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  ‘I would have invited you to have a drink with us, but we were pretty rowdy if I recall correctly.’

  ‘I did hear a glass or two break at one stage,’ Meg laughed. She took him through the proofs she’d printed for Bella and the ideas she had for the labelling stickers. When their second cups of coffee arrived they were wrapping up their business.

  ‘I’d love to get your ideas on something else while you’re here.’ He sat back on the couch and grazed Meg’s leg ever so slightly as he turned to face her. ‘Cassidy Designs are having a cocktail party for clients and VIPs, such as yourself; and I’m after an art gallery for a venue. Nothing too wanky, just a good, creative atmosphere for a corporate party. Would you know of any galleries that would suit such an event?’

  ‘My good friend, Avery, has shares in a gallery on East Street. It’s got a lot of her own work, as well as sculptures and furniture, on display. It’s colourful and fun, if that’s what you’re going for.’

  ‘That sounds perfect. I’ll drop by and have a look on the way back to the studio.’

  ‘As a matter of fact, that’s one of Avery’s paintings there,’ Meg said, pointing to the fire-scape on the wall in front of them.

  ‘Avery Cooper, I’ve heard the name before.’

  ‘She’s just won the Clementine Prize. It’s been all over the media.’

  ‘Wow.’ Byron was impressed. His business mind was conscious of the clout such a highly regarded artist could give Cassidy Designs by association. He wondered how they might be able to capitalise on the connection in his quest to expand Cassidy Design’s portfolio.

  Meg called Avery when she got home and told her that Byron and Simon were looking for a venue and that she had suggested Art on East.

  ‘Brilliant, I can talk to Dave about a discounted price given the captive, and hopefully cashed up, audience of business owners and the like that will be there. Bonnie’s crew can cater, like they do for all of the viewings, so we could do a package deal. Plus I’d finally get to meet the Cassidy boys.’ Avery was thrilled at the idea.

  ‘And you might even sell a few pieces on the night,’ Meg added.

  ‘There’s always that. It was nice of Byron to think to ask your opinion on this,’ Avery mentioned casually.

  ‘He probably just thought, given I’m a photographer, I might know the local gallery scene. Or he might just have been making conversation.’ But Meg blushed anyway.

  ‘Maybe, or maybe he values your creative opinion and likes to spend time with you,’ Avery ventured.

  ‘Anyway, it would be great if you could talk to Dave. I’ll send you their email address so Dave can contact Byron directly. They might even be able to use one of your prints on the invite,’ Meg added.

  ‘You just never know.’

  Chapter Ten

  When Meg opened her mailbox a week later, while sucking choc-hazelnut spread off a spoon, she pulled out a couple of bills, a pizza menu and an invitation to Cassidy Designs’ networking function, on the back of a poppy field painted by Avery. Meg put the spoon down and licked her lips as she held the invitation in her hand. The heavy card was a silvery blue, matching the sky in the painting. The typeface was understated and the text was minimal and to the point. There was a brief spiel about Cassidy Designs and their new suite of product offerings. Good job boys, Meg thought, and decided to RSVP as soon as she logged on to her computer.

  In the three weeks that followed, Meg finished working her way through the shot-list for Bella’s skincare range. She’d met with Byron and Simon a few times and, more often than not, ended up giving her opinion on other jobs as well. Meg didn’t want it to become a habit, but she couldn’t deny the sense of pleasure and gratification she got out of the brainstorming session and no-strings-attached consulting. She’d just enjoy it for a little while longer.

  On the night of the cocktail function, Meg and Avery arrived together. Meg admired the subtle touches the gallery had added creating a unique ambience specifically for the event. High, round cocktail tables, with candles burning softly in old Fowlers jars were positioned around the room to assist with networking and mingling. Jazz played softly in the background and a clear Perspex table held glasses of wine and platters of cheese.

