Come Fly With Me (76 page)

He
stood
up
and
drew
her
into
a
hug,
"I've
got
to
go
put
this
lasagna
in
the
oven.
Come
over
in
an
hour
and
bring
a
good
bottle
of
wine."
He
smiled
as
he
wiped
the
tear
that
leaked
out
of
her
left
eye.

She
took
a
shaky
breath,
"Kenyon,
I
don't
know
what
I
would
do
without
you."
She
looked
at
him
for
a
long
minute,
"Well,
I
guess
I
would
be
ten
pounds
lighter."

He
laughed
and
let
himself
out.

Allison
was
standing
in
the
small
storeroom
at
the
back
of
her
gallery.
"I
can't
believe
the
opening's
tomorrow
night,
Emily;
I've
been
completely
AWOL
on
you.
After
this
show,
I
vow
to
simplify
my
life."
When
she
didn't
get
a
response
she
looked
over
her
shoulder
at
Emily
who
was
looking
through
a
stack
of
packing
slips.
"Em,
did
you
hear
me?
I
need
a
witness
to
my
vow."

"Heard
you...
simplify
your
life,"
she
mumbled
in
response.

"Great.
I've
been
ranting
and
raving
to
myself."

Emily
paused
in
her
task,
removed
her
glasses
and
looked
at
Allison.
"Listen,
you'll
have
to
forgive
me.
I've
been
setting
up
this
show
almost
single-handedly
while
still
running
the
gallery.
I'm
up
to
my
eyeballs
in
work
and
have
been
for
months.
I'm
the
last
person
you
want
to
tick
off
right
now.
And
you're
right;
you
really
do
need
to
simplify
your
life—and
take
control
of
it."

"Ouch,
that
hurts.
I'm
not
sure
I
deserved
that."

Emily
looked
at
her
steadily.
"I'm
pretty
sure
you
did.
I've
never
heard
you
act
victimized
before.
I
know
I
sound
harsh,
but
let's
take
a
reality
check,
here,
it's
been
nearly
seven
months
since
your
father
died
and
it's
been
that
long
that
you've
been
vowing
to
simplify
your
life.
Does
that
sound
about
right?"

Allison
swallowed.
"Does
everyone
else
think
I've
allowed
my
life
to
spiral
out
of
control?"

"I've
been
too
busy
to
take
a
poll,
but
I
can
tell
you
this
much—either
run
RossAir
Industries,
or
run
your
gallery.
It's
your
decision,
but
for
goodness
sakes,
just
make
it.
I'm
leaving
now,
and
I'll
come
in
early
tomorrow
to
put
the
finishing
touches
on
the
space."
She
started
to
reach
for
her
coat,
then
dropped
it
to
walk
toward
Allison
and
pull
her
into
a
quick
hug.
"Things
will
work
out,"
she
added.
"You
simply
need
to
make
a
decision."

Allison
nodded
and
watched
Emily
gather
her
coat
and
bag.
She
continued
unpacking
the
paintings
that
had
arrived
a
few
days
ago
from
Montreal.
Vince
was
one
of
her
favorite
new
artists,
and
she
was
glad
he
was
poised
for
what
she
hoped
was
a
meteoric
rise.
Allison
had
arranged
for
New York
magazine
to
come
down
and
do
a
piece
on
the
opening.
She
was
also
highlighting
her
mother's
glass
vases
and
bowls
that
had
grown
more
intricate
and
interesting
over
the
last
few
months,
as
if
all
her
creative
juices
had
been
set
free.

Allison
opened
the
last
of
the
cartons
and
began
to
unwrap
the
paintings.
She
gasped,
her
disbelief
growing
as
each
painting
was
revealed.
This
really
couldn't
be
happening.
Vince,
why
did
you
do
this?
Half
of
the
paintings
he'd
sent
over
were
portraits
of
a
woman
in
various
poses
and
settings.
The
resemblance
to
herself
was
uncanny
and
frankly,
startling.
This
looks
like
the
most
narcissistic
show
I
could
ever
have
put
on,
she
thought
frantically.
She
looked
at
the
time
in
despair;
it
was
well
past
midnight.
Too
late
to
call,
too
late
to
do
anything,
She
clicked
open
the
latest
jpg
file
he'd
sent
her
for
approval,
and
saw
shots
of
all
the
pictures
that
were
now
lying
around
the
room.
She'd
been
too
busy
to
check
to
see
what
he'd
been
working
on,
and
now
she
was
royally
screwed.

****

"Mom,
you're
here
early.
The
show
isn't
supposed
to
start
for
another
couple
of
hours."

"I
thought
I'd
come
by
early
and
offer
my
help."
Her
mother
leaned
in
for
a
kiss
and
then
straightened
to
survey
the
room.
Her
eyes
widened
as
she
walked
from
one
painting
to
another.
"These
are
astounding.
I
didn't
know
you
were
going
to
be
featured
in
the
show.
What
an
interesting
idea!"