The Cornish Knot

by Vicky Adin

  How could she do this? Not alone, she knew. Christmas was approaching, could she tie in the gallery idea as her gift to them?

  Fizzing with ideas and excitement Megan called the family together. “Here comes the tricky part. I want to make this gallery idea work, but I can’t do it by myself.”

  Sarah sat pensive and thoughtful, Nick waited patiently, Trina perched on the edge of her seat, excited and Jason didn’t see how he could help with anything.

  “I need partners. I need people with skills I don’t have, and I want my family involved.”

  Megan decided to appeal to Nick first, knowing his life’s ambition was to set up his own business. She thought she’d be on safe ground with him. “Nick. I want to buy your services, please.”

  “Of course, but you don’t have to buy them. What do you want done?”

  “No. Let’s get this straight,” insisted Megan. “None of this is to be done as a favour. It has to be on a business footing or it won’t work. I would like to engage Nicholas Woodhouse Architects to draw up the plans for the gallery.”

  “Slight problem there, Megan. I work for someone else, I’m not a registered company and the boss wouldn’t let me moonlight. He takes the cream – and far too many shortcuts for my liking. I’ll find you someone suitable.”

  “Nick,” blurted Sarah, “I think Mum is offering you the chance to set up your own company.”

  “Sarah’s right. I don’t want anyone else. I want you. I want to be your first customer. Will you accept?”

  Nick hesitated. “Nice idea, but I need more than one client to make a viable business, Megan.”

  Understanding his reluctance, Megan explained her offer. “I’m prepared to put up the money to begin with as a silent partner in the company or, if it makes you more comfortable, provide an interest-free loan.”

  Nick listened to her arguments but still didn’t respond.

  Megan pushed her case. “Think of this as the chance to tell your boss what you think of him and then leave him to it.”

  “How can I resist an opportunity like that? I’d love to tell him where to go. But I’m not at all sure about taking more money from you.”

  “You won’t be. This would be a loan.”

  With her new sense of purpose and an instinct she was on the right track, Megan’s confidence had grown to the point of certainty. She had thought out every angle and carefully planned how she could work to each of their strengths. Constance might have bought loyalty by tying everyone up in knots, but she wanted to do the opposite and give her family opportunities with no strings attached and no barriers. This money was as much theirs as it was hers.

  “Okay. I’m a starter. Provisionally. But we will need to talk terms.”

  Megan nodded. One down. “Thank you. But remember, this is all about me. I want to do this for my family – the whole family – past, present and future. But I need you all to see it through.”

  She decided Trina would also relish the idea. Megan remembered how the girl had glowed in Florence when they visited the galleries and she’d talked about owning her own gallery one day.

  “So Trina, I’d like to hire you as the gallery manager. You know all about galleries and ...”

  “That’s not fair, Mum,” butted in Jason. “We’re about to have a baby. You can’t expect Trina to work.”

  “Jason!” interrupted Trina, playing into Megan’s hand. “Just listen, please.”

  Trina was hooked.

  “There’s nothing to do at the moment other than express an opinion. I don’t even have a property or prospect in mind. That’s where you all come in.” Megan thought that would put his mind at rest, but seemingly not.

  “Mum! What’s got into you? We’ve only just got here and you’re planning our lives to fit your idea of what we want.”

  Trina clutched Jason’s arm and shook her head, stopping him from saying anything further.

  “I’m sorry, Jason. What have I done to offend you? I thought you would like to be part of it. You don’t have to, of course, but talk it over with Trina before you decide.”

  Why was he cross with her? What had she done to upset him?

  “Now, Sarah, my darling. I have a special request of you. I need a business manager – at least, I think that’s what it’s called. Someone to do the networking, establish our brand identity and do the advertising and promotional work. We can hire someone else to run the office and do the accounts. Would you do that?” She hesitated, uncertain now of Sarah’s reaction after Jason’s outburst. She gabbled on. “Or do you want to do something else? It’s just I know you are unhappy in your job and I thought this might be a good alternative for you.”

  Sarah sat silent while the seconds drew out.

  “For once I agree with Jason. You’ve been going off half-cocked ever since you came home. You keep coming up with bright ideas and making plans without talking to us first and then expecting us to fit in. How do you know this will work? It’s very risky.”

  Megan’s earlier buoyant mood and self-confidence was slipping. The happy atmosphere of the day had shifted into wariness and unease. In contrast to what she had expected, only Trina seemed genuinely interested in her proposal. She didn’t think Nick would refuse the chance of his own business, but he’d do nothing without talking to Sarah, and without her agreement, it would end there.

  “I just wanted to have everything set up ready so I could ...”

  “But it’s our lives, Mum. You’re beginning to sound like Constance,” Jason snapped.

  Megan was horrified. She wasn’t being like Constance. Just the opposite.

  “Mum,” began Sarah more gently. “I know you mean well, but you are organising us into things we are not sure we want to be organised into.”

  “No. No. You’ve got it all wrong. I just want to do what’s best for you,” flustered Megan.

  She had listened for months to their wistful comments about what they would like from life and had gone about her plans with all these ideas in mind.

  “I know you do, but we need to decide what that is, not you.”