  Avery’s attention was drawn to two tall men, who had to be the Cassidy brothers, talking to a strikingly beautiful and equally tall woman. There were only a couple of other people in the gallery and it wasn’t hard to tell who the showcase was all about. While the guests looked a bit crumpled as though they had come straight from the office, the brothers had made an effort in their tailored suits and dark open necked shirts. The woman they were standing with threw her head back as she laughed and Avery wondered how she stayed upright in those five inch stilettos.

  Simon looked over his champagne glass to see who had arrived. Bella hadn’t formally RSVP’ed but had said she would try to make it. By the door he saw Meg, in a plain yet elegant black dress, and with her a woman who dressed with a distinctly individual style.

  Grace followed Byron’s gaze as Simon walked towards the door. She noticed Byron stood taller to correct his posture, pulled at his waistcoat and ran a hand through his hair. All the while watching the small woman in the simple, flattering dress. She wondered if this was the photographer that he’d been talking a lot about lately. Grace thought she looked quite ordinary next to the lady with a fiery head of hair that radiated fun and freedom. As Simon escorted the two women over, Byron’s smile went up a couple of degrees.

  ‘Meg, so glad you could make it.’ He lightly kissed Meg’s cheek. ‘And Avery I presume.’ Byron took Avery’s outstretched hand. ‘You have some wonderful pieces in the gallery tonight, they sure make a colourful backdrop, almost like guests themselves.’ Byron shut his mouth to stop himself babbling and gestured towards his sister.

  ‘I’m Grace Cassidy.’ As more people entered the gallery, Grace positioned herself in order to guide the women towards a waiter. ‘Please help yourself to a drink and tell me all about your fascinating work,’ she added looking from Avery to Meg.

  Simon and Byron greeted the couple who entered behind them and were soon wrapped up in conversation and networking. Byron with his mind focused on the event, Simon with one eye on the door.

  As more people filled the gallery, Byron started to relax and enjoy the banter of work and social conversation. He had talked to Avery about her art and managed to weave in some thinly veiled questions about Meg. Trying to form a clearer view of the woman who had captured his attention so evocatively.

  At the same time, Avery was attempting to analyse Byron. He was obviously passionate about his work and seemed to be a genuinely nice person. Polite but not stiff, funny but not crass. Although she couldn’t get a firm grasp on his angle for wanting to work so closely with Meg, it didn’t seem at all threatening. She had also spent some time watching Simon. Simon was the cheeky one, she thought, flirting and charming with the women, fun and joking with the men. All in a friendly, light-hearted manner while still getting his sales pitch and business strategy across. Avery imagined Simon was a very smart individual who knew how to play on his attractive qualities to get what he wanted and have a laugh at the same time.

  Simon’s image of the person who’d painted the stunning oils hanging on the walls around them, didn’t match the ball of energy Meg was laughing with. He had imagined, without consciously realising it, that the person who painted these pictures would be a deliberately arty type, wallowing in sombre angst. But Avery seemed to be very down to earth, as they say, with strong ideals about living through her passion, as well as painting for a living. Avery had understood when Simon talked about the frustrations of working for larger corporate companies and the joy of finding a client who was willing to trust in their creative instinct. He enjoyed Avery’s company and momentarily forgot that Bella hadn’t shown up. He had begun to feel miserable and could have easily indulged too much in the wine. But he found talking to Meg and Avery was a refreshing change from a
lot of the other tedious conversations happening in the room.

  ‘It sounds to me like you enjoy being challenged. You like getting your own way but only if you have to work for it.’ Avery considered Simon. His strong jaw and fashionably cut hair. ‘For example I bet you don’t have to work very hard at getting women. And although that has its benefits, you must miss the thrill of the chase.’

  ‘Oh, I get my thrills, don’t you worry.’ Simon’s eyes sparked with mischief.

  ‘Maybe, but not that satisfying feeling after labouring after something for hours, days, weeks even, then finally securing the reward knowing that you deserve it.’

  ‘You are one entertaining broad, Avery.’ Simon narrowed his eyes at her as he sipped his wine. If only she knew just how accurate she was. ‘What about you then, what do you labour over just to secure a satisfying reward?’

