Mary took a third deep breath, then tried not to panic further as the color started to drain out of the world. As much as she tried to tell herself that it was stupid to be nervous, she found herself fighting the urge to bolt back to the parking lot regardless. If it hadn’t been for Emily, who’d been talking excitedly about the show all day, she undoubtedly would have skipped out all together.

Now, as she stood near the entrance of the Gallery Indigo with her best friend at her side, she knew she had to go through with the event.

Mary: "We're a bit early, so I think I have plenty of time to throw up."
Emily: "You'll be fine, trust me; I know you. After we get in there you'll realize that and take everyone by storm."
Mary: “This is all so silly. I mean, I don’t have to be here for my art to sell. I can’t believe I agreed to this.”
Emily: “I’m glad you did; it’ll give us something to talk about when we’re old and grey.”
Mary: “I thought college gave us plenty to talk about.”

Emily gave Mary a look she knew all too well, one that told her she would be better off saving her energy because she was going through that door whether she wanted to or not. With a last deep breath, she walked forward through the doors and into the almost too-bright lights of the gallery.

Emily: "Mary... I don't know what to say."
Mary: "Yep, I'm the queen of bullshit. Sometimes I wonder how I can manage to live with myself, and then I remember the paychecks."
Emily: "You're something else, you know that?”
Mary: “I’m just me, Em.”

Mary smiled as Emily took a quick look around the large and open room. The change in her friend was nothing short of a miracle: her smile came easier, and her eyes were sparkling with a life that had been absent the last time she’d seen her. She felt a pang of regret that it had taken her so long to reach out to her again, but pushed the feeling aside.

Mary: “Why don’t you take a look around? I found some champagne I want to become better acquainted with. I can bring you some if you want; it may help enhance your viewing experience.”
Emily: “I’m OK for now. I want to get a sober first impression, and then I’ll let you know if I need to take you up on that offer.”
Mary: “I want to hear all about your various impressions later, and I expect you to be completely honest. Don’t try to spare my feelings.”
Emily: “I’ll consider it a mission! Find me if you need me.”

Emily was off in a heartbeat, leaving Mary to make her way to the refreshment table she’d spotted almost as soon as they’d walked in the door. The show was officially underway now, and people were beginning to show up in pairs and small groups. She wondered how many of them would buy one of her works for that spot over their fireplace, or for the blank expanse of wall between the library and the office. They were people not too unlike her parents, and she suspected she’d be making more than a few sales tonight.

Just as she was reaching for a glass of champagne, she had the feeling she was no longer alone.

Andy: "Mary McMally?”
Mary: “Yes?”
Andy: “I'm Andrew Stone; I own the gallery and am big fan of your work."
Mary: "It's an honor to finally meet you, Mr. Stone."
Andy: "Please, call me Andy."
Mary: “OK.”

Andy: "I have to tell you, the feedback I've been getting so far has been spectacular. I'm positive your work is going to be a huge success."
Mary: "Is that so, Mr.- Andy?"
Andy: "Absolutely. These are the sort of people who like to believe there's hidden meaning in everything they look at. Your art oozes with 'hidden meaning.' You know how to manipulate people, Mary. I respect that."
Mary: "Why, Andy, I have no idea what you're talking about."

Mary fought the urge to cringe as Andy burst into laughter. There was something about him that set her on edge, and she wasn’t sure how much of that was just her nerves.

Andy: “Of course not; how foolish of me! Regardless of your intentions, I can assure you you’ll be very happy with the results of tonight’s show.”
Mary: “Is that a promise?”
Andy: “I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”
Mary: “If I’m not, I’ll be holding you personally responsible.”

Mary gave her best toothy grin as Andy once more gave a good-natured laugh.

Andy: "Now, last we spoke you said you knew of a photographer in need of a studio. Would you mind if after the show tonight I got some contact information from you so I can set up an appointment to meet with them?"
Mary: "Actually, she came with me tonight. She’s over by ‘Drifting Chiaroscuro,’ but I’m sure she’d be happy to meet you.”
Andy: “Are you sure she wouldn’t mind? Tonight is about you, after all.”
Mary: “Emily? No way; she lives and breathes her photography. I don’t think she’d mind talking to you in the least.”

Mary led Andy across the gallery to where Emily was apparently lost in thought over one of her earliest pieces. She almost felt bad for disturbing her, but knew her friend was eager to get her new life started as soon as possible.

Mary: "Emily, this is Andy Stone; he owns the gallery and the photo studio I told you about."
Emily: "Very pleased to meet you, sir."
Andy: "The pleasure is all mine. And please, call me Andy. I hate formalities."

Again, Mary had to struggle with a feeling of unease as Andrew turned his full attention on Emily. There was no obvious reason that Mr. Stone should trigger her alarms; in all their dealings together over the last few months, he’d been nothing but professional. She knew you could never trust a businessman, but she had needed the money. His lawyer drew up a contract, and he refused to sign until Mary hired her own lawyer to look it over. Her lawyer suggested some changes, his lawyer accepted them, and the deal was done. It was just enough hassle to make her feel like she wasn't letting herself be taken advantage of, but still almost too easy. She was initially worried that he wanted something more than just a business relationship, despite never having met face to face, but she quickly realized that was not the case. He showed little interest in her personally, and it was usually his assistants who called to push her to make deadlines.

She was almost lost to her memories when movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention.

Mary: "Oh no... Can you excuse me, please? I'll just be a few minutes."
Emily: “Is everything OK?”
Mary: “Yeah, I shouldn’t be but a minute or so.”

Mary gave her best reassuring smile, then slipped away.

Mary: "James, was it?"
James: "Yes? Oh no, not you again"
Mary: "What are you doing here? Are you stalking me?"

The young man with the wildly cut hair looked at first startled, then confused.

James: "Stalking you? Why would I do that? I'm just here for the art show. Have you seen the artist around anywhere? I'm really hoping for a chance to talk to her."
Mary: "You're kidding, right?”
James: “No. Why would I be?”
Mary: “I'm the artist!"
James: "You're Mary McMally? Impossible."

Mary stared at the man in front of her in utter disbelief.

Mary: “Why is it impossible?”
James: “You just don’t seem like the artist type, that’s all. You really painted these?”
Mary: “Yes.”
James: “No kidding!”

Mary: "You're infuriating!"
James: "What? Why?”
Mary: “Of course, what did I expect from someone with an ego the size of yours. I’m surprised you could get through the door with it!”
James: “Damn, lady! I just wanted to compliment you on one of your paintings. You know what, forget it. I'm walking away from this. You're clearly insane."

Mary was very seldom rendered speechless, but the confrontation with James left her staring blankly ahead. Being called insane was nothing new to her, but the deep stinging hurt she felt this time was.

Trying to shake the feeling of confusion, she wandered back to the table with the champagne, and quickly downed a glass.