by Tina Michele
“Likewise, Ms. Blake. Welcome to our beloved gallery. I have heard wonderful things about you and your exceptional talent from Ainsley,” she said sincerely.
“I’m not certain how much she may even know about me, Mrs. Dencourt.” Morgan was still incredibly unsettled by this turn of events.
“Well, my dear. I know only what I’ve seen on your curriculum vitae, and while it is lacking much of what I would expect for a position of this level, Ainsley is an exceptional judge of character. If she believes that you possess the talent and requirements to perform the job, as the director, it is within her purview to retain you. Regardless of my opinions on the subject. I have faith in her faith.” She turned to Lee. “Well, I must be going. Again, it was lovely to meet you, Ms. Blake.”
Morgan felt like she’d been punched in the gut, twice.
Lee asked Morgan to have a seat before she walked her mother out, but Morgan had no intention of sitting. She was far too on edge to relax.
Was this some sort of cruel joke? Was it some power play by Lee to show Morgan how much better off she was, or was it some grandiose way for Lee to make an apology? No matter what the reasoning, Morgan was not comfortable with the feeling that she was a pawn in some game.
“I knew it. I knew this was too good to be true. How could I have actually thought that the Dencourt Gallery was interested in me for my abilities? I have no experience, and clearly your mother thinks you’ve made a terrible mistake, and I’m almost inclined to agree.” Morgan mumbled to herself as she paced near the window and stared blindly at the buildings in the distance.
“Because it’s true, and I haven’t made a mistake, a voice said from behind her, but Morgan didn’t turn around.
“You’re a brilliantly gifted woman. I have seen your work and your passion for it. I knew the moment I met you that you were everything I—this gallery—needed.”
Morgan finally turned around and looked at Lee. “How could you possibly know that? You knew me for two days. Two ridiculous days!” She was getting angry and did little to control the volume of her voice.
“Morgan, those two days were wonderful. I’m so sorry for what I did. There is no excuse for how I left things. I—”
“Is that what this is?” Morgan motioned around her. “Some kind of apology? It seems a little extravagant for slipping out of town without a word, even if it was on the most important night of my life.”
“Morgan, No—I mean I am apologizing. I am sorry. But I needed a curator, and you’re the best that I’ve ever met, and—”
“No, Lee, or Ainsley, or Ms. Dencourt—whatever. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I let myself believe that this was some miracle opportunity for me. My chance to finally prove myself to people…people like you.” Morgan made her way to the door.
“Morgan, please stop.” Lee did beg this time.
Morgan looked into Lee’s eyes and then quickly away. “Look, I just don’t think that this is going to work out, Ms. Dencourt. I’ll clear my things from the office and be on my way.” Morgan stepped quickly into the hall and toward her office.
“Shit…shit…shit.” Lee sprinted after her. Everything was unraveling faster than she had expected.
Morgan was gathering a few personal items into her briefcase when Lee came in.
“I understand you’re mad,” Lee said.
“Mad? Ha, you haven’t seen me mad. This is, well, honestly, this is embarrassment and humiliation, and it’s how I deal with it,” Morgan said as she closed her case and brushed past her.
Lee grabbed her arm, and Morgan felt a jolt of electricity run through her. Lee must have felt it too because she let go as if she had been burned.
“Don’t go, Morgan,” Lee said as she looked into Morgan’s eyes.
“Lee…” Morgan lost her words as she stared back at Lee. Don’t get lost in those eyes, Morgan. Morgan looked away, and searched the room for something, anything, else to look at.
“Have dinner with me. Give me a chance. If after you still don’t think this could work, then you can go.” Lee positioned herself directly in front of Morgan.
“Lee…I….” Morgan tried to decline.
“Please. Dinner. That’s it. We’ll talk.” Lee looked at her with a pleading gaze.
“Lee, I just don’t….” Morgan’s resolve was fading quickly against her inner struggle to maintain it. The look in Lee’s eyes could so easily have been mistaken for desire. That was the problem. She had to get away.
