The night of the exhibition had finally arrived. Casey lifted her hair so Mark could zip her. The black dress with spaghetti straps fell to her knees.
Mark stepped back and appraised her. “You look stunning, Case.”
Casey viewed her reflection in their shared bathroom’s mirror. The result satisfied her. She hoped Leighton would like how she looked. “Thanks, but I just want to get this over with. You look nice in your tux.” She adjusted his tie.
“What’s the rush? There’s an open bar, and you have a handsome man as your date.” He brushed his lapels. “I think you need to reevaluate the situation. Let’s enjoy tonight.” He leaned against the door.
Casey applied some tinted lip color and met his eyes in the mirror. “You’re right. I don’t know what to expect, and that makes me nervous.”
He chuckled. “Well, here’s what we know. We both had our paintings accepted because we’re awesome. People will exclaim how talented we are and how sexy we look, and they’re right. Turn your head like this and pretend to blush as you thank them. Enjoy some free bubbly and view some great art.” He brushed his hands together. “Success.”
According to him, she needed to act like a 1940s film star. Casey searched for her mascara. “Right.”
He remained in the doorway. “Is something else wrong?”
“Regarding what we talked about…” She took a deep breath and looked at his reflection.
He shook his head. “Don’t make it weird, and it won’t be. I just wasn’t expecting to run into her at home. I’ve been in class with both of you for weeks since then. Why should tonight be any different? You said nothing is going on, and I believe you.”
“No, nothing is.” It wasn’t, despite what she wanted with every cell of her being. Over a year and a half still seemed like a long time to wait for someone. She and Leighton had talked little after she’d told her she’d spoken with Mark and had clarified things. They hadn’t texted at all, although she’d wanted to hundreds of times.
“Then do whatever you’re doing with your face so we can go. I don’t want to miss any of the canapes.” He rubbed his stomach and smacked his lips.
She gave him a push that sent him into the hallway. “Then leave me alone so I can finish getting ready.”
* * *
“Fifth Avenue and Twelfth Street.” Casey slid into the cab, and Mark climbed in behind her. The driver pulled into traffic. The heater blew warm air, fortunate for her since her dress exposed most of her legs and her coat covered little. A light covering of snow dusted the streets, but nothing that her heels couldn’t handle for the short walk from the cab to the club. She wasn’t about to wear boots with her evening wear tonight.
Her painting had been accepted into the exhibition, as had Mark’s and Erica’s. Stefan planned to be in attendance tonight for them, too. He even hinted he might bring a date. Casey only cared whether Leighton would be there. She’d said she would, but until Casey saw her, she wouldn’t be able to relax.
It meant something to Casey to have her painting chosen. To have her art shown alongside professionals was an accomplishment. She was still stunned the judges had picked hers. It’d been a blind jury, so they hadn’t known who the artists were, or with whom they might be associated. They’d chosen her work because of her talent. She wasn’t often proud of herself. It was a rare moment she considered herself good enough at anything. Tonight, pride filled her, and she wanted to share the moment with Leighton.
Casey almost hadn’t, but she’d emailed her parents’ joint email address a week ago when she received the news. She’d thought that perhaps now that she could show some success, they’d reconsider their decision. Along with her accomplishment, she’d attached a recent photo of Andy and told them how many words he’d learned and how he loved blueberries, dogs, and trains. She’d received no reply, so she checked the organization’s website, but their email address hadn’t changed.
The stately Fifth Avenue building that housed the Salmagundi Club glowed in winter’s early darkness as light poured from all four floors. With their coats checked and flutes of champagne in hand, Casey and Mark wandered through the galleries, eager to discover where their paintings hung. Laughter and the clicking of women’s high-heeled shoes on the honey-colored parquet floors filled the rooms. A pianist played classical music in the parlor.
Casey spotted Leighton across the Hartley Room, and her blood pounded in her ears. Leighton’s crimson-colored dress ended mid-calf, and a long slit exposed one leg to her thigh. She’d pulled her hair into a stylish twist, and a sleek sweep accentuated one side of her face. The sleeveless dress draped in folds over her chest and gave a stunning view of her cleavage. She spoke with a balding man.
Casey froze in her awestruck state for so long that Mark faked a cough to get her attention.
“Why don’t you go say hello?” He snagged a shrimp from a server’s tray. “I should find Erica, although she’s bringing Mr. Fancy New Boyfriend tonight and might not want me around.”
Casey nodded. Mark headed toward the parlor, and she walked toward Leighton.
Leighton spotted her and concluded her conversation with a smile and a brief touch to the man’s elbow. She turned to Casey. “Well.” Leighton appraised her.
