The Blood Heiress

Asking for Help

Adella

“Mr. King, I would like to introduce you to our new Mistress, Adella Russo,” Ben made a grand sweeping gesture towards me. Mr. King had been gardening when we found him. Though I wasn’t certain that a man so young could be Mr. King. He was indeed an older gentleman but nowhere near as old as I had expected.

“A pleasure to meet you. The grounds always look so lovely, you have provided excellent care.” I hoped giving him a compliment might help. Instead, he coldly looked at my outstretched hand and then up to my face. I saw recognition flicker for a moment in his eyes and then it was gone.

“Nice to meetcha, Miss Smith.” He blatantly ignored my true surname and stuck my given one. He watched my face expectantly I tried not to react and kept my smile plastered.

“Now, Mr. King we have already spoken about this. She is Adella Russo.” Maria piped up.

“If you say so, as far I knew there wasn’t an Adella Russo for her to be claiming to be,” He crossed his arms.

“Edward,” Ben’s voice grew stern. “She is the Russo heir. Whether or not you believe it changes nothing.”

Edward threw his hands up in surrender. “Have it your way then.” He turned his attention to me once more and in an affected accent said, “I am pleased to make your acquaintance Miss. Russo.” He bowed deeply. Ben and Maria both visibly relaxed.

“Please call me Adella.” I offered. Both Ben and Maria did perhaps if he could too it may soften things.

“No” Edward straightened up and turned back to the dirt, ending the conversation.

“Come now Adella that was the best we could hope for,” Maria turned me around and guided me back to the house. Ben hung back and followed. I resolved then that I would find a way to prove myself to Mr. King and win him over.

I spent the rest of the day looking over ledgers in the library with Ben getting an idea of how the estate was handled. Our lesson took us long into the evening and my mind eventually gave out while my body revolted with its need for nourishment. A great deal of satisfaction filled me despite it. In learning about how to manage my parents' estate, my family's legacy I felt closer to them.

***

“Ah, just the young lady I was looking for,” René gushed as I entered his office.

“Good morning Mr. Gaultier.”

“Psh, call me René, Miss Smith,” He smiled widely. “I already told you that. Here is the schedule leading up the Ms. Moretti’s exhibition. Take note of the arrival date for her pieces. Under the schedule are print outs of each of the known pieces that will be on exhibit. She has not confirmed every piece yet, but I expect she will shortly. Do you need anything else to get started?”

“No, this is perfect, thank you.”

“Should you need anything later please let myself, Silvia or Greta knows. I will say this again, though it should go without saying at all, this gallery prides more than anything itself on its exhibitions, the respect and reputation they provide us with. Ms. Moretti is trusting us with her work, and we need to deliver. Please don’t hesitate to double check on any detail. Triple check if needed.”

I nodded and he waved me out the door. I almost felt giddy knowing that exactly what I needed to start was in my hands. I rushed out to the gallery and sat on that same bench I had shared with Cass. The photos of her works went on the floor in front of me spread out so I could see them in the space. Paintings formed most of this collection. Paintings in monochromatic colors with a pop of something here and there that didn’t fit. Her artwork in other mediums was much the same, monochromatic with a pop of color that didn’t fit. While her style wasn’t formless it leaned heavily on color over form. I found that I liked it it felt familiar and intriguing.

From what I could glean out of the research I could conduct at home; placement of these pieces was going to be everything. Though I really couldn’t get placement down until I had the pieces with me but at least I could get an idea and start making plans for coordinating colors and a theme for the exhibit. I furiously wrote down notes on page after page trying to brainstorm as much as possible. I could pare down later.

“There you are,” René’s voice slightly echoed through the empty space. “The first pieces have arrived ahead of schedule. Come, come it is time to see them in person. Meet me in the archive room I will have them delivered there.”

Quickly, I gathered up the papers and went down the hall to wait. The archive room looked just as I had left it last week. I heard a knock at the door and held it open for the cart carrying the long-awaited Moretti art. As the cart passed through, I was greeted with the familiar face of Cassian Moretti. He is an errand boy! I couldn’t help the silly smile that appeared. I had seen another side of him yesterday, but the image of him as the flirtatious, handsome bartender was still the default for him in my mind.

“Dells, nice to see you again so soon,” He brought the cart alongside the worktable.

“Dells?” I paused testing out my newly minted name.

“You don’t like it?” He placed one hand on his hip and the other he ran through his hair.

I shrugged “Just that no one’s called me that before. I don’t mind” I moved to the cart and started unloading.

He let out a whistle that jolted me. “So, you’re telling me, I am the first. That it’s just between us?” His face was suddenly in front of mine as I set the crated piece on the table. The blush was involuntary.

I shook my head to cool my cheeks and moved around him. “Help me get these unloaded.” His smile lessened a bit and he pitched in. I laid them out and checked them off the inventory sheet sent with them. Cass just leaned up against the table next to me with his arms crossed. “Are any of these her signature piece?” I turned to him as he was taking his time to answer. He shifted away from the table and pulled out his phone.

“She didn’t tell me. I will ask,” He shot off a text and while we waited for a reply, I grabbed a crowbar and began to uncrate. I put another check next to each item as I verified it by sight. “She says that the signature is still with her.”

“Thanks Cassian,” I finished the last one and found myself out of things to do. In the absence of a task the fact that I was alone with Cass in a closed room became forefront in my mind. Ask him about helping you I remembered what Verity had told me while shopping. “Hey, have you been to many exhibitions?”

Cass moved to where I was leaning on the table and joined me. “Yeah a few.” He searched my face and I flushed again under his stare. His lips quirked up in a victorious smile. “You got to work on your poker face Dells.” He says in a low voice emphasizing my new nickname.

I frowned, this man! “I haven’t been to one before…” I watched as concern registered on his face for the briefest of moments before his usual default replaced. Perhaps I was wrong that he was an open book. Maybe he just wanted everyone to believe he was. “Would it be okay if you could, maybe, when I needed it, help me with this one?” It was my turn to search his face. His intense gaze captured mine. "Or help me get into contact with Valerie so that I can ask her for some input here and there...."

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” The words left him laced with accusation, I shrank back. “Sorry, sorry. I just meant...” He put a hand on each of my shoulders. “I am sorry, it isn’t your fault. I wasn’t listening. You did try to tell me. Yes, I can help however you need it." His hands on each of my shoulders were distracting. "I got you into this mess." With that he folded his arms across his chest. I felt lighter, knowing that I did have support if I needed it. That I didn't have to stumble along.

“Thank you,” I replied gratefully, and shake off the feeling of his hands. What is going on with me? He is just a touchy feeling person. Get a grip.

The door opened and we both turned, I took a few steps away from Cassian as well. René walked into the room and looks over the table surveying it. His face creased up into what is clearly not a natural look for him. I realized the grimace is supposed to be a