  Megan’s face fell and her heart lay heavy. Maybe she still had a lot to learn about trusting in her own judgment after all. If she’d talked this over with Tony, he would have seen the pitfalls and never let her walk into them. “But I had such plans,” her voice sounded deflated, and she felt rebuffed, “such high hopes this was the right thing to do.”

  Her dreams were crumbling, and she was lost in her own uncertainty again, just as she thought she was taking control of her life. But she would fulfil Constance’s wishes to honour Isabel, with or without her children’s support. She would find a way.

  Trina had sat quietly throughout the exchange, hardly saying anything. “Can I ask a few questions, please?”

  “Of course. Anything you like,” answered Megan flatly.

  “What sort of gallery? One that displays paintings, one that sells on behalf of new artists or one that sells prints?”

  “I really don’t know. I was looking to you all for advice and direction. I had hoped to display Wil’s painting of Isabel and Constance somewhere special. The gallery could have used it as a feature, but it can live at home. I’d even thought we could name the gallery after Isabel or one of her nicknames. Would the artist-in-residence programme work in somehow? I don’t know. I’m not so sure now. Maybe it’s a silly idea after all.”

  “If I took this on, I would like to do further study to complete my qualifications.”

  Jason looked at his wife in astonishment. “Don’t you think we should talk this over first?”

  “And let Megan give up on the idea before it gets off the ground? No, I don’t think so. Let’s talk about it now.”

  Jason clearly didn’t like Trina’s answer. He immediately got up from the chair, poured a drink and went to stand on the balcony, within earshot but plainly with no intention of taking part in any further discussion.

  Megan, on the other hand, surprised Trina had bee
n the one to support her, brightened. “Absolutely. I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

  Trina continued to ask who would decide about the hanging, lighting, temperature control, security and how often the displays were changed, and a myriad of other questions beyond Megan’s understanding. Trina even knew what should be in her contract.

  From the balcony, Jason stared at his wife. His face portrayed varying degrees of consternation, astonishment and admiration. It seemed Jason was learning something new about her. Paul had spotted it back in Florence; now they were all learning – she was a talented and capable art professional who knew her trade.

  “Most of your questions are beyond my knowledge,” Megan smiled shakily at the girl. “To me, the gallery manager would do all of that. Trina, I know nothing about art, other than what I like. You are the one with experience in this field.”

  “And what if it doesn’t pay off?” Sarah challenged.

  Megan shrugged. Her initial feelings of excitement and euphoria were so deflated she could hardly conjure up any hope that Trina’s support alone would pull it through. “If it doesn’t work, then it’s a loss I can carry. I would still have the property to sell and other investments to call on if necessary, but there’s enough anyway. I can do this. We can use contract staff to begin with to limit our risk, and you would be the only one giving up a job. You could look at this as an opportunity, or a challenge, or you could retrain. It’s your choice, Sarah.”

  Her daughter didn’t answer. Nick decided to join Jason on the balcony while Trina, ignoring the conflict, voiced a few more thoughts.

  “I think we should only offer originals. People can buy prints anywhere, but if we are to build our reputation up to international standards, we need quality. I agree we need to support up-and-coming artists through the scholarship and residence programme. We will also need works by recognised artists, both New Zealand and overseas. But I wonder, did you have anyone in mind to select the international artwork?”

  Megan shook her head. She hadn’t given any thought that she might need such a person.

  “I think you should ask Paul,” said Trina. “He’d be perfect for the job.”

  Sarah’s attitude towards Paul had become benign since he’d returned overseas, but the mention of him being part of the family business was like a red rag to a bull.

  “Not you too! Why him?”

  If Trina was surprised at Sarah’s outburst, she didn’t show it. “Because he knows what he is doing. If we are to get this right, we need someone like him. So why not?”

  Sarah didn’t reply, just folded her arms and looked unimpressed.

  “This is none of my business, I know. I’m new to this family, but I am part of it now so ... I have to say I think your antagonism towards Paul is unfounded. He’s a nice guy. He is not a womaniser, a fly-by-nighter, a drunkard or a crook. He has a really good reputation in the art world and in Florence, in particular. He knows his stuff. We can trust him.”

  Trina’s quiet, calm confidence gave Megan courage. “Trina’s right, sweetheart.” Megan changed seats to sit beside her daughter on the sofa and patted the girl’s knee. “I thought we’d sorted this out?”

  Sarah had the grace to look uncomfortable. She released a deep sigh.

  “Oh, all right. I give in. I seem to be the only one who has any doubts, anyway. I just didn’t want to see you hurt, Mum. That’s all.”

  “I know, darling. But by being so anti-Paul, you’ve done what you accused me of doing – controlling me to fit your views. Can we just forgive and forget now and move on?”

  Sarah nodded. Briefly covering her mother’s hand with her own, she suddenly stood up, shrugged her shoulders back and, patently taking charge, called the men inside. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

  Chapter 37

  A few days later, Sarah and Trina were in full flight about what needed to be done. Megan didn’t know, and didn’t ask, what had been said to the men and to each other to change their minds. It no longer mattered. In that time, she had made a few decisions of her own.