Her dulcet voice made Casey’s blood race through her veins.
“You look lovely.” Leighton’s eyes gleamed.
Casey’s face grew hot as Leighton’s gaze traveled to her shoes and up again. She scrambled to find appropriate words to describe the apparition before her. Her mouth went dry. “That dress is gorgeous. You look gorgeous.” The bodice gave Casey the best view of Leighton’s cleavage she’d had to date. Leighton’s breasts appeared larger than she’d believed them to be. Her imagination filled in the details at lightning speed.
“Leighton!” An older gentleman rushed forward and clasped Leighton’s hand between his. His silver hair complemented his tuxedo. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but it’s so good to see you. I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of seeing your beautiful face since—”
“The Vigée Le Brun exhibition at the Met.” Leighton flashed him a smile before she kissed him on the cheek. “Nice to see you again, Alfred. May I introduce you to Casey Norford?” She took her elbow, pulling Casey beside her. “Her painting is featured in tonight’s exhibition. Casey, this is Alfred Harrington. Alfred is involved in private painting conservation and restoration.”
“Lovely to meet you, Miss Norford.” Alfred kissed her hand in a manner that pointed not only to his age but his upbringing. “May I assume you’re Leighton’s student?”
“Yes, I’m fortunate to attend Atelier Vaughn.”
“She’s the most talented student I’ve had, though I’ll deny it if you tell the others.” Leighton looked at her in a way that made Casey want to squirm.
“That, my dear, is quite the compliment coming from your instructor.” Alfred nodded toward Leighton. “She knows fine art when she sees it. I don’t recall a teacher accompanying a student before, and I’ve been coming to this event for years. She must be quite proud of you.”
“She didn’t accompany me.”
“Oh, we’re not together.” Leighton turned her head and took a sip of champagne.
Casey hoped their quick corrections hadn’t sounded like they hid something. Her discomfort grew because everything reminded Casey of her status as just another one of Leighton’s students, despite Leighton’s effusive praise regarding her talent. Would that ever change?
After more pleasantries and congratulations, Alfred apologized and disappeared when he spotted another acquaintance.
Once he was out of earshot, Casey exhaled. “I wish you could’ve accompanied me tonight.” She came across sounding wistful and sullen and wished she’d said nothing.
Leighton stiffened. “We’re both here, and how we arrived doesn’t matter. I’m proud of you and wanted to be here to support you.” Leighton touched her arm but withdrew her hand right away.
Casey’s shoulders sagged. “Proud of your student. What you mean is you’re proud of your student.”
“No, that’s not what I meant. Don’t put words in my mouth.” She downed the rest of her champagne. “Besides, this isn’t the place for that conversation.”
Casey might be Leighton’s student, but that shouldn’t be what defined her. She saw herself as so much more. An artist, a mother, and a woman. One with hopes, fears, and desires. Would Leighton ever see her that way?
A server passed with a tray of flutes, and they exchanged empties for fresh glasses as a dark-haired woman in a stylish pantsuit approached.
“Well, if it isn’t Leighton Vaughn.” She greeted her with a kiss on both cheeks.
“Louise, have you moved back or are you visiting?” Leighton looked happy to see her.
“I’m only here for the holidays. Then I head back to Florence.”
Leighton used the opening to introduce them when Louise turned to Casey. “Louise, this is Casey Norford. She’s a fabulous up-and-coming artist, and she has a painting in the exhibition. Casey, meet Louise D’Angelo. We studied together in Florence. Louise loved the city so much she never left. Now she teaches art history there.”
Leighton had introduced her as an artist but not as her student, and Casey didn’t know if the omission was intentional.
“It’s nice to meet you, Louise. You’re so fortunate to live in Italy.” Casey couldn’t imagine such a rich experience.
Louise provided anecdotes about Florentine life and gave Leighton updates on mutual acquaintances until a chime sounded and the music stopped. A feminine voice tested the sound system.
“Everyone, please make your way to the Skylight Gallery. Our awards ceremony will begin in a few minutes.”
The crowd seemed to move en masse, and soon most of the event’s attendees gathered in the upstairs. It was standing room only, and artwork adorned the walls surrounding them, or rather, paintings of the female nude did. It was quite the display. No wonder they considered the feminine body the greatest work of art.
Across the room, Casey spotted Mark and Erica. She assumed the handsome man to Erica’s left was her boyfriend. Erica gave her a little wave, then grinned and pointed at Casey’s painting.
Casey had thought it looked nice in Atelier Vaughn’s gallery. Here, it looked impressive enough to hang in a museum. Had she painted something decent? It was the most involved painting she’d ever done.