  ‘Painting, but that’s obvious. Watching the full series of The West Wing. Oh, I do love making a good lasagne too, now that takes labour and patience to make from scratch.’ Avery smiled. ‘Anyway, what’s Byron’s deal? Is he going to ask Meg out or to join your company? I can’t tell.’

  Simon tossed his head back as he laughed, a lot like his sister had done earlier in the night. ‘Why can’t it be both?’

  ‘Why indeed.’ Avery clinked her glass with Simon’s. ‘It would take some gentle persuasion, on both fronts, but it sure would be an interesting challenge to undertake.’

  Grace was very proud of her brothers. Seeing them in action was a rare and interesting sight. She treated herself to another wine as she took in the striking paintings and unusually elegant sculptures. She was tired of making small talk with strangers and slowly made her way over to where Meg was sitting, to hopefully start up a more meaningful conversation.

  ‘What a successful evening,’ Grace commented.

  ‘By the sound of things, Simon will be putting that new software to good use.’ Meg turned on her stool to face Grace.

  ‘I think your friend Avery has got a bit out of tonight as well.’ Grace gestured to where Avery was talking animatedly to a couple about a painting.

  ‘A nice added bonus to the evening,’ Meg smiled politely.

  ‘More like a great marketing ploy on your behalf.’ Grace didn’t pause for Meg to respond. ‘Not that Avery needs much help. She knows how to work a room.’

  Meg kept smiling and sipped her wine.

  ‘Tell me, Meg, have you always been this introverted or did something happen in your life to trigger it?’

  If Meg’s mouth hadn’t been occupied by her glass, her chin would have dropped to the floor at Grace’s intrusion.

  ‘It’s just that you seem like you want to come out and play, but something’s stopping you. I was like that after dad died. Spiralled into deep depression and anxiety, he would have been devastated if he was watching.’ Grace subconsciously glanced up towards the ceiling. ‘It’s really only in the past twelve months that I’ve shaken the cloud away completely. I think that’s how I can sense when others are in a similar place, that knowing or intuition you get with experience. Please stop me if I’m wrong.’ Grace watched Meg carefully as she took a flamboyant gulp of wine.

  ‘Well, no one’s died, but...’ Meg didn’t know what to say.

  ‘Byron and Simon were great, we were all going through the same grief but in very different ways. I just felt so helpless, lost and sad all the time. Slowly the sadness eased and the good memories returned. I realised that I can’t control everything and that’s okay. And I certainly wasn’t alone; there were so many people to lean on, once I opened myself up to talk about it. Most of all I learnt to trust myself again. But I couldn’t have done that without the help of others.’

  ‘It’s really good that you had that support network. You certainly seem well adjusted and confident now.’ A stiff laugh caught in Meg’s throat.

  ‘The boys would hate to know that I’m bringing the mood down like this. I just want you to know that you aren’t alone, there are people you can talk to. We may not know the ins and outs but we’ve got enough understanding to help ease the burden.’ With that Grace downed the rest of her wine and sailed away.

  Meg was left feeling stunned, confused, and a little raw. Stunned that a near stranger would open up so willingly, confused that she herself would have triggered such an outburst, and a little bit raw from the words that resonated more than she’d expected.

  She watched as Grace entered a conversation her brothers were having about the amount of wine and food they were going through.

  ‘Always a good sign that you’re drumming up business.’

  ‘How do you figure that, sis,’ Simon asked.

  ‘I just know these things.’ Grace touched her finger to the side of her nose.

  ‘Grace, what were you just talking to Meg about? From here it looked like you were telling her a horror story,’ Byron half joked.

  ‘That’s none of your business little brother. But tell me this, why were you watching her so intently?’

  ‘I thought you might have been overwhelming her. You come on a bit strong, you know.’ Byron started to feel uncomfortable under his sister’s steady gaze.

  ‘Don’t worry, By, I’m sure Grace didn’t mess up your chances of wooing the pretty photographer.’ Simon smiled like a devil, obviously wanting to play.

