The Curiosities

by Susan Gloss

  “The DA is dropping the charges. Caroline’s parents submitted a letter to him, asking that the prosecution focus on finding ‘the real threat’—people dealing black market prescription drugs and heroin—instead of going after someone who had tried to help her. Apparently Caroline had told them about my project. Between that and the Good Samaritan law, which is supposed to encourage people to call for help, not discourage them, Josh says the DA would have been hard-pressed to go forward with the case.”

  Nell jumped up and down and hugged Annie. “That is fantastic news,” she said. “I knew you were in good hands with Josh, but I still wasn’t sure if it would all work out.”

  “He went above and beyond,” Annie said.

  Odin came downstairs. “What’s all the noise?”

  Paige was on his heels. “Did I miss something?

  “Annie’s case got dismissed,” Nell said. “Now our show tonight can feel like a real celebration.”

  “Speaking of which, do I look presentable?” Paige pulled at the edges of her black shirtdress in an exaggerated curtsy.

  “Yes,” Nell said. “But not so presentable that people won’t believe you’re one of the artists. The skull tights are a nice touch.”

  Paige walked over to where Nell had hung a grouping of three of her Maps and Monsters prints. “Funny how a frame can make something look completely different.”

  Nell felt a twinge of anxiety in the pit of her stomach. “Oh no,” she said. “Did I get it all wrong?”

  “No, they’re perfect,” Paige said. “When I’m toting stuff around in my portfolio, it seems so one-dimensional, you know? Just a print. This makes everything look more legitimate, somehow.”

  “Did you get the idea from all your gaming and your geek metal friends?” Odin asked.

  “God, no,” Paige said. “The idea was inspired by Trent, actually.”

  “Is he coming to the show tonight?” Annie asked.

  Paige shook her head. “I didn’t invite him. I haven’t talked to him in a few weeks, actually.” She looked at her feet, clearly uncomfortable at the personal turn the conversation had taken.

  Nell looked at her watch. “I guess I’d better get changed. People will start coming soon. At least I hope so.” She bit her lip, suddenly racked by doubt. “What if no one comes?”

  “I did invite some of my classmates,” Paige said. “They won’t buy any art, but they’ll help contribute to the legitimacy factor. And probably make sure we don’t have too much leftover wine.”

  But people did come, and not just Paige’s classmates. Josh was among the first to arrive, coming straight from court. He had never looked sexier to Nell, not just because he was still in his suit, but because of what he’d accomplished that day. She greeted him with a kiss that was longer than what she’d usually be comfortable giving in front of other people, let alone in a work setting. But she couldn’t hold in how proud and grateful she felt.

  “Hello,” Josh said. “Maybe I should wear a suit more often.” When Nell pulled away, he gave her an approving look. “And you should definitely wear that dress more often, too.”

  She was wearing the red dress she’d bought for the party at the dean’s residence back in January. This party was already feeling decidedly more celebratory than that one.

  A group of Josh’s law school colleagues showed up soon afterward. Some of them bought artwork—a few of Paige’s sea monster prints and a couple of smaller pieces that Odin had done before the residency. His large heron sculpture was purchased by a couple who lived down the street from the Colony. They had long admired Betsy’s sculpture garden and wanted to start their own.

  Don showed up, too, and wrote a donation check to the nonprofit for addiction recovery research to which the artists had agreed to donate the night’s proceeds.

  “Good news about Annie’s case,” he said to Nell. “I was following it on the court docket and saw that the charges got dropped. Where’s your husband? I want to thank him for helping out.”

