[cont.]
Odessa sighed. She knew that artists were cursed with elevated expectations. No amount of promotion was ever enough. And with a feisty artist like Paula this was doubly true. If Odessa sold four, why didn’t she sell out the entire series? If Odessa sent a museum curator to her studio, why wasn’t it the top curator instead of the associate curator? Why wasn’t her work featured again at the art fair? Why did she get a twenty page catalog for her show and not a twenty four page one like this artist? Why didn’t she get invited to be in the biennial when two others in the gallery did? As irritating as her demands could be, Paula really worked at promoting herself, applying for shows all over the country, following up on every opportunity. She had ambition and Odessa respected that. Was the anger because Odessa had foiled her as a kingmaker? Because she had shown that Paula’s approval wasn’t synonymous with success? Embarrassment can make you crazy.
No sooner had Paula slammed the door behind herself than the phone rang. It was Jody calling yet again with more of her little helpful suggestions on how to market her daughter’s work. The fact that almost half of Lori’s show was sold the day before it officially opened didn’t register as significant to this woman. And, no, Odessa didn’t think that billboards or signage on buses in LA would actually bring in more collectors. Yes, they would possibly be cheaper than the full page color ad she had placed in ArtForum but they wouldn’t actually be more cost effective: the audience mattered. Selling art was different than promoting a landscaping business. She put the call on speakerphone while explaining that she wasn’t just trying to sell them, she was trying to place them in the best collections, to position Lori’s work for greater critical attention and inclusion in more museums. Jody told her that Teddy thought she was thinking small and started repeating all the same suggestions heard and rejected yesterday and the day before. By this point, Odessa had completely picked up after Paula’s tantrum and now needed to finish preparing for the collectors coming over. “Why don’t you email me your ideas?”
Jody started whining, “I can’t believe she hated us so much. We weren’t even invited to her wedding and Teddy could have suggested much better names for the girls. I don’t know why she hated us so much.”
It was a cry for sympathy, for reassuring words.
“Children need to live their own lives.” That was the best Odessa could do.
As Jody continued droning on about how much she and Teddy had given Lori, her complaints echoing throughout the gallery, Odessa turned off the speakerphone, drank a tall glass of water, reapplied lipstick, then picked the phone back up to tell Jody that she had to go. Jody would not take the hint and kept right on talking, even as Odessa ended the call. No wonder Brendan had started blocking his mother-in-law. She was under no obligation to this woman, but she understood grief, the despair of grief. Besides, even though she was rude to her today, she knew she’d get another phone call tomorrow.
After she spent the next hour rushing to pull out work and rearrange all the pieces hanging in the back room, it turned out that Lawrence’s get-together was a ruse. No collectors. He came alone, carrying a bouquet of camellias and a bottle of champagne. She accepted the flowers with a smile. They were her favorites, pink outer petals progressing to pale pink to almost white around a center thick with bright yellow anthers. Hard to find even in season. As she arranged them, he announced that he intended to whisk her off to dinner on a yacht he had chartered for the occasion, but she continued to stand there. She must have looked irritated because he suddenly looked confused, the wrinkle lines marring his perfectly refurbished face.
“Lawrence, you know today is Maggie’s birthday and I’m taking her out.”
“I forgot. Can you call her and make other arrangements?”
“It’s my daughter’s birthday today. And I’ve already had to change our plans once to accommodate you.”
“She’s not really your daughter…”
“Really now? I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you say that.”
“Forgive me. Of course you have plans. This was supposed to be an important evening. Well, it’ll have to wait.” He was irritated.
Oh my, she thought, she hadn’t spoken to him directly since she saw that photo and look at that lower lip sticking out. One thing she knew, she didn’t want to spend any more time than she had to around him. At least not until she stopped wanting to spit on him.
“This has been a hard week, Lawrence.”
“Darling, it’s just that I’ve missed you. Well, rain checks can be so much fun,” he told her, reaching to wrap her in his arms.
“We’ll talk later,” she promised as she pivoted and neatly pushed him out the door.
Good lord what a day.
