At nearly two AM, I force myself to lie down in bed and turn out the light, but the darkness and silence overwhelm me. I grab my phone and I can’t help myself. I dare to play one of Kace’s albums. I can’t get him off my mind, but there’s a good reason for that I tell myself. His music speaks to my past, to my heart, to my family. And the way he plays Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony is just beautiful.
I fade into the night, into the sound of his notes, and wake to my cellphone ringing. I jolt with the sound and roll to grab it from the nightstand to find Ed calling. I groan with my tired body and sit up, glancing at the six AM hour. “Morning, Ed.”
“Can you reach out to the buyer and offer them four hundred and twenty-five thousand?”
“I can certainly try, but from what I understand, this guy would have paid five hundred thousand just to win the auction last night. It’s not about money to him. It’s about the game and the power.”
“Try. You have a way about you, Aria. I know you can do this.”
“Don’t do that to me,” I chide. “Don’t build me up to let you down.”
“You can’t let me down. I believe in you, no matter what. But try. That’s all I ask.”
“I will.” We disconnect and I launch myself into action, which means me making coffee, and taking a long hot shower. Riptide is only open a few hours on Saturdays and thankfully I have Nancy, my part-timer who runs our shop during our open hours, coming in today.
Since it’s the weekend, I dress in black slacks, a black blazer over a black silk shell, and my heels I wore last night. I stick a pair of flats in my purse for the subway. After coffee and eggs, I’m ready to go. Really ready to go. I need out of the shop, where I’m reminded of all the ways Gio isn’t here. A short subway ride later, I’m at the doors of Riptide and feeling no hesitation, but there is a tiny flutter with the thought of Kace. Could he be here today? Why would he be here today? Why am I even thinking about him being here today? This man is confusing me, stirring fluttery, infatuated feelings I have no business feeling.
The security guard opens the door for me and I shove aside thoughts of Kace and hurry to the front desk where Amber is present again. “Good morning,” she greets. “How was the auction last night?”
“Interesting in all kinds of ways,” I say.
“That it is,” Amber replies. “Always. Intense, too. Do you have an item to pay for?”
“Unfortunately, no. I was a big loser last night. Crystal asked me to stop by. Is she in?”
“She is. Remind me again. Your name—”
“Aria is fine,” I supply.
“Of course. A beautiful name.” She grabs her phone. “Aria is here, Crystal.” She listens a moment and then replies with, “Yes. I will.” She hangs up and smiles. “Follow me. She said to bring you to her office.”
“Fabulous,” I say. “Thank you.”
Amber joins me on this side of the desk and we exit the lobby and travel a long hallway, our path ending at an office door. Amber motions me forward and then heads on her way. I step inside the office and find Crystal behind a large glass desk, her long blonde hair silky around her shoulders, and thankfully her wardrobe confirms my professional instincts. She too is wearing pants. In fact, her outfit is almost identical to mine, except her blouse is pink, not black.
“Welcome, Aria,” she says, popping to her feet and motioning to a small round table. “Let’s sit. I have the paperwork I need from you to get you on the VIP list.” She grabs a file and we both walk to the small round table. My purse is my Louis Vuitton briefcase today and I set it in the chair next to me and between us before claiming a seat across from Crystal.
“I’m sorry you didn’t snag that wine last night,” she says.
“About that,” I reply. “Any chance you could get me in contact with Alexander? I’d gladly pay a commission. My client has now decided he’ll go four twenty-five.” I slide a card in front of her. “You can offer him my cellphone number, if you will?”
“Don’t you love it when they decide after the fact? And of course, I will.” She grabs her phone from her pocket and clearly she knows Alexander personally because his number is in her phone. She punches his number and soon she’s leaving a message with my number and my purpose in asking to speak to him.
“He’ll call,” she says, setting her phone aside. “He likes the game in all this.”
“Kace warned me, but I have to try.”
“Kace.” Her lips curve slightly. “He’s an interesting one. I’m surprised he told you anything. For a man in the spotlight, he’s reserved. He’s not big on conversation, or strangers. Except apparently you.”
“He didn’t seem reserved to me at all,” I observe, but immediately question my own statement. He didn’t exactly hang around last night for conversation.
“I guess you speak his language,” she says. “I do not. I might have to call you to translate with that man. He’s actually playing at the VIP event, by the way. And Chris Merit, a world-renowned artist, is painting to his music.”
“Chris,” I repeat. “Yes. I met him Tuesday, I think.”
“Right. Mark told me that, actually. He had lunch with Chris and Kace and you showed up.” She laughs. “Very bold of you. I love that you did that.”
“I don’t think your husband would agree.”
She waves that off. “Mark loves when people punch his buttons. Or try. Chris and Kace are fabulous at it, too. Their presence at the event makes it ‘the’ event of the year for us. Half the proceeds are going to a children’s charity Chris supports.”
“It sounds spectacular. I’d love to see Chris and Kace together.”
She slides the folder to me. “Just fill that out and I’ll rush it through for you. Then you will.”
“Thank you for doing this, Crystal.”
“My pleasure.” She smiles a friendly smile. “I hope we’ll see you here often.”
“As do I,” I reply, and I mean it. This feels right. This place. This new direction for our business. It’s just missing Gio. “One thing, Crystal. Do you mind me asking who authenticated the violin?”
“Of course, I don’t mind. Once you’re cleared for the VIP event, you’ll get a package with all the information for each auction item, including validation and authentication.” Her phone buzzes with a text and she reads it before glancing at me. “I’m going to handle a little problem while you fill out your paperwork.”
“Of course,” I say, and grab the folder as well as the pen she’s set next to it.
The paperwork is fairly basic, but I’m giving her permission to run my security check. Which is fine, I remind myself. My mother made sure my father’s name doesn’t pull up on any of my paperwork. I fill out the documents, I’m just finishing when my cellphone rings with an unknown number.