  Nell pointed him in the direction of the dining room, where Josh had jumped in as bartender and was pouring people drinks. The house was filling up, with neighbors and other local artists, and even with people who’d just been driving by and saw the luminarias lining the front walk. They wandered up to the house to look at the memorial the residents had set up on a table on the porch. Odin had made a candelabra from bent metal shaped to look like tree branches. It held five multicolored candles that Annie had made by melting down bits of other half-used candles she’d found around the mansion. Paige had used a letterpress machine up at school to print out Caroline’s name on thick, handmade paper, which she then framed, along with a description of the charity that would be receiving the night’s proceeds. In the end, the Colony raised just over a thousand dollars in Caroline’s name. It wasn’t a huge sum of money—probably nowhere near the sums that Betsy was known for giving to charity—but they raised it together. And, after spending months wondering what Betsy wanted or what she would have thought, Nell felt certain tonight that Betsy would have been proud.

  Chapter Thirty

  Paige

  PIECE: Set of eight Baccarat cut-crystal flutes.

  Paige didn’t go to the big, university-wide graduation ceremony held in the football stadium. She didn’t see the point of sitting amid a crowd of people, the vast majority of whom she’d never met, only to walk across the stage for ten seconds and worry about tripping on her robe the whole time. Instead, she went with her parents to the breakfast and smaller commencement celebration held just for her program. Her parents beamed with pride when her name was called and she stood up with her classmates to be recognized. But her parents, like Paige, also weren’t comfortable in crowds. The number of people packed into the banquet hall, even just for her department’s commencement, was probably double the number of people who lived in the town she grew up in. She wasn’t surprised, then, when her parents departed Madison early that afternoon, after some obligatory pictures on campus and a quick tour of the Colony. They seemed relieved to be going back home.

  Paige, too, felt relieved to be at home, in her room at the Colony. After her parents left, she fell asleep on her bed, still wearing the dress she’d put on for the graduation festivities. She woke, disoriented, a couple of hours later to a knock at her door.

  “Come in,” she said, sitting up and straightening out the folds of her dress.

  The door opened a crack and Nell stuck her head into the room. “We have a surprise for you downstairs.”

  Paige followed her down to the dining room, where twinkle lights and tissue paper flowers hung from the ceiling. A bottle of Champagne in a silver ice bucket sat in the middle of the table. Annie walked in from the kitchen carrying a white layer cake with “Congratulations” written on the top in chocolate icing. Odin came in after her, carrying stemmed crystal glasses.

  Paige could feel her face turning red. “You guys didn’t have to do this.”

  “Yes, we did,” Annie said, placing the cake on the table. “After everything that’s happened here, we’re glad to have an excuse to celebrate something good.”

  Odin twisted off the Champagne cork with a pop. He filled the glasses and, when everyone had one in hand, raised his own glass in the air and said, “To Paige, who makes art look easy.”

  Paige almost snorted out her champagne. To make art, to create something entirely original, was hard. Like really fucking hard. But she didn’t know how to live without it, and she knew the others gathered around the table felt the same way. So instead of making a self-deprecating remark, she said, “Thank you. Is that cake fair game?”

  “Definitely,” Nell said, picking up a knife.

  When the doorbell rang half an hour later, Paige went to answer it, giddy on sugar and the half glass of Champagne she’d drunk. When she opened the door, she saw Trent standing, tall and smiling, on the front porch. In that moment, she realized just how much she’d missed him. Until then, she’d carried on by pushing
him to the back of her thoughts, trying to ignore the inconvenient feeling that she’d made a mistake in letting him go.

  They hadn’t been in touch at all since they broke up. Paige had contemplated reaching out to him on a few occasions, but always stopped herself. Part of it was pride—she’d been the one to pull away, and she didn’t want to admit that she was having second thoughts. The other part was fear. What if he had moved on? Paige certainly thought she would have by now.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hi.” Paige gave him a questioning look.

  “It’s good to see you,” he said. “I’m glad you texted me.”

  “I didn’t.” Now Paige was really confused.

  Trent pulled his phone out of his back pocket and held it up for her to see. “Then who sent me this?”

  Paige looked down. On the screen was a picture of one of her framed Maps and Monsters prints from Gallery Night, along with a message that said, My housemates are having a graduation party for me on Sunday around 4 if u want to stop by.

