Through the Glass (24 page)

Firing up the laptop was quite exciting. Of course he had used computers before, but had always favoured the old fashioned way. There was something soothing about the click, click of a typewriter and burrr-ing of the winder that made him smile. But here he was tapping away at the keyboard of his flashy new laptop, feeling quite proud of himself for succeeding.

~~~~~

The manuscript pages sent to him by Edgar were wonderful. Jim had always loved the gentle flow of Edgar’s prose and having this opportunity to write and be published whilst being able to remain in the background was just mind-blowing. He had gone through Edgar’s myriad notes with a fine-tooth comb and felt well equipped to do the work justice. It would keep him occupied whilst Julian put everything in place over in Glasgow. He made a start as soon as things were set up and gave himself a pat on the back for getting it all to work first time.
In your face, Guy.
He mentally stuck two fingers up at the barely-out-of-nappies-patronising-to-the-core sales assistant.

Julian rang later on that day. “Jim, mate! How’s it going? You started writing that book yet?”

“Hi, Jules, yeah. I made a start today when I’d finished setting up my new laptop.” Jim couldn’t help but smile to himself with pride again.

“Ooh, get you joining the techno-age. You’ll be Tweeting next.” Julian chuckled.
Oh no I bloody won’t
. “Great, great stuff. Anyway, I’m glad you took him up on it. It’ll do you good to be writing again. Look, just a quick update. The guy I mentioned at the gallery, Jean-Paul Fabron? Remember? He absolutely
loves
the paintings and he has agreed to a three month exhibition!” The excitement in Julian’s voice took it up an octave.

His enthusiasm was contagious, and Jim felt giddiness bubbling up from his boots. “What? Really?” He sat up straight, silently fist bumping the air and mouthing the words,
Get in!
“That’s fantastic news! Thank you so much, Jules. Thank you.”

“Hey, it’s no problem, mate. She’s so talented it’s worth it to see her get the notoriety she deserves. Now, I need to talk to you about getting her to come over.” Julian’s voice became serious. “I have to be honest, I think
I
need to be the one to go over to New York, Jim.”

Disappointment washed over Jim, his mood plummeted. “You? How come? I…I wanted to go see her.”

“I know, I know. But I think we need to keep it anonymous right up to the point where she walks in and sees it. I can go over there and pretend to have an amazing find for her. She’d go for that.”

“Aye, I know but—”

“What would
you
say if you went? That you loved her and had taken her most private works and slapped them all over Glasgow to show her just how much? Think about it. What if she’s angry? She could be. I think that me getting her here is the best idea. Once she sees the exhibition she
will
be bowled over mate. She couldn’t possibly be angry when she
sees
them up there.”

Jim acquiesced. After all it did make more sense. But he couldn’t help the heaviness he felt over it. “Aye, okay. So what’s the plan?”

“Right, so here’s what I’m thinking. I go over and tell her I’ve made this amazing discovery, but that I’m keeping it anonymous so that no one else can see the work before Nilsson-Perkins. She’ll go for that. I’ll tell her to book a flight and come over so that she thinks she’s coming on business. You’ll be hiding in the wings, so to speak, when she arrives for her private showing. Et voila! She adores you once she finds out how amazing the paintings look and that
you
have been instrumental in arranging it all!”

Jim thought for a few moments, his heart already pounding at the plan. “Okay, so when are you going out?”

“I think next month. The exhibition will start in April, and so she’ll have a month to make arrangements and get herself over here. Sorted.”

“And what if she refuses?”

“Not a chance, Jim. I know Felicity of old, mate. She’s like a dog with a bone when she sniffs new talent. I only have to think back to how she was with me. Talk about bloody tenacious. She wouldn’t leave me alone until I’d agreed to work with her. She’s bloody good at her job, Jim, even if she should be painting instead. And I think that I can lay it on thick enough to make her completely intrigued.”

“Okay. Great. Keep me posted, eh?” Jim didn’t like how much he had been manipulated in one day but had to agree that in Julian’s case, he was right.

The call ended and Jim went back to Edgar’s book. Thanks to his new link to the World Wide Web, he had been able to do his own research for the book and it was coming along well even though he hadn’t really been working on it long. He made a call to Edgar’s editor to let him know he had taken up the challenge. Geoffrey Haddington had been a long-time friend of Edgar’s and was delighted to receive Jim’s call.

“I’m so glad you decided to do it, Jim. Edgar thought the world of you and he was so hopeful that you would take it on, but I was under strict instructions not to bother you if you chose not to. Bless you for doing this.”

“Oh no, don’t thank me. It really is an honour. And I thought the world of him, too. I miss hearing from him. But I feel closer to him whilst I’m working on his book, if that makes sense.” Jim felt his cheeks heat at his sentimental admission.

“Perfect sense, Jim. And thanks to you Edgar will live on through this final work. I can tell you with all honesty that he would be so very proud of you. He often spoke of you and how much he missed you being around. I’m sure you know this but…he thought of you as a dear son. And he knew that you would do a good job. Again, thank you.”

The older man’s words brought a lump to Jim’s throat but he felt good when the call was over. If he had been in any doubt over completing the book, those doubts had melted away completely now.

Chapter 20

February 2012 – Three Years After the Break-up

At the end of their evening, Felicity and Lia made their way out of the bar and hailed a yellow cab. Lia was dropped off at her apartment block that looked nothing like the one inhabited by Monica and Rachel on
Friends
. Felicity couldn’t help smirking at her own naiveté. She really was going to have to readjust to the
real
New York and stop living in the imaginary version she had learned from TV. She had been to The Big Apple on business on several occasions but living here and seeing where real people lived…well, it was a different thing entirely.

The gallery, and the bar, were only a short cab ride back to the rather plush, well known hotel where Franco had insisted Felicity stay for a while until she found somewhere more permanent. It was very elegant and elaborate but it was the kind of place you needed to experience
with
someone. Not alone. And she was oh so alone, feeling that ten times more when she arrived back there on an evening and had time to herself. Time to think and reminisce.

