Gala was famous for wearing the latest avant-garde couture designs to the eclectic performances that Dali arranged for the display of his latest paintings. It spoke of an incredibly confident persona to pull off the Gala impression so well.
The line moved quickly. Most of the attendees seemed to be sponsors and Dali Museum members with no real connection to the artist.
As soon as Savannah and Edward reached the front of the line, the artist smiled like a Cheshire cat. “Savannah, Savannah. I’m so glad you could be here.” He held her upper arms and gave her a quick peck on both cheeks, European style. He turned to wrap an arm about the woman next to him and gave her a side hug. “This is my long-suffering and inspirational wife, Harriet. She’s my muse and my model just as Gala was for Dali.” He raised his wife’s hand to his lips as he continued to look at Savannah.
Harriet glanced at him wearing a much practiced closed-mouth smile.
Savannah tucked her hand into Edward’s arm. “This is Edward Morris. He owns the Queen’s Head Pub right next to Webb’s Glass Shop.” Why can’t I say boyfriend? Just because my last relationship ended in disaster doesn’t mean that this one will, too. “It’s a major leader in St. Petersburg’s new identity as a foodie destination.” Savannah could feel a deep flush creep into her cheeks.
Why? Probably because it sounds juvenile. But I’m not bold enough to say partner or lover, either. Maybe I completely deserve to be called a girl.
Dennis smiled kindly at Savannah. She flushed even more.
She cleared her suddenly scratchy throat. “I’m so pleased you’ll be coming over to my new studio to give a presentation to my etching students. Oh, and the personal tour of your exhibit is going to be the highlight of this week’s workshop. I can’t thank you enough.”
Edward wrapped an arm around Savannah’s shoulders and gave her a little side hug. “I’d be pleased to have you and your wife as our guests at Queen’s Head Pub for a chef’s table experience in the kitchen.”
Harriet looked up at Edward. “Oh, that would be delicious! I’ve heard good things about the food and your online reviews are fabulous.”
Dennis reached into the inside of his jacket pocket. “I have something for you that I think you would like to see.”
Savannah had opened her mouth to respond when a woman in a royal blue, raw silk dress bustled up to Dennis and barged into the middle of the group of guests waiting to speak to him.
“Dennis, my darling, I must take you and Harriet away for a private tour with the governor of Florida, our senator, and naturally, of course, the mayor of St. Petersburg.” She grabbed Dennis and Harriet by the elbow and literally dragged them away.
“But there are guests here who have been waiting.” Savannah looked crossly at Harriet and Gina.
Gina looked back at the startled waiting line. “We can’t keep the officials waiting, you know. We’re dependent on city and state funding for some of our exhibits . . . this one included.”
Edward frowned. “That was incredibly rude and the kind of treatment no one in this queue could possibly deserve. She should have apologized.”
They both looked at the quickly retreating trio. Savannah looked down at Edward. “She did say excuse me. Would you like more hors d’oeuvres or maybe another glass of champagne, I hope?”
“No.” He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. “I’d rather spend the rest of the evening at home with you and your goofy dog Rooney. This crowd is giving me a chill.”
“Good plan.” She smiled and whispered over the mumbling in the line of guests behind them, “I guess we’re definitely not A-listers.”
Chapter 2
Monday morning
“Don’t touch that!” Savannah Webb shouted at the pair of elderly twins over the high-pitched whine of the sandblasting equipment.
The loud warning did nothing to stop Rachel and Faith Rosenberg for a second. They were standing right next to the sandblasting cabinet on the outdoor patio of Webb’s Studio. But like a cat who stares at you while knocking your coffee cup off the counter, one of them deliberately opened the access door on the side of the cabinet and sand whooshed out in a huge cloud.
All four class members tried to escape the powerful cloud of dust by ducking away, waving their hands, turning their backs, and covering their mouths. Everything was futile. The dust puffed out and covered everything within a ten-foot circle.