  “I’m not sure what happened,” she said. “But I didn’t send that.”

  “Well, this is awkward.” Trent put his phone back in his pocket. “If you want me to go . . .”

  “No, no, come in,” she said. “The party thing is true. Do you want some cake? Champagne?”

  She brought him to the dining room, where the others were still standing around the table. Paige introduced Trent.

  “I think I’ve seen some of you around,” he said. “But it’s nice to formally meet you.”

  Nell cut Trent a piece of cake, and he sat down at the table to eat. Paige stayed on her feet, turned her back to the table, and took her phone out of her pocket. She looked through her outgoing messages, but didn’t see anything that matched what had been on Trent’s screen.

  Annie came up next to her. “What, you don’t think an old lady knows how to work an iPhone?” she said quietly, nudging Paige with her elbow.

  Paige’s eyes widened. “It was you?”

  Annie grinned. “That dress you wore to Gallery Night didn’t have any pockets. I snatched your phone when you set it down to get a drink, then deleted the message after I sent it.”

  “Unbelievable,” Paige said, shaking her head, but she smiled back at Annie. “Why?”

  Annie looked at Trent, who had finished his piece of cake and was talking with Odin. “Because I’ve spent a lot of my life not letting anybody get too close, and I regret it,” she said. “I don’t know anything about this boy, but I know that you care about him enough to be moved to make beautiful artwork. So I meddled.”

  Trent got up from the table and caught Paige’s eye.

  “Do you want anything to drink?” she asked.

  “No, thanks. I was hoping we could go somewhere to talk. Outside, maybe? It’s really nice out.”

  Paige agreed. She thanked her housemates for the surprise party and went with Trent out to the pier, where they sat on the bench at the edge. Paige lit a cigarette. She exhaled, looking out at the lake through the cloud of smoke. The water was finally blue and open after so many months of ice. A line of sailboats bobbed around a bright orange buoy. The sun sank slowly in the sky amid a swath of sherbet-colored hues. Paige would miss living on the lake when the residency was over.

  “I figured out who sent the message,” Paige said. “It was Annie.”

  Trent cocked his head to the side a bit. “Are you pissed?”

  Paige shook her head. “I kind of wish I had sent it. I’m glad to see you.”

  “How have you been?” he asked. “It’s been a while.”

  Paige filled him in on the events of the last few weeks, including Caroline’s death and Annie’s court case.

  “You can’t be serious,” he said.

  Paige nodded. “It’s not exactly the sort of thing I could make up.”

  “Well, you are creative . . .” He nudged the side of Paige’s foot with his sneaker. “I’m sorry you and your friends had to go through all that.”

  “What have you been up to?” she asked.

  “Working and saving money. I start back up with classes next week.” Trent turned his gaze from the lake to Paige. “I was glad when I got your text—I mean Annie’s text,” he said. “What we had was good, don’t you think? I know you weren’t looking for a relationship. I wasn’t, either. But when I have something good, I kind of want more of it, you know?”

  Paige nodded. “Yeah, it was good,” she said. But then she had to look away. The bare tenderness in his eyes made her uncomfortable. Desire she could handle. Flirting, banter, sex—she was used to all of those. But tenderness? No.

  “So what happened? What’s underneath all this?” Trent made a sweeping gesture with his hand.

  “You know very well what’s underneath all this.” Paige took his hand and placed it on her leg, just beneath the hem of her dress. He gave her thigh a squeeze, but then removed his hand.

  “That’s not what I meant. I want to know what’s in here.” He tapped a gentle finger against her temple and brushed a piece of hair back from her face, securing it behind her ear. Then he moved his hand down and tapped her collarbone, just above her heart. “And here.”

  Paige covered her face with her hands. “No you don’t. Not really.”

  “I do.”

  She dropped her hands to her sides. Just as the ice had disappeared from the lake, Paige felt something melting, something softening and thawing in her chest. “I’ve never been good at liking myself,” she admitted.