~~~~~

Whilst on the way back to her hotel suite, Felicity rode the elevator with what appeared to be a newly married couple. They kissed and fondled each other with little regard for their fellow passenger. Felicity rolled her eyes as the young man held the woman in a possessive embrace and nipped at her neck with his teeth, completely oblivious to Felicity’s presence. Thankfully, she left the elevator before they went any further. She felt like she had been temporarily thrust onto the set of some erotic movie and was annoyed at the fact that they blatantly ignored her coughs whilst trying to draw their attention to the fact that they had company.

Finally, she reached the sanctuary of her luxurious and over-the-top suite. Falling back onto the plush sofa, she switched on the television, and of course, there it was on the screen, the well-known movie where the girl looks across at the empire state building just as it lights up with a heart and she realises that her Mr. Right is probably waiting for her at the top. Jeez, the whole city was mocking her very presence.

Grabbing her bag, she rummaged around in it until she found the card that Vitale had given her. She read it with interest.
Vitale DeLuca, Managing Director, DeLuca Pharmaceuticals.
Wow. He was a big wig alright. M.D. of a drug company. Obviously a drug company that was doing quite well judging by his expensive suit.

She placed the card back in the bottom of her bag as Jim suddenly sprang to mind. Okay, so he wasn’t Italian, dark or mysterious. But he was warm, sexy, and hilariously funny. Passionate…yes, he was that, too. She groaned as she realised once again that she had blown it with him.

She resolved to focus on work. Romance was something she could, would, and
should
live without. Jim was someone she would have to learn to let go of.

Work.