“Thank you!” Lee stated before Morgan could actually say no. “I should be out of my last meeting by five. Is that okay?”
“Five is fine. Actually, if you don’t mind, I’m going to take off. I need to get some things straight in my head, but I’ll meet you in the lobby at five.”
“Okay. I understand. Five, in the lobby,” Lee agreed hesitantly.
“Until then.” Morgan nodded and made her way to the elevator. She felt Lee watching her but she refused to look back.
Chapter Fourteen
Morgan paced through her apartment. What was she going to do? This was the job of a lifetime. She knew it was all too good to be true from the moment she got the call from Alex. She had told her mother it wasn’t cosmic destiny, and it turned out that couldn’t be truer. Why would Lee go through all this trouble to bring her here, give her a position, find her a luxury apartment, and pay for her moving expenses? It all just seemed so extravagant and overboard for an apology, and she was sure that Lee wouldn’t sacrifice the future of her gallery with such an irresponsible act. After all, the Dencourt already had someone fully capable of filling the position without going outside or out of their way.
Morgan was more than educated for this position. Granted, it should have taken her at least ten to fifteen years of progressive museum work in order to get there. She was top of her class at the Yale School of Art, and the only American intern at Ecole de Louvre. She also had three of the most prestigious mentors and references in the art world. She could do this job, and she wanted this job more than anything she’d ever wanted in her life. Except for those two days in Paris when she found herself wanting nothing more than to hold and be held by Lee.
“Damn you, Ainsley Dencourt!”
The problem was that Morgan didn’t know now what or who she wanted more. If she quit, she’d not only be giving up the job, but she would also be giving up Lee. But if she kept the job, would she be doing it for the opportunities it held or because she couldn’t let herself walk out of Lee’s life? She needed to talk to someone. Dr. Melbeau was not an option, and her mother would only offer a supportive ear. She needed rational.
“I need to call Freddy.”
*
Lee sat in her office with her head in her hands. Honestly, she wasn’t sure that Morgan would even return. Lee had fought against every urge to grab her and hold on for fear that she would never see her again. Although it went as roughly as she had expected, part of her had hoped Morgan would be overjoyed to see her and thank her profusely for the opportunity. Lee knew Morgan had once thought of her as a spoiled rich kid gliding through life and school on name and money. Once upon a time that had been entirely true, but was now any different? Lee had manipulated Morgan into taking this position, but why? Why had she gone above and beyond to ensure that she offered an opportunity that no reasonable person would refuse? Lee had walked out on her, yes.
But they’d only really known each other a day, and it wasn’t like Lee owed her such an extravagantly devised apology. Lee knew what her gallery needed in order to progress, and when she needed to find a curator, she could think of only one person that she wanted to fill the spot. It was a risky decision and one she knew she would hear about for the next six months, if Morgan stayed. Lee needed to convince her to stay, and she had only a few hours to do it.
“Alex!” Lee yelled instead of using the intercom.
Alex arrived within a second, flinging the door open without a knock. “Oh my God, are you okay? What’s wrong?”
&nb
sp; Lee looked up at Alex’s concerned face and laughed. “You look like someone just terrified you.”
“Uhh…someone just did! Why are you screaming?”
Lee chuckled. “Sorry. That was a little out of character.” Lee saw the panic in Alex’s face. Alex had worked at the gallery long enough to know that the Dencourts liked things rigid, organized, and predictable. This situation wasn’t any of those things, and the problem was that Lee was enjoying it.
“A little?”
“Okay…more than a little. Anyway, since you’re here and clearly alert…” Lee chuckled again, shrugging off the panic caused by her momentary lapse in self-control. “Can you please make a reservation for two at Locale for five thirty tonight? And have Adam bring the car at—no, no car. I’ll drive.” She remembered Morgan’s trepidation about the car that night in Paris. “She’ll be more at ease if I drive,” Lee muttered quietly.