  Slowly, she had come to the realisation that throughout her life she had relied on someone else to guide her: first her grandmother, then Tony and now her children were taking on that role. She had always let her destiny be determined by others. With Tony it was a shared experience, one she willingly engaged in, but no longer. She would fulfil Constance’s wishes to honour Isabel in the way she wanted to.

  Thinking back, she knew she had come a long way since those dark days of black hopelessness that had dogged her. Her children would never understand. Neither could she expect them to, but sinking into those depths had changed her. She told herself she would find a way, but in the end that way had come to her.

  Megan was glad to have Trina on her side even while she knew it suited the girl. First task was to find a suitable venue, and Trina was keen and chock-full of ideas.

  “Are you sure you are up to it?” checked Megan, knowing the baby was due in about three weeks. “What does Jason think?”

  “Jason didn’t want me to take it on at first, I admit. But I told him this was the opportunity of a lifetime and he couldn’t take it away from me. I’ll be okay. I won’t do anything silly, I promise.”

  Megan ended up being swept along, rather than leading the charge, such was the change in Sarah and Jason once Trina had given her approval. Her daughter-in-law’s endorsement was the final seal of validity needed to prove this wasn’t just a madcap idea of their poor misguided mother’s. Paul had often told her Trina was a strong-minded young woman and was being proved right.

  Megan decided it was best for her to just go with the flow and let them take ownership of the project. In the long run, it would suit her purposes better than they could imagine.

  “I can’t tell you how excited I am,” said Trina, “and honoured you thought of me. It’s exactly my ... what did you call it, Sarah? My cup of tea?”

  Recalling their time in Florence, the three women laughed together, happy to be of one accord again. Sarah was just as excited as Trina now but had decided to stick with her job for the meantime, which allowed Nick the freedom to quit his.

  “Once he’s finalised the set-up and legal details of the new company and started your project, we’ll see what happens next. I need more time to think through your offer while I decide whether to pursue my career, change direction or commit to the gallery.”

  The three of them spent the rest of the day checking Internet sites, making phone calls and talking to some agents. Megan watched and listened as the two women made plans and negotiated deals, set up appointments and created timetables and wished she had had their sense of worth and self-assurance in her younger years, but better late than never.

  As they drove to their first appointments, Megan delighted in Trina’s enthusiasm, but their search ended almost before it had begun. On their third visit, they found what they were looking for. A stand-alone villa just off the main shopping strip near Ponsonby, currently being used as an office, was perfect. Negotiations didn’t take long and, as an early settlement date suited the vacating tenant, Megan quickly became the owner of her new art gallery.

  With the Christmas holiday period approaching fast, Nick wanted everything ready to submit to council beforehand to avoid any delays in getting the necessary consents. With many an idea of what was needed, Megan and Trina spent hours with Nick as they pored over plans and sketched ideas on paper. Meanwhile Sarah had discovered a new skill as a designer and set up the new websites for both the gallery and Nick’s practice, and started a blog page. The two girls then started work on the colours, fittings and layout and once those were exhausted, got down to the invitation lists.

  “There has to be a grand gala opening,” insisted Trina.

  Next was a name.

  “I had so much trouble coming up with the company name in the first place and no amount of alliterations, family names or Cornish references seemed right. I need help,” said Megan.

  “It can
’t be that hard,” said Sarah. “What were you thinking of?”

  “I’d like something that would acknowledge how the whole thing started. Without Isabel’s journal – and the money from Constance – none of this would have happened. Only after I learnt of Isabel’s love of art, did I have the idea of a gallery in the first place.”

  “So what’s wrong with calling it ‘Isabel’s’ or ‘Constance’ or maybe ‘Isabel’s Legacy’?”

  “I think we need something more modern, something to move forward with the times. Names only mean something to us.”

  “I agree with Megan,” said Trina. “If the gallery is to become international, it has to have a professional sounding name. Something with impact but easy to remember.”

  Different ideas were tossed back and forth over the next few days. Some caused mirth, others derision. Megan almost felt happy the task proved more difficult than they’d expected. Finally, Nick came up with the one word needed. Jaws dropped, eyes lit up, surprise, followed by approval, written on everyone’s face.

  “Brilliant,” said Megan, clapping her hands. “Let’s keep it a secret until the opening.”

  * * * * *

  Christmas Day was fantastic. Nick’s family joined the shared picnic barbecue on the beach, with food to rival the feast Trina’s family had put on for her in Florence a little over six months ago. Paul had couriered a parcel, heavily packaged, with instructions it only be opened on Christmas Day. ‘Hope you like it. I’ll be back in April’, he wrote in the card.

  The package almost created a gala event of its own when Megan showed the family.

  Later that evening back at home, Megan held the sepia image of Isabel and child in her hand. The same image Paul had seen in Cornwall. It was only a copy, he’d written, printed onto canvas, aged and framed to the best of his ability. Megan didn’t care if it was a copy or not, it was stunning. Paul had been right. Whoever drew this was highly skilled and very much in love with the subject. Megan was even more convinced the art gallery was the right choice to honour Isabel. She hung the portrait in pride of place in her apartment. This one was private.