That was the answer.

~~~~~

Monday morning was bitterly cold. She was beginning to become accustomed to this February, New York weather. The skyscrapers went a little way to shielding her from the icy chill, but she still wished she had a little more appropriate clothing. She would have to go shopping.

Shopping in New York.

Alone
.

Blurgh.
She could ask Lia to accompany her. That would probably be best, as Lia would know the best places to shop. Although after Friday, she was unsure as to how much, other than art, they had in common.

She sat in her office thumbing through some more of the paperwork that Chester had made a pig’s ear of. Lia had called and asked if she wanted to join her for lunch but she had declined. Sarah, the receptionist who was heavily pregnant, had gone to her prenatal visit, and Kyle, the other gallery assistant, had met his wife and daughter for lunch, and so the gallery had been closed for an hour. Not something Felicity would usually do, but on this one occasion, when everything was just so disorganised, it didn’t feel that it mattered too much.

Her head was throbbing, and typically, she didn’t have any headache pills with her. She decided to go and raid the cupboards in the break room and see if someone, anyone was either around to give her some or had left any in a drawer or cupboard. She hunted through half a dozen drawers but to no avail.

A door through the break room had intrigued her for days now. She hadn’t noticed it before last week, but when she asked Lia what was through there, she was told it was just a stock room where old damaged, paintings were kept ready for insurance claims.
How many damaged items could there be to warrant a whole room?

This was not something that had ever been an issue before. Not something she had heard of. Not something that was needed in the London gallery. It was becoming so
very
clear why Chester had been let go, and she knew that as the new manager, it would be her job to deal with damages and insurance.
Oh joy
.

She decided as no one was here to give her lame excuses it was time she took a look in that storeroom. Wondering what the hell
else
Chester had done. It
had
to be him. Lia had seemed sympathetic to him. She showed some kind of misplaced loyalty. But Lia was just a nice girl who would do anything for anyone. She must have respected her former boss a great deal. At least
she
had some admirable qualities, which is more than could be said for the man himself.

She tried the handle but the door was locked. Incensed that as the manager of this gallery there were rooms she couldn’t even access, she rifled through drawers looking for a key. None materialised. With her anger increasing she decided that
someone
must have a key. Lia wasn’t due back for an hour, and so Felicity nervously went to her desk first, feeling guilty but also entitled to look in that room. No key there. Next she searched Sarah’s desk and then Kyle’s.
Nothing
. Back to the kitchen, she rifled through the drawer nearest to the door once more.
Nothing
. One last-ditch attempt found her on a chair sliding her hand along the top of the door frame.
And bingo!
Sure enough there was a key secreted on the top of the frame amongst the dust bunnies. Why were the contents of this room so protected when they were damaged stock? She took the key down and decided to try the door.

The key fit, and with trepidation at just how much money Chester had seemingly lost for the company, she dreaded what was behind the mysterious door. She flicked on the light switch and walked in. She gasped, covering her mouth with her hands, as she saw several stacks of paintings.
There must be thousands of dollars of damaged canvas here!
Her heart raced. What the hell had caused this? How could Chester have been so lacking in care? How the
hell
would she explain this to Franco? He would go all out to ruin Chester who was already ill by all accounts.

She flicked through the canvases to see if any could be salvaged. But confusion washed over her. She shook her head and went back to the start.
What the—?
She pulled out canvas after canvas, which showed no damage. Not in any way.
So why?
She froze when she pulled out two canvases she recognised as pieces by well-respected artist Edward Vincent, who was known for producing valuable
one off
paintings. So why were there two canvases here which were identical? And more to the point why were there two of
this
painting when
she
had sold the original to a wealthy businessman in London? Looking closer she inspected the signature and numbers denoting that this was, indeed, a one off. Oh no! They were copies! Forgeries! Gathering speed she flicked through the canvases again.

Copy after copy marked up to be one off original pieces. Copies of paintings that were worth tens of thousands of dollars, and considering how many of them were here in this room, it would amount to millions of dollars.
Forgery
.
Oh. My. God.
Her heart rate increased further and she began sweating. Someone was using
this
gallery to sell forged artwork
. Shit! This can’t be happening!
She quickly closed and locked the door taking care to leave everything as it was. She needed to think. Who knew about this? Who was in on it? Did Franco know? Surely not. Franco was a genuine man with a passion for originals,
especially
one off pieces. There had to be an explanation that didn’t include Franco.