Savannah’s shock delayed the release of her grip on the sand-etching nozzle and she dropped the dish she was etching into the bottom of the cabinet. She quickly slipped her hands and arms out of the protective sleeves that extended into the sandblasting cabinet, reached around the side, and closed the access door.
After brushing the sand from her face and clothes, then spitting inelegantly onto the ground beyond the border of the small cement patio, Savannah turned to face the twins. They were both dancing a jig to slap the sand out of their newly treated lavender hair and the perfectly matched lavender capri pants, snug fitting camp shirts, and ballet flats. Their antics were surprisingly agile for the near-eighty-year-olds.
Savannah felt her scalp tingle as she heard her voice rise in both pitch and volume. “What were you thinking? I just talked everyone through all the safety steps.”
Faith answered first. “But you didn’t fully latch the door after the demonstration. It simply looked like it was latched.”
“But it wasn’t,” continued Rachel. “Otherwise, the door wouldn’t have opened.”
Savannah looked at the access door and there was the safety latch swinging loose. She palmed her forehead and exhaled in a quick puff. “You’re right. I forgot. Oh my goodness. I’m so sorry I shouted.” She stopped for a moment, looked at the scene of dancing students, and began to laugh uncontrollably. One by one the students joined her.
“I’m glad you yelled,” said Arthur Young, a middle-aged man who was a regular student of Webb’s Studio.
The repurposed warehouse was Savannah’s latest business expansion. It provided work space to intermediate level glass artists.
“It gave me enough time to back away.” He stopped laughing abruptly. Then he widened his eyes and stood stiff. “Uh, I need to go—now!” He bolted for the back door, opened it, and rushed inside.
“Too bad,” said Faith. “He seemed to be getting better. You know, with the Crohn’s incidents.”
“This may set him back a few weeks.” Rachel shook her head slowly from side to side. “How annoying, but at least the bathroom is just inside.”
Crohn’s disease is a condition that causes inflammation of the wall of the gut. That can lead to diarrhea, abdominal cramping, and weight loss.
“Did you tell him about avoiding dairy?” asked Faith.
“He said he was just starting a new vegan diet. That’s why he’s been doing a bit better.”
“Okay let’s settle down.” Savannah caught her breath and wiped the laughter tears from her eyes. “Luckily, we all had our safety glasses on, so no eye issues. Also, the breeze out here took the dust away quickly. How are you?” she asked the last of her students.
“I’m completely unscathed,” said Edith Maloney. “What a good thing I was standing behind Arthur, who was also standing behind Rachel and Faith. Will this delay your instruction? I have another appointment immediately after class.”
“Not really.” Savannah scrubbed her hands through her short curly black hair to release a miniature cloud of dust. “I was going to demonstrate the fine points of cleaning the equipment later in the workshop sequence, but this accident provides an excellent opportunity. We’ll just move it up to today’s lesson. Oh yes, Edith, we’ll definitely end class on time.”
“That’s a relief,” said Edith. “I was so happy to see such an early class time.”
“It’s an experiment I’m trying for our more advanced classes. Also, starting at seven a.m. for a two-hour class helps avoid the heat of the day as well as the afternoon thunderstorms—extremely important factors whe
n working outside in Florida’s steamy autumn heat.”
Savannah led the students through the detailed steps for proper maintenance of the sandblasting equipment. She explained the setup and they all took turns checking the compressor, the sandblasting cabinet, and the dust collector. After the equipment had been thoroughly cleaned and readied for operation, she showed them how to break it down. Then they moved everything into the storage room inside Webb’s Studio.
“As you witnessed this morning ”—Savannah glowered in jest at the twins—“sand etching can be unexpectedly messy. Storing the equipment inside, then setting it up on the back patio for use, is a sensible precaution. Cleaning the entire studio of sand is a task I don’t ever want to tackle ever. Ever.”
Arthur raised his hand. “What if it’s raining?”