“What are you saying? What is going on with you, Lee? What happened with Morgan earlier?”
“What? Oh nothing. Everything’s fine. Just reservations. No car. That’s it.” Lee could tell that Alex was beginning to get concerned. Who could blame her? Lee herself thought she was spinning like a car on ice. Lee slipped into a daze and Alex quietly left the room.
*
“Freddy…”
“Well, hello, gorgeous. Where have you been all my life?”
“Right under your nose if you’d only take the time to look,” Morgan said halfheartedly. Flirting and banter were prerequisites for conversations with Freddy, even if they were out of place and forced.
“Yikes…remind me not to look then. You don’t sound like my type at all. What’s wrong, sugar?”
Morgan started to explain, but Freddy cut her off. “Slow down, pumpkin. I’m clearly missing part of this story. Your new boss is who?”
“Ainsley Dencourt. You would know her as Lee, also known as dark-haired goddess from Yale, and or the woman that stood me up on the night of the Cranach opening.”
“What? Wait…that Lee? Your fantasy woman and heartbreaker is the Ainsley Dencourt, daughter of Charles Dencourt, founder and director of one of the most impressive museums of American art and now herself the director?” Freddy spouted off like a New York Arts and Culture Magazine article.
“All the same…” Morgan slumped onto her couch and threw her head back.
“That’s so romantic!”
“Are you kidding? Did you hear anything I said?” Morgan scoffed and jolted upright.
“That’s not romantic?” Freddy asked.
“How is it romantic to stand someone up and then five months later move heaven and earth to manipulate them into taking a position too good to be true, and then after I’m moved, settled, and working, she appears out of nowhere and turns out to be my boss. Hell, not just my boss but the chairman and director of the whole damn place! If I’d known…” Morgan was speaking her thoughts so quickly she was lightheaded from not taking a breath.
“What? If you’d known that she was Director Dencourt, you what? Wouldn’t have taken the job? Really?” Freddy said sarcastically.
“Yes. No. Maybe. I don’t know!” Morgan threw her hands in the air, almost flinging her phone across the room.
“So what is the real problem, sweetheart? That you were manipulated, as you say, into taking a job that you are perfectly capable of doing or because it’s for her?”
“She just keeps appearing and disappearing from my life in the strangest of places, and it makes me feel like I have no control over it when she’s involved.”
“Right. So this woman threatens your organized and structured plans, and that drives you crazy—”
“Exactly!” Morgan agreed.
“I wasn’t finished, love. It drives you crazy because, for as long as I’ve known you, this woman has been the only thing other than Michelangelo’s frescoes that gets your blood pumping.”
“Yes. I mean, no! Dammit, Freddy! You’re making it worse!” Morgan growled.
“Okay…so what do you want to do? Quit? Go back to the farm and wait for another amazing opportunity to call you? Turn the tables so that you can be the one to walk out on her? It seems like career suicide to let a silly crush wreck your future.”
“It’s not a crush. It’s…there was something. Something happened that night in Paris that made me forget about work and school and life for a moment. What if that happens here?
What if I let her get to me like that again? It was a day, Freddy…one day, and she had me so twisted I didn’t know what—”
“And there it is.”
“There what is?”
“The reason you’re so freaked out about all of this. It has nothing to do with her manipulation. It’s because she gets you so out of sorts with her looks and charm you cease to function normally and you forget your purpose.”
“Freddy, she’s hypnotizing. I’ve never felt such a pull toward anyone in my entire life. How am I possibly going to make this work professionally when every personal fantasy I have is about her?”
“Do you think that leaving and giving up your dream will change that?” Freddy asked sincerely.
“Not at all,” Morgan relented. “Oh shit! I have to go. We are having dinner at five, and I don’t know what to wear.”
Freddy burst into laughter. “Oh my goodness, girl. You just became hopeless. I love you. Have a good time.”