  “But you act like you’re so confident.”

  “Cocky,” she said. “Cocky is not the same as confident. It’s often quite the opposite, actually. Anyway, I’ve made progress. Not that long ago, when I was a teenager, it was worse than just not liking myself. I straight up hated myself.”

  “I know.” Trent took her wrists, one by one, and kissed her on the pink, puckered skin across her scars.

  Paige felt a blush burn across her face. After he’d let go of her hands, she looked at the ground and said, “I didn’t tell you about all that to make you feel sorry for me. Just to explain why I’ve never been good at getting close.”

  She got up and walked down the pier, back to the shore. She scooped up a handful of flat stones, then returned and put them down on the bench. Trent selected a stone, got up, and skipped it across the water. It bounced three times on the surface before plunking under the waves.

  “So . . . summer school, huh?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” Trent said. “And then fall semester.”

  “No ski season this year?”

  He shook his head. “I’ve got to graduate.” He shrugged. “It’s okay, though. It feels good to actually have a plan. How about you?”

  Paige bent to scoop up another stone from the bench. “I’m kind of thinking about getting a master’s. My advisor thinks I should apply to the program here.” She threw the stone, which skidded across the water in a line of tiny ripples before submerging.

  “I think you should, too,” he said. “It means you’d stay in Madison after the residency is done. “And in the meantime, maybe we can start hanging out again.” He leaned in close.

  “I’d like that.” She closed her eyes and, when they kissed, the rush of warmth that hummed through her body felt both familiar and new at the same time.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Odin

  PIECE: Bruce L. Black, Flame. Steel sculpture.

  Odin planned his departure from the Colony so that he’d be the first to move out. He did not want to stay long enough to watch the others take off, one by one, leaving only Nell. While she was getting the house ready for the next group of artists set to arrive in August, he’d be moving into his new apartment in Minneapolis.

  When he’d packed the last of his equipment into the truck, he stood outside the mansion in the circular drive for a few moments before going inside to say goodbye to the others. He’d had a great love, once, in Sloane. He hoped there would be at least a
nother one in his life, at some point. But in the meantime, he had his art to keep him busy. And, thanks to the recent Gallery Night, he’d signed two contracts for custom works—his first commissions.

  One of the contracts was from the couple who had purchased his blue heron piece. They wanted another sculpture to jump-start their collection. He agreed without hesitation. The income would be good, but he also was excited by the prospect of creating something without being confined by the necessity for it to fit on someone’s bookshelf or end table. And he loved the idea that his pieces would be outdoors, in public view, where anyone could enjoy them and where he could see them when he came back to visit the Colony in the future. Because he knew he would be back here. Nell had already said that all of the artists had a standing invitation to join the new residents for a Sunday dinner if they were ever in town.

  The money from the commissions was enough for Odin to put down the first month’s rent on a second-story apartment in an old house just a couple of blocks from Lake of the Isles. It had a detached garage, and the owner agreed to let him pay an extra hundred bucks in rent every month to do his sculpting work out there. It would be fucking cold in the winter—he’d have to get a space heater—but he didn’t mind. He’d come to appreciate cold, how it brought him into his physical body and out of his head. Maybe someday he’d have “made it” enough to do his work in a heated studio. Until then, he welcomed the thought of the cold.

  Odin looked up at the window of the room where he’d dreamed and despaired for the last six months. Then he glanced at the garage, where he’d done more of the same, but also work. Quite a bit of it, especially in the last couple of months. He had some things to show now as soon he found the right gallery to show them.

  When he first arrived, he’d felt so lost. Sloane, in his mind, was synonymous with art. Synonymous with any small amount of success he’d managed to achieve. Without her, he worried he’d never create anything worthy of the faith she’d had in him, of the faith she’d somehow manage to convey to the rich, dying woman who visited the Foster Gallery on that frigid February night the year before.