  He walks a few steps in my direction. Standing in front of him, I can’t help but inhale his perfume. It’s so unique—sophisticated and old-school, yet daring and audacious. I wonder if he created it himself.

  “Hi, Anthony. Ms. Van Gatt is ready to go home. Kindly pick her up at the headquarters. Thank you. Bye.” And he hangs up. “Anthony is gonna be here in five minutes.”

  I let out a sigh, displeased. After all, while I’ll be heading to an empty home, my godfather will most likely be going to a very exciting place. “And you? Where are you going?”

  “Always so damn curious, huh?” he teases, shaking his head in amusement. “I’ve got a dinner to go to.”

  Of course you do. And I’ll be dining alone with my books. I nod pensively, trying to hide my disappointment. “Well, enjoy your dinner,” I reply, making my way toward the elevators.

  But he reaches for my hand before I can do so. “Petra.”

  “Yes?” I try hard not to blush as I look at him in the eye. He lets a corner smile escape but doesn’t say a word. Okay, he knows I’m blushing.

  “Good night.” And he gives my hand a kiss like he always does.

  “Good night, Alex.”

  Falling asleep is just impossible. My mind has been ruminating for the last two hours. What if Alex doesn’t like my investment plan? Or what if some of the artists I’ve selected are not good enough? And, worse, what if he doesn’t approve any of them?

  I glance at the clock. One a.m. Shit. How am I gonna wake up in time tomorrow? I can already hear Andrew rebuking, Late again, Williams?

  I suddenly have an idea. I grab my iPhone and call Dad. After all, he’s the best person to take a look at it.

  “Dad? Hi. Are you home? Can we meet in the library for a second? I need your input. Thank you. See you there.”

  I put on a robe and head to the library with a copy of my investment plan.

  Dad stands behind the desk, looking sleepily out the window at the darkness beyond. He’s wearing a long dark-blue velvet robe. Whatever the situation, I always find him formal and serious.

  “What’s going on, Petra? It’s one a.m. I really hope it’s urgent.”

  “I’m pitching my investment plan to Alex for my new fund tomorrow…”

  “You’ve already finished your investment plan?”

  “Yep, here.”

  He starts reading the first page, then flicks through the rest. “And what are you afraid of?”

  “I don’t know… Anything I’ve forgotten to include?” Dad keeps running his eyes over the papers. “Seems fine.” He hands me back the plan. “What will be crucial is your presentation. Alex won’t read this.”

  What? Why did I spend so many hours working on an investment plan, then? “You’re telling me he’s not gonna read any of this?”

  “Of course he won’t. You’ll have about ten minutes to tell him primarily why you chose those particular artists and what returns you can generate for the fund. That’s all.”

  I take a deep breath. “So the pitch is basically only me talking?”

  “Relax. He’s your godfather. He’s not gonna bite you.”

  “Dad, I’ve never been good at presentations.”

  “You just have to know your numbers, the projected returns, and you’ll be fine.” Dad makes it seem like the easiest job in the world. “Now, if you excuse me, I’ve got to get some sleep.” He moves across the room and stops in front of me, putting his hands on my shoulders. “You’ll be fine, don’t worry,” he repeats. “I am very proud of you, Petra. You’ll take the world by storm.”

  Wow. I wasn’t expecting such a great compliment. I just hope Alex will feel the same way tomorrow.

  “Thank you, Dad.” I look down, thoughtful. “You know… I’d never have managed to be who I am today without you.” I can see his eyes glittering. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me, and for this internship.” I smile tenderly at him. “I won’t disappoint you.”

  He opens his arms wide and gives me a deep hug. “Oh, Petra.” With a warm heart, he shuts his eyes for a moment. “You are the most precious gift God has given me on this earth,” he replies, gently kissing the top of my head.

  Manhattan is particularly hot, humid, and sticky today. I remember at this time last year, I was in the Hamptons chilling by the pool at Emma’s villa. Not surprisingly, Emma’s there again. She just texted me an envious picture of her and her friends, all in fancy bikinis, drinking fresh watermelon juice—probably laced with vodka—and floating around the huge pool, surrounded by half a dozen hot college guys.

  I scan the investment floor—no one could care less about the Hamptons here. Everyone’s hustling and bustling, trying to make their way up in finance. The interns are heavily focused on their research—desperate to impress their portfolio managers.

  I text Emma back. Don’t distract me. I’m working. I have a presentation today. Feeling as nervous as ever! Xx

  But Emma’s feeling playful. Girl, you must chill. Come over this weekend.

  I smile. Maybe... if it goes well, count me in.

  “Texting, Williams?” Annoying Andrew peers over my desk, looking down at me.

  “Not at all.” I hide my iPhone discreetly in my lap. “And you? Sneaking around, as always?”

