at Crawford and Company as assistant to the CEO—Mr. Crawford himself—but took over a managerial position when he retired.
She grabs my arm and we move through the crowd but it’s slow going because we’re stopped every couple of feet. Bethany introduces me to each person, most of whom are employees from Crawford and Company. Some are football players that must have come because of Bethany’s man, Brent Crawford. He was the tight end of the New York Sharks until a medical condition took him off the field last year.
“Make sure you check out the art show outside, there are some interactive walk-in exhibits and a silent auction!” Bethany calls back to some quarterback as we meander our way through clusters of people.
“Walk-in art exhibit? I’ll have to check it out.”
“It’s interesting,” Bethany says.
I smile at her, but then over her shoulder, a familiar figure in the crowd makes me do a double take.
“Bethany.” I grip her arm.
She looks down at my hand squeezing her bicep. “Is there a good reason you’re going all anaconda on me right now?”
“Why is Guy Chapman here?”
She follows my gaze and then nods. “Oh, yeah, him? One of his places did the dinner service. Why do you think we were able to charge $500 a plate? He’s like a big deal or whatever. Do you know him?”
“You could say that.” My stomach clenches. I can’t seem to get away from him. What if he sees me?
Her eyes brighten. “Let’s go talk to him.”
“No!”
Her brows lift at my sudden vehemence and then she grins. “There’s a story here and I have to know it. Tell me everything.”
“I can’t. I can’t be around him. I lose all control and then bad things happen.”
Her eyes widen and I immediately regret the mouth slip. Bethany is stubborn and determined and will torture the truth out of me. “I’m intrigued.” Her arm tightens on mine. “What happened?”
“Nothing important. I mean, I have to pee. Be right back.”
I push at her to unlock my arm from her death grip and do what I’m good at—run away.
“You’re such a liar!” she calls after me. “I know where you live, Scarlett!”
I keep going, too chicken to turn around and see if Guy heard her or noticed my abrupt departure and the subsequent yelling.
Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he won’t make the connection; I’m sure there’s more than one Scarlett in New York City. Unless he’s noticed the cupcakes…. Gosh darn it, my business cards are all over that table. If he sees me, I’m sunk.
I need to hide until dinner. By then everyone will be sitting and he won’t catch sight of me and I’ll survive another day. Dramatic, much? Maybe.
I escape out the first side door I come across. It opens into a wide hallway with cream walls speckled with prints and photographs of various sizes. Free standing sculptures dot the open space.
There’s a table set up to the side with silent auction boxes. A few people linger at the tables, filling out their bid sheets.
“We’ll be starting the speeches in twenty minutes,” the attendant by the door tells me. “At which time we won’t be allowing people back in to avoid interruptions.”
“Right. Got it. Thank you.” I smile.
There are about a dozen people walking around inspecting the pieces. It’s a lot quieter and less crowded than the ballroom.
I take a few deep breaths and wander through the hall, stopping to inspect some of the artwork. Some of them are Gwen’s photographs from her travels. Seeing them makes me miss her. I wish she could be here. I gaze at one of her pieces of a young child draped in colorful beads smiling at the camera, eyes gleaming with excitement. There’s another photograph of woven baskets. Then next to that, an amazing shot of a group of people dancing, their robes swirling and the colors making it appear almost like they’re in motion.
Down a side hall, I find the walk-in installation Bethany was talking about, literally a giant black box with an open doorway.
It’s like a free-standing room, ten by ten and at least seven feet tall. The outside is painted midnight black, but the entrance is curved, and the interior walls are bright white and sparkling with a swirly pattern.
I make my way inside. The open top provides the only illumination. The free-standing room is split into two sections by a low set wall. Set on top of the waist high divider are viewfinders. Behind the barrier is an empty, open space