“Good question.” She paused and pressed her lips together. “It hasn’t come up yet, but I think if I accept a commission that requires a short turnaround and need to sand etch in the rain, I’ll buy one of those easy-to-set-up exhibit tents to use as a shelter. Typically, it’s not likely I would need to go to such an extreme. Our Florida rains are either torrential or a fine mist hardly worth calling rain. The downbursts usually give us about a ten-minute rumbling thunder as a warning so I can drag everything inside.”
Edith glanced at her Rolex. “I’m sorry, but I’ve simply got to leave for my next appointment.” She looked at each student in turn. “Please excuse me.” She grabbed her large pale green Prada purse and quickly stepped out the front door.
Rachel and Faith turned to each other and raised their eyebrows. Then they each turned to Savannah.
“Who is she?” Rachel asked. “We haven’t seen her before and your requirements for this class were quite clear. It is aimed at the intermediate level student . . . not at beginner level.”
“Yes,” said Faith. “We’ve been to every Webb’s Glass Shop class for years now. We’re definitely advanced students.”
Not so much in skill level but an entertaining fixture in each class.
Savannah nodded agreement. “You’re right. She came with class experience from a school down in Sarasota. She had a letter of reference and brought several finished pieces for me to evaluate. She’ll be fine. Why do you want to know? Has she said something?”
The twins looked at each other and shrugged simultaneously. “It seems strange that she would be making things hard for herself,” said Faith.
“Sarasota is at least an hour’s drive, but she seems to have urgent business in St. Pete,” said Rachel.
Savannah shook her head. “She’s going to make etched glass awards for one of the Sarasota charity events and it doubles as her class project. I think she only needs a few.”
Faith patted Savannah on the shoulder. “If that makes you feel better, dear. Anyway, we’ll see you tomorrow. I hope you forgive me for the kerfuffle.”
“So, it was you.” Savannah slowly shook her head and smiled. “I couldn’t tell in the cloud. It wouldn’t be a Webb’s Glass Shop class without you two. Okay, everyone, I’ll see you tomorrow at seven sharp.”
The twins left through the front door and nearly bumped into Jacob Underwood, the apprentice that Savannah’s dad had hired shortly before he died. She continued with his education as a tribute to John Webb’s memory. Jacob was a little over eighteen, lanky and dark-haired. He was holding Suzy, his trusty brown, tan, and white Beagle service dog. Suzy was trained to assist Jacob to control the panic attacks that occasionally struck him when he was under stress. He walked up to Savannah and deliberately looked her in the eyes. “Good morning, Miss Savannah. How are you?”
“I am very well, Jacob. Thank you for asking.”
A flash of relief played across his face and he looked down at the floor. “I’m practicing my social skills. Mom says I will need to be much better if I want to work with clients on glass commissions.”
“What a good start, Jacob.” Savannah’s chest filled with pride. Jacob had what used to be known as Asperger’s Syndrome and thrived in the routine—but creative—work of stained glass design and repair. “Good customer relations bring repeat business, along with referrals from satisfied customers. A little practice making eye contact every day will make it more comfortable for you. It may never be easy, but it will certainly be more comfortable.” She scratched Suzy behind her ears. “Good morning to you as well.”
Suzy licked her hand, then turned her gaze back to Jacob.
Jacob smiled slightly, and without another word walked quickly into his workroom to perform his first task of the day. He sat in his chair and slipped rubber booties on Suzy so she could run free in the studio without collecting stray shards of glass in her paws. Suzy looked up at him with her pleading big brown eyes, and performed an awkward goose stepping circle, but she relented to the shoes and settled into the routine of Jacob’s day.
Savannah realized she was smiling. Jacob’s efforts to socialize were strongly encouraged by his mother, Frances Underwood, a juvenile court judge. Only last week, they met for a long lunch at the swanky Vinoy Hotel at Frances’s expense to discuss specific scenarios for Jacob to practice. This was his first attempt at making eye contact.
A tap on her shoulder interrupted Savannah’s thoughts.