“Does it feel real yet?” Leighton had been watching her.
“Having it hanging here? No.” She laughed. “I keep waiting for someone to tell me they made a mistake.”
Leighton shook her head. “You need to believe in yourself. Can’t you see what you’ve done?”
Casey had never had an accurate gauge of her abilities. She was a talented artist, but she didn’t know the line where good turned to great, or if she’d ever reach that level.
The ceremony was about to begin. Should she stand with Mark and Erica? Would it look strange to remain with Leighton?
The club had erected a small platform stage and podium at one end of the room. A woman tapped the mic and saved Casey from having to decide. “Good evening, and welcome to tonight’s exhibition, Adoration of the Female Figure.” Conversations died down. “My name is Cordelia Witherson, and as President of the Salmagundi Club, I have the honor of announcing the awards tonight. The last one announced will be the Best of Show, which includes a six-month, all-expenses paid trip to Florence to study some of the world’s finest art.”
Casey didn’t know the artists who took home third, second, then first place. Leighton didn’t seem to either by her conservative applause. Casey agreed with two of the three winners. She would’ve chosen a different third place. Mark’s and Erica’s paintings were better than the one with the bronze ribbon pinned beside it.
“Now, the moment you’ve been waiting for. The artist whose painting has received Best of Show and has won six fabulous months in Florence is…” Cordelia stretched her pause with a cat-like smile. “Casey Norford.”
Casey saw the woman at the podium and people clapping, but she couldn’t hear them. Everyone appeared to be looking around the room.
“That’s you, darling.”
Leighton’s voice broke through her clouded state, and the clapping and hooting startled her.
With a hand on her back, Leighton pushed her toward the stage.
Casey had some memory of making eye contact with Mark and Erica as she accepted her award. She tried to find Leighton in the crowd. Near the back of the room, she spotted Stefan with a red-haired man. He pumped his fist in the air like the Giants had intercepted the ball in the fourth quarter of a tied game. Everything happened so fast, and she’d prepared zero words of thanks. She hadn’t believed she had a chance at winning.
Somehow, she remembered to thank her support network and mentioned Mark, Erica, and Aileen. She thanked Stefan, Leighton, and Atelier Vaughn. Then she looked at the heavy award with her name on it. “Finally, I’d like to thank someone who’s not here tonight because it’s past his bedtime. He gives my life meaning and is my inspiration. My son, Andy.”
The knowledge she’d won and would be living in Italy seemed surreal. Florence, for half a year. Only a few weeks of class remained before the semester’s end. How strange to think she wouldn’t be a student at Atelier Vaughn after that.
When the applause finished, Casey accepted congratulations from dozens of people whose names she’d never remember. Most of the event’s attendees had moved to other rooms, but Mark and Erica lingered. They hugged and congratulated her.
Erica pulled her boyfriend closer. “Casey, this is Quentin Cohn.”
Casey shook his hand. He seemed pleasant but bored.
“Stefan and his date went in search of alcohol since you looked like you’d be busy for a bit.” Mark tugged at his tie.
Casey scanned the room. A crimson dress was hard to miss, especially since people had filtered downstairs. “Where’s Leighton?”
“I don’t know.” Mark’s mouth pulled to the side. “I’m trying to remember if I’ve seen her since your name was called. She might have wandered into another gallery.”
That didn’t seem like Leighton. Not that she didn’t appreciate art, but Casey had won. She’d won Best of Show and the goddamned trip to Italy. Where the hell was Leighton?
She tapped Mark’s arm. “I’m going to find her.”
“Want help?” The tray headed their way with some sort of fried tidbit on it had already caught his eye.
“No, I’m sure I’ll find her.” Casey left the gallery but not before swiping one more glass of champagne. After winning, she deserved it. Of course, she’d have preferred to toast her win with Leighton.
She didn’t wander through the libraries or the other galleries. Instead, she went straight to the coat check desk. The young man extended his hand for her ticket, but she stopped him.
“Hi, sorry. Did you notice a woman in a red dress leave?”
“Yeah, she was the first person to retrieve her coat, right after the loudest burst of applause. She seemed in a hurry.”
“Oh.” The room spun a little. Leighton had left.
“Did you need anything else?” He brushed the front of his vest and reached for his phone he’d laid face down.
She considered her options and unzipped her wristlet to find her ticket. “Just my coat, please.”
When he’d retrieved it, she tipped him a couple of dollars more than usual since he’d been helpful, and she had every right to be celebratory.
Not only had they deemed her painting the best in the exhibition, but she was going to Florence for six months. Yet Leighton hadn’t stayed to celebrate or even congratulate her. She didn’t understand why.