“I was at your show!” Mrs. Von Bizmark said, trying to remember the works.
Anna straightened up in her chair. Be cool, she told herself. “Yes, you were.”
“It’s not critical that we raise that much money through the auction,” Richard said, but of course those were the funds designated for the school.
“Why don’t you show everyone your website,” Bloom urged foxily.
“Please!” Mrs. Von Bizmark said.
All eyes watched as Anna silently prayed to God: not just that everyone would like her stuff but that she could get the digital screen to work. Be cool, she told herself. Deep breaths. Almost immediately, the middle of her back erupted into sweat. She swiped a tendril of hair out of her face as she lowered the display screen by remote control. Anna poked away at her phone, searching for the right app, the Bluetooth icon, the web browser in some sort of altered state of intuitive clicking. It felt like twenty minutes passed in those thirty seconds.
And then there it was, the website Adrian had made her, her pieces filling up the screen.
“And she just had a show downtown. Greene Street,” Julie added, smiling ear to ear. Richard looked completely unconvinced, while Mrs. Von Bizmark’s expression stayed carefully neutral. Opal may have fallen into a coma with her eyes open. Bloom wasn’t even looking at the screen; she was marking the reactions along with Anna.
Anna navigated to one of her favorites: an enormous bright canvas of spring-hued oils forming a geometric pattern around thick, opaque cellophane shapes. Various forms danced across and off the piece, large and small circles spilling over the edge of the frame; it was vibrant, fun, cheerful, strong. A few strands of Adrian’s beard nestled under an overlay of blue orbs, the piece’s secret. It was inspired by their first trip abroad together to Morocco. Mrs. Von Bizmark’s head tilted, her lips pursing as if to say, OK . . . I can work with this. Richard did not appear totally repulsed.
“Plenty to choose from,” Richard said. “What do you think, Kissy?” Anna held her breath. The nonsounds of the room—the hum of the electricity, the breeze at the distant window open in the office, the barely audible shush-shush of one of the dishwashers in the kitchen—all ascended in volume until they were screaming in Anna’s ears.
“I like it,” Mrs. Von Bizmark said. “Bold. Moving. Great for the stage.” Julie looked like she could explode with happiness. Anna knew she should feel it, too, but instead there was already anxiety. She knew they needed three masterpieces, but besides this and one she had hung at the entry of her exhibition, the rest of Anna’s stuff was smaller. She would have to create another huge piece in no time, and, crucially, all three would have to work together.
“Oh, goody,” Max said. “The story writes itself. The opera stage will feature an up-and-coming artist who was the initial champion of the public school we’re saving.” Bloom smiled at Anna, nostrils flared, and Anna couldn’t help but smile back. She tipped her head in silent gratitude. “That’s the message when we leave here. I imagine you’ve all received a few calls?”
“A few hundred,” Anna said, as the phone started ringing again.
“If anyone tries to back out of the lunch because of some, I don’t know, holier-than-thou attitude, just remind them that this is about schools. Kids. Tiny creative geniuses. And now a hot young artist is stepping up to provide art for free.”
“I don’t know about ‘hot,’” Anna said. “Or ‘young.’” In her head, she knew this was a good development. On her shoulders, though, she felt the weight of an entire school. Like, the whole building. What if no one bid on any of her pieces? She put enough pressure on herself without the fates of hundreds of “tiny creative geniuses” depending on her.
“There’s also an opera, you know. You can talk about the opera,” Richard whined. Opal sighed dramatically and stood to go. Everyone filed out in silence, leaving Julie and Anna alone.
“Are you excited?!” Julie squealed.
“Yes, I just . . . I’m one piece short,” Anna said. “And I still have to finish all that paperwork for the DOE so this will even work.”
“Why do you always focus on the negative?”
“You’re right. I should get to the studio tonight. I was supposed to have dinner with Adrian. We haven’t had a meal together all week.”
“Suck it up and do both. You’re not that old. I’ll make some espresso.” While Julie was in the kitchen, the phone rang.
“Kissy Von Bizmark’s—”
“You won’t believe this.”
“Phil, today, really, you can’t shock me.”
“I got the horses.”
“What?”
“The horses Bloom wanted for the front lawn. For the lunch! I got Akha . . .” He read from a scrap of paper. “Akhal-Tekes. She thinks it might be, like, I don’t know, ambience or something. And the heating is installed and almost perfect. If anything, it’s too hot in there now!” That Anna was completely out of the loop on both these topics would have ordinarily alarmed her. But between the Mercurion news and the piles of helicopter contracts, flight patterns, and passenger manifests she’d had to navigate, there just wasn’t time to stay on top of every last detail.
“That’s great, Phil.”
“Well, don’t get all excited.”
“You are the only person who hasn’t heard the news.”
“News? This is the beach, Anna. The beach, OK! I’m not like you kids, on my phone all the time. And you know I’ve been up to my ears with this installation . . .” Anna let Phil drone on, her mind wandering to the auction and what it might mean for her future. “A thousand degrees.”
“Felix Mercurion was arrested for tax evasion today.”
“Who’s Felix Mercurion?”
“Aw geez, Phil. Great job on the Aka-Tatas. I gotta run.”
They spent the rest of the day containing the mess, returning phone calls, talking people into attending the luncheon. Pippy Petzer in particular had to be reassured that STT was still coming, in her helicopter. The only person Anna could not convince was Martha Miller, who herself had been famously jailed for tax evasion. “I simply can’t be affiliated in any way with that,” Martha Miller had said. “I’m sure Kissy will understand.” The luncheon number hovered over a hundred anyway.
The art store was right by their apartment, so Anna figured she could pick up some supplies she knew she needed at the studio, go home, change, and have a quick celebratory dinner with Adrian. They really needed one. Lately, everything seemed like such a grind. They just hadn’t been in sync. But now that she had the auction to look forward to, she felt much more excited to see her man than she had in weeks. Maybe longer.
Adrian sat at the kitchen counter, working on his laptop. He barely looked up when Anna walked in. “Hey,” he said. “Juuuuust finishing up one thing. And there.” He closed his computer and finally rested his eyes on her. “Hi.” He smiled and turned to her on the stool. He was kind of adorable, Anna reminded herself. “What’s the latest?” he asked.
“My work is going up on the opera stage! For the gala!” Anna blurted.