  “Van Dieren’s waiting for you. We’ll see whose laughing after.”

  My heart skips a beat. “Didn’t he say after lunch?”

  “Looks like he’s available now.”

  Oh God. My stomach knots, and I feel like throwing up. I’ve never been good at doing presentations. It was my biggest weakness in school, along with standing on a stage. I take a deep breath, grab my investment plan, and stand up from my desk. “Very well.”

  You got this, Petra. Saturday you will be by the pool with Emma, celebrating and drinking watermelon juice. I try t
o picture the most amazing weekend as I leave the investment floor and head upstairs to Alex’s office.

  “Hi, Cate. I’m Petra Williams. I have a meeting with Mr. Van Dieren.”

  I feel Cate checking me out. After all, I’m not dressed as formally as the other interns, and since no one has criticized me for that, I’ve decided to wear jeans and a shirt again for work. I brought a navy blazer for the “corporate touch,” but now I recall I left it hanging on the back of my chair.

  I think twice about going back to get it, but it’s too late—Cate’s already walking toward the door. “Indeed, be quick. He’s got another meeting in ten minutes.”

  She knocks on his door, opens it, and invites me in.

  I release a breath louder than usual and step into his office.

  “Williams. How are you doing today?” I smile at the Williams. Alex’s in a good mood. He leaves his chair and walks toward me to shake my hand.

  “I’m well, Mr. Van Dieren. Thank you.”

  With only ten minutes available, I decide to jump right in and get it over with as soon as possible. “I won’t take much of your time. Here is the investment plan just for your perusal.” I hand him the file. Alex doesn’t open it. Instead, he sits slightly on the edge of his desk. “I’m thinking of dividing the fund into three categories based on the current and projected worth of the artists I’ve selected. Stage one: artists with a current value between fifteen thousand and fifty thousand dollars—we can expect the four artists I’ve chosen to break the one-hundred-thousand-dollar mark within twenty-four months, as their new collections are not only very positively critiqued, but they also have significant exhibitions coming up. Stage two: artists who have already had international exhibitions and have established their brand. And stage three: artists worth one hundred thousand dollars up to two hundred and fifty thousand dollars—these are the ones who can become multimillion-dollar shooting stars, either in their lifetime or after. I can’t guarantee they will become a Gerhard Richter or a Jeff Koons, but at least a cool two to three million per piece is achievable. The arti—”

  “What do we do with the artwork?” he interjects. “It’s not like stocks; those are real material objects.”

  “Well, there are two options: either we spend money to keep them locked in a warehouse, which I don’t recommend, or—and this is the second part of my plan—we lease them to galleries and museums so we can start generating revenue from our collection straightaway. I’m preparing an Excel sheet where we’ll manage the profits we are generating with each lease. As soon as we buy a Mr. Brainwash, for instance, we can lease it to many contemporary galleries downtown—they all love his work. We can expand this into a worldwide business model. On page eight I have the list of paintings I would like to acquire and the artists I’m interested in.”

  Alex nods, with a thoughtful air. “Sounds like a good plan. You can go ahead.” He stands up and moves back to his chair.

  “But you didn’t check out the artists and paintings… What if you don’t like them?”

  “It’s irrelevant if I like them or not; if you did your due diligence on them, I trust you.”

  The phone rings. As Alex takes the call, I know it’s time for me to leave. I thank him and quickly retire.

  Once I leave his office, a huge weight slips from my shoulders. Yes! I made it! I take the stairs down to the investment floor. I feel like hugging everyone, standing on my desk, dancing, and ordering tequilas for everyone. But I’m not Jordan Belfort. I just smile at Andrew, who’s staring and wondering how it went—all of a sudden, he looks cute and inoffensive.

  “He approved it. Oh yeah,” I reply, doing a quick happy dance in front of him. “You see this one-point-five million-dollar fund? It’s just the beginning, I’m telling ya.”

  “Alright, enough, Williams. I got it. Just bring the cash back.”

  “Babe, I’ll bring more than the cash back.” I bite my tongue—that babe was a bit too much, but for now I couldn’t care less. I’m not even eighteen, yet here I am getting my own fund to invest in my biggest passion. I know I would’ve never had such an opportunity if I wasn’t a Van Gatt, but right now, at this precise moment, no one on this floor knows it but me.

  The Hamptons, June 8, 2019

  Mr. and Mrs. Hasenfratz have decided to host a summer gathering at their beach villa on Long Island—a small celebration before their dear and cherished daughter leaves for a culturally insightful European escapade. Ahem… Right… Though they don’t know how wild it will be, Emma and her squad have every intention of making it pretty insane, naughty, and memorable.

  I join them for the weekend—a well-deserved break to chill. As I pictured, I’m finally lying in the pool, a freshly squeezed watermelon juice in one hand, and enjoying Emma’s continual chitchat about her latest conquests. “Laura, Carol, and I will be in Europe for the whole summer. Are you sure you don’t want to join us?”

