Sweet Hope (Sweet Home #4)(3)
Vin’s head tilted to the side. “Why?” Vin’s eyes had lit up with interest.
“Why…” I whispered, contemplating how I could express my love for his work in words. I took in a long breath, thinking through my answer, and opted to speak from the heart. I closed my eyes picturing his sculptures and let my words flow.
“His works… They are both the saddest and most beautiful pieces of art I have ever seen. Every curve of the marble comes from deep within his heart. The themes of his works are both provocative and gutting at the same time. I could get lost in every single one of them, all day, everyday for the rest of my life and never tire of it. They are raw and poetic… so tragic, yet so beautiful. The merest of glances at any one of the pieces evokes a kaleidoscope of emotions from the very depths of the soul. I don’t know what else to say except that his work communicates with me like no other,” I patted my hand over my heart, “it speaks directly to every fiber of my being. I feel his work. I feel it, as though it lives and breathes, just like you and I.”
Opening my eyes, I blushed in embarrassment as I realized just how lost to my thoughts I had become. Vin leaned forward again and tapped my hand with his.
“Well, Ms. Lucia, that was quite the answer,” Vin said, with a hint of humor in his tone.
Huffing a nervous laugh, I brushed a loose piece of hair from my face. “He’s quite the sculptor.”
“Yes, he is,” Vin said, then sighed a heavy sigh. “He’s a genius, a brilliant, brilliant man, though he will never ever think it of himself.”
Seeming to forget he was in my company, Vin pulled himself round from his sudden sadness. After several seconds of silence, Vin said, “I’m an old fashioned man, Ms. Lucia. I don’t care for formal job interviews and I’m not one for rote scripted replies. I want a curator who understands Elpidio’s work, someone who is as passionate about it as I am.”
“I’ve studied each of those pieces more than anyone, anyone, Vin. I’m convinced I’m the only curator who can design that gallery, the only person who can create a story worthy of his work. I know I can design the perfect space to showcase his talent. I can do this, Vin, believe me I can. I’ve never failed to deliver before, and I most certainly wouldn’t fail with this show.”
Vin laughed and once more patted my hand. “Ms. Lucia, after reading your journals and speaking to you today, I am just as convinced of this as you are. But even if I wasn’t; listening to you describe how Elpidio’s work affects you just now, well, it would have won you the position regardless.”
For a moment I let what he’d just said hang in the air. Unable to resist the need for clarification, I asked, “Do I… have I got the position?”
Vin nodded his head once and stood up. “You have indeed. Ms. Lucia. I’m not one to procrastinate. I’ve already explored your academic credentials and caught up with previous employers. You come highly recommended, you have dedicated your life to curating from what I can gather.”
Warmth spread in my chest, and I let myself feel a fleeting moment of pride. I had dedicated every moment since college to this career. Even in college, I always knew what my path would be.
Rising to my feet, I offered my hand to Vin, who graciously accepted it. “Thank you, Vin,” I said humbly. He gave my hand a firm shake as if to seal the contract.
“When do you need me here in New York? I can be back from California in the next few days if necessary. Is the exhibit here at the Met? The Guggenheim?”
“None of the above,” Vin said with a casual wave of his hand as he made his way to the door. I frowned in confusion. “It’s going to be small, academic and local to me.”
“Okay,” I said hesitantly.
Vin glanced back from the door. “It’ll be in Seattle, Ms. Lucia, at the University of Washington’s art museum. I’m a patron there and I want to garner some exposure for it. Plus, Elpidio would not countenance a big name gallery. He wants intimate.”
Intimate… The very sound of Elpidio next to the word intimate evoked a warm glow all over my body. I was obsessed with a man I’d never met, no more than a concept. And here I was getting to work physically with his masterpieces—the marble expressions of his soul, the imprints of his heart… in Seattle.
“Seattle’s perfect,” I said, excitement lacing every letter of my words, “I get the sense from his work that Elpidio is not in it for the fame or acclaim of other artists. It’s not the prestige of the place. It’s the exquisiteness of the art that’s the focus.” I smiled and dipped my head just picturing those sculptures I’d admired in pictures, only having had the pleasure of seeing one piece in the flesh. “It’s going to be amazing; life-changing amazing, for so many people.”
“Spoken like a true curator,” Vin said fondly. I could hear the smile in his voice.
“No,” I said and blushed. “That was spoken by a true fan.”
Vin eyed me with curiosity. “You’ve perfectly described Elpidio, Ms. Lucia. A small museum is ideal for his first show, and you are ideal as its curator. I have a very good feeling about this partnership, Ms. Lucia. A very good feeling indeed.”
Smiling, I replied, “As do I, Vin.”
“My assistant will be in touch soon with all of the finer details. In the meantime, if you can get to Seattle as soon as possible, we can take it from there.”