  ‘Meg is a very talented, if not somewhat haunted, individual who I find artistic and fascinating.’ Byron shut his mouth and put his wine down.

  ‘Don’t worry, bro, you’re not telling us anything we haven’t already guessed.’ Simon laughed and winked at their sister.

  As the crowd thinned out Byron found Meg chatting with Avery, the owner of the gallery and a couple of clients. When Meg turned her attention to him, Byron decided to take a leap of faith. He started the conversation with talk of the evening’s success, the business he had drummed up as a result, and how rewarding it all was.

  Meg nodded, half listening, and noticed his casual demeanour, thinking it was a pleasant contrast from the beginning of the night. His hair was less perfect and his smile was warm. When she tuned back into the conversation, Byron was talking about business models, stability and security.

  ‘I know I’ve got Simon, and we work well together, but our business is growing and we need more specialised talent full time. Having your help on the Ferguson account was a completely different point of view that we hadn’t considered. Plus, being part of a business with friends and family is so much more rewarding, having people to share the ups and downs with.’

  Meg didn’t like his tactics. She had been burnt by Patrick because he was incapable of being forthright and honest. She was disappointed and angry to see this trait in Byron. He was obviously trying to persuade her into working with him and Simon on a more permanent basis. But instead of asking her, like a normal business arrangement, it felt like he was trying to manipulate her into agreeing to something without giving her the professional courtesy of discussing it first. She was offended that he didn’t think enough of her to come out and ask her directly. She hated subterfuge. She wondered if Grace had told her brothers her suspicion of Meg’s mental state. How dare they all treat her like a child. And a dim-witted one at that. She could all but feel the patronising tone in his voice, see the ‘there there’ look in his eyes. How dare he treat her like anything but the professional colleague she was.

  ‘Byron, I think I know where you’re going with this and please don’t waste your breath.’ Meg started to pull away from the group to a more private setting for the fireworks that were building inside her.

  ‘But Meg, I’m just saying that we trust you.’

  Meg’s jaw dropped an inch. There was only one reason he would use a word like trust. He’d heard about the investigation.

  ‘That’s not what I meant.’ Byron faulted as Meg got her bag off a nearby table. ‘You can trust us, we can trust each other. God damn it, why do I keep saying the word trust!’

  Meg started to back tow
ards the door, joining the dots in the various conversations throughout the evening.

  ‘I don’t know Byron, why is that? You and your sister have obviously done your Google research and you think you know who I am, based on what you think I’ve been up to in this last year. You want to fix the little broken girl, is that it? Or give me my big break, or get me back on my feet. Well let me tell you something for nothing. I’m fine. I certainly don’t need your help or your charity. And look, I know exactly where my feet are.’ She turned and opened the door that was now right in front of her, stepped through and let it shut between them.

  Chapter Eleven

  Byron was suffering from a wine-induced hangover and an embarrassment-induced pity party when Simon entered the studio the following day. Byron raised an eyebrow at his brother when he noticed Simon was still dressed in the clothes from the night before.

  ‘Well, that was an interesting evening.’ Simon ignored Byron’s look. ‘We spoilt our clients with good food and wine; we gained a fair bit of interest in our new offerings; and potentially chased away the best photographer we’ve had in ages.’ Simon went straight for the coffee.

  ‘First of all it was worth the expense, secondly we drummed up a lot of interest, and thirdly I didn’t chase anyone away ... I hope. Admittedly I could have waited until I was sober to have that conversation but I just went for it.’ Byron raked his hands through his hair and signed.

  ‘I just don’t understand why you didn’t use your wine-courage to ask her out on a date, not propose a business partnership.’ Simon considered his brother thoughtfully. ‘Or were you that drunk that you hoped to secure both?’

  ‘Shut up. I’ll just leave it for a couple of days and apologise for my apparently patronizing offer. Meg will be fine about it once she cools off.’

  ‘You also seem to be forgetting the fact that you didn’t consult the business partner you already have, before inviting a new one onto the scene.’ Simon wasn’t sure if that had even occurred to his brother yet.