*
Lee practiced what she would say and the responses she would need to counter any of Morgan’s arguments. She needed Morgan to stay.
“For the museum…stay for the museum.” Lee chanted affirmations.
Lee knew she was going to need to apologize for leaving that day in Paris. Clearly, Morgan’s reaction of anger was based on more than the surprise of realizing Lee was her new boss. She had thought about calling Monsieur Foillot a couple times when she had returned, to thank Morgan and say she was sorry for standing her up. She just never got the chance. Once she had accepted her responsibilities at the gallery, she simply had no time. Lee certainly didn’t need the uncontrollable distraction that was Morgan, especially during her first months as head of the gallery. By the time things began to settle, Lee assumed Morgan had long forgotten her and their day together in Paris. To call her months later seemed ruder than not calling at all. At least in her head anyway. Maybe she shouldn’t say anything. Maybe she should just let it go and keep this meeting strictly professional. Lee would state why she brought her here and what she needed from her and avoid anything personal. It would not be an easy task because every time she saw Morgan her pulse raced and her body warmed. “No. I can do this. I’m a professional, and this is business.” She knew full well that she was fooling no one, least of all herself, but she had to try. It was a matter of life and death, she told herself.
She looked up at the clock. Morgan would be here in thirty minutes, and she needed to get ready. It was an easy thing to do when your personal amenities at work rivaled those in your home. Her father practically slept here most of his life and her childhood, so a luxury bathroom and closet was a must for him. She never understood its convenience until she took over. Sometimes she could still hear him talk her through issues she got hung up on. Her father was a man of great wisdom and talent but also of intuition and compassion. She wondered what he would think of the current predicament she’d managed to get herself into. “Listen to your heart, my darling child. What does it tell you?” he’d ask. Yet this time Lee thought it was her heart that was getting too involved. No. Not her heart. It was something much bigger than her heart.
*
Morgan took a cab the two blocks to the gallery. It was starting to sprinkle, and she didn’t want to risk a downpour halfway there. When they pulled up to the Dencourt, she was glad she’d listened to her instincts because the sky had completely opened up. She paid the driver and sprinted to the door. As she flung the door open and stepped inside, the sole of her wet shoe slipped on the marble tile.
She was fl
ung into the air and landed hard on her butt in the middle of a crowded foyer. The skirt of her dress was short, and judging by her landing position, she was certain she didn’t go down without giving the visitors a show. Embarrassment took over every part of her body, and she prayed that she could retain what little was left of her dignity by managing to get back on her feet gracefully. She sat up quickly, smoothed her skirt back over her legs, and shifted them around beneath her. She didn’t want to look up because she didn’t need to. Morgan could feel a hundred eyes staring at her. As she started to push herself up, she saw a hand reaching down for her. Morgan was mortified, but it did nothing to ease the pain shooting up and down her leg. She wanted to crawl under the nearest bench and hide until everyone left, but instead she blindly grabbed the hand offered and allowed it to pull her to her feet.
Once she was upright and had made sure her dress was properly covering her, she looked up. “Thank yo—you’ve got to be shitting me.” She wished it was a fall that killed her or at least knocked her unconscious.
Lee held her hand and stared back at Morgan. A smile that could melt the winter was spread across her face.
“Are you okay? Come sit here for a minute.” Lee led her to one of the many benches lining the walls of the large foyer. The same ones she wished she was hiding under. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
Morgan watched Lee beeline to the docent desk. She was clearly not amused. That much was noticeable in the expressions of the ladies behind the desk. After one of them rushed off through a staff door, Lee turned around and made her way back toward Morgan and her wounded pride. Morgan prayed Lee had only seen the aftermath and not the entire train wreck. As Lee got closer, Morgan’s face got redder and she hung her head to avoid eye contact.
“I’ve told them repeatedly to make certain there is someone always standing near those doors when it’s raining to usher visitors across that marble. Hey, are you okay?” Lee reached down and gently raised Morgan’s chin.