  “I’m actually quite busy these coming months with the internship. I’m investing in artwork to lease to galleries and museums. You know, I’m building up a nice collection. Alex approved my investment plan more easily than I thought.”

  “With such determination, you’ll have your own gallery in no time, babygirl.”

  “Well, the fund profits will go to Gatt-Dieren Capital. I’m entitled to a percentage, but not everything.”

  “I see. Any cute interns or executives around?”

  I shake my head in amusement. This Emma will never change. “Except the one you know, I don’t think so.”

  “Damn, you’re such a lucky girl to have that hottie as your godfather.” I can’t help but blush at her enthusiasm. “Have you ever thought about…” she lets her words trail off while studying me.

  “Thought about?”

  “Well, you know… taking advantage of the situation…”

  I blink twice in confusion. “What situation?”

  “Oh, c’mon! Don’t be that naive. He’s not only handsome, but he also seems to care a lot about you… Maybe you could—”

  “What’re you doing after the summer?” I promptly ask, changing the subject.

  Emma chuckles, quite amused to see me that embarrassed from her talk. “I’m moving to Bali.”

  What? I nearly choke on her answer, my heart skipping a beat. “You can’t be serious. Are you really gonna leave New York for good?”

  “It’s just for a couple of months, maybe half a year. I have friends living there, so why not?”

  “Half a year? You can’t leave me alone. What am I gonna do here without my bestie?”

  “Oh, babygirl, you’re the sweetest. But you’ve got your life all figured out. Your dad must be proud. You’re building an amazing career for yourself. Then you’ve got your college planned at Columbia, and you’ll meet other like-minded people.” Emma sighs. “I need to figure out what I want in life.”

  I feel my eyes watering. I want to convince her to stay, to remain here… but I know she craves adrenaline and globe-trotting. It’d be selfish not to encourage her.

  “Well, New York without the one and only Emma Hasenfratz won’t be the same, believe me.” I give her a deep, big hug, my heart heavy and in pain. Emma hasn’t left yet, but I’m already missing her. We’ve been through so many adventures over the years, so much gossip, secrets, scandals, and above all, so much laughter. And now my big sister is leaving New York for at least six months. I let out a sigh, containing my tears.

  “Would you at least promise to be here for my birthday? It’s December fifth, in case you don’t remember…”

  “Babygirl, I won’t miss your eighteenth birthday for anything in this world. Ms. Hasenfratz will host the most exciting and daring party this city has ever had.”

  At 1:20 a.m., I wish sleeping were easier. But the talk with Emma hasn’t left my mind since this afternoon. Not the one that she is leaving for Bali. No… Unfortunately, the other one. The one I wanted to avoid. So pathetic, Petra. Of course he’s nice and caring. After all, he�
�s your godfather…

  But as she said, what if we could…

  Nope. Stop right here. You said no more boys.

  I know, but Alex is not a boy, he is a man… and a very special one, actually.

  Forget it. You’ll always be his goddaughter. That’s it. He’ll never look at you differently. Now stop being silly and sleep!

  Indeed, I promised myself I’d focus and that’s what I’ve got to do. I close my eyes and force such thoughts away.

  Chapter 10

  Manhattan, August 20, 2019

  Petra Van Gatt

  Emma has been gone for over two months. The tabloids and blogs say she has met a Saudi prince in the south of France and is partying with him and his friends all over the Mediterranean. But sadly I haven’t had time to chat with her about it. I have to make sure my entire art collection gets leased by galleries and museums in order to generate the income I’ve forecasted. Everything must be negotiated and sorted out before I finish this internship. Luckily, I’ve invested only in artists I know will be in high demand.

  “Why’s everyone leaving their desks?” I ask Rach, who’s sitting beside me.

  “Andrew wants to talk to the interns,” she replies, standing up.

  I do the same and follow her, wondering why I didn’t know about it. We walk down to one of the small conference rooms. Since all the chairs are already taken, we have to stand near the door.

  Andrew arrives, his pace dynamic, positioning himself in front. He’s holding a rugby ball, rolling it between his fingers, gently tossing it up and down and catching it. I wonder why. Maybe he’s going to a game after work.

  “Thank you all for coming.” But he doesn’t say more. He waits for the whispers and murmurs to stop.

  The room finally becomes silent.

  “Very well, I gathered you here because I’ll be attending a conference in Rome next week. And the exciting news is, I’ve selected seven of you to join me for three days in the Italian capital.” He pauses, smiling at the curious and excited faces in the crowd. “This’ll be an amazing networking opportunity,” he asserts, the tone as enthusiastic. “Think hedge fund managers, executives, private bankers, big players, all in one place. So you better have your business cards ready.”