Arthur stood behind her, grinning like a possum. “I’m staying for a while to work on my new project. This early class is a great way to get me up and out of the house. I think it will help me create enough pieces for the next Second Saturday Art Walk. I want to thank you for encouraging me to participate.” He laughed. “Although, prodding is probably more accurate in my case.”
“A big part of my long-term plan is to inform the more advanced glass students about the mechanics of managing the financial side of this business. There’s so much to learn about pricing, marketing, and promoting yourself, and I want to share the knowledge.”
Arthur nodded. “It’s overwhelming and then there’s the fear that your work isn’t good enough.” He turned and walked back to his private studio space two doors down from Savannah’s office along the back wall of the building.
Savannah had no sooner sat in her office chair when the front door opened. In walked Officer Joy Williams of the St. Petersburg Police Department, smartly dressed in a brand-new, freshly pressed dark blue uniform.
Savannah walked out into the exhibit space to greet her. “Joy, I haven’t heard from you for a couple weeks. The new uniform looks great!”
The darker hue lent a natural authority. For Joy, a petite woman of color with neat braids coiled at the base of her slim neck, Savannah thought it would add a significant boost to her official presence.
“Was I happy to get rid of those white shirts trimmed in green over those horrible green trousers? Absolutely.” She twirled a little spin. “I’m so lucky. I’m one of the trial squad members to give the new model a shakedown run. I love the pockets, the fit, and it’s got a wicking thing going so it doesn’t lose its shape. I was concerned about the dark color absorbing heat. We do live in hot, hotter, and hottest Florida, but this new fabric keeps me cool. The best thing is that the dark color doesn’t shine up like a beacon at night. This will save lives.”
“It looks professional. Didn’t we say we would meet for lunch?”
Joy rubbed the back of her neck. “I’m sorry. It’s completely my fault. I promised we’d get together for a beer and a good chat, but I’ve been preoccupied in trying to make a good impression with Detective Parker. I haven’t gotten a lecture lately, but that doesn’t mean one isn’t about to happen.”
Savannah laughed. She had worked with Officer Williams and Detective Parker on a murder case a few months ago. Officer Williams was the first woman of color to join the Homicide Division. She had a right to be worried about her perceived performance. Although she felt welcomed and a valuable part of the division, she was acutely aware she was the first and that meant all others would be judged by her example. The future of many young women to follow depended on her ability to
achieve success. She appeared to be handling the pressure well.
“Yep, I’ve been on the receiving end of more than one of those lectures,” said Savannah. “They’re extremely uncomfortable in the heat of the moment, but I’ve always learned something vital. Every. Single. Time.”
“I know the feeling. Anyway, I’m stopping by to invite you to participate as a consultant on a current case. The body of a young man was found early this morning at the Dali Museum. There is definitely an art community connection and Detective Parker wanted me to ask if you would be interested in helping out.”
“Oh my goodness. What happened? I was at the museum last night for the grand opening of a new glass exhibit. Was it someone who attended the party?”
“Yes. It was the artist himself, Dennis Lansing,” said Officer Williams.
Savannah’s hands flew to cover her mouth, then she let her hands fall away. A deep sadness struck her into breathlessness. “Dennis? But . . . I was going to . . .” She looked down for a moment, tried to calm her breathing, and pressed her lips together. “We were going to—Never mind. I was in the receiving line speaking to him when he was pulled away for a VIP tour of his works. I didn’t get a chance to say much to him. We left early to spend some quiet time at home.”
“You knew him?” Joy took out her notebook and began to scribble. “Was he the one you met in Seattle who was involved with your scholarship?”
“No, my Seattle boyfriend—” Savannah pressed her lips together and choked back a curse. She paused and then tilted her head. “Dennis was my very first boyfriend right here in St. Petersburg High School. We had been corresponding by e-mail after I found out he was the featured exhibitor for the Dali Museum.” She looked down at the floor. “I didn’t get a chance to speak to him in person until yesterday.”
“So, first thing. Where were you in the wee hours of this morning?”
Shattered at Sea Page 22