sent. I hope you take time to prepare.”
“Preparing” involved absorbing and memorizing pages of notes on each individual. Likes, dislikes, topics to be avoided at all costs.
Even at Christmas it was all about networking.
A wild idea flitted into her mind. Christmas in a cottage on Puffin Island. Log fire, good wine and the company of her friends. She and Richard together without the pressures of the outside world.
It was a dreamy idea.
It was also heresy and it was never going to happen.
“I’m sorry you couldn’t be here, Mom.”
“You couldn’t have picked a worse time. You’re putting a great deal of pressure on Richard. As your father said when he spoke to him earlier, expecting him to fly to London right now is unreasonable.”
“Richard spoke to Dad?”
“He called this morning.” Her mother paused. “Choosing that man is the one thing in your life you’ve done right. Don’t make a mistake tonight, Skylar.”
Make a mistake about what?
“Wait a minute—what are you talking about?”
“I’ve said enough. The rest is up to you. Make good choices.” Her mother ended the call and Skylar sat for a moment, staring out of the window.
Make good choices.
Her family had never understood that, for her, art and the process of creating something tangible and beautiful, whether a pot or a necklace, wasn’t a choice. It was a need, maybe even an obsession. It came from deep inside. She had images clamoring in her head, ideas crowding her brain. Inspiration was everywhere, there were days where she was dizzy and dazzled by possibilities.
Choice wasn’t part of it.
She could no more have given up what she did than she could have given up breathing, but her family had never understood that. Their approach to life was analytical. Their appreciation of art was limited to its cultural significance or financial value.
Growing up, there had been days when she’d wondered if her parents had brought the wrong baby home from the hospital. They were good people, but she felt as if she was in the wrong house.
The phone rang again. This time it was Brittany and Emily, her friends who were both back on Puffin Island, in Maine.
“Tell us what you’re wearing.” Brittany’s voice came down the phone and Skylar grinned.
No doubt about it, without her friends she’d go insane.
Friends were like solar power, bringing warmth and light to dark corners.
“The silver dress with the white coat. Totally impractical.”
“No burgers, no ketchup and stay away from red wine. I bet you look like a snow queen. We rang to wish you luck because after tonight you’ll be too famous to talk to us. Are you excited?”
Skylar tried to forget the conversation with her mother. “I think so.”
“You think?” This time it was Emily. “Sky, this is huge. You should be so proud. We are.”
“Drink champagne, take photos and we’ll celebrate when you’re home.” Brittany’s voice echoed down the phone. “Wish we could be there with you. You shouldn’t be alone.”
Skylar hesitated, not sure whether to tell them or not. “I won’t be alone. Richard is coming.”
There was a brief silence and then Emily spoke. “That’s great.” Her voice was just a little too bright. “We thought he wasn’t going to make it.”
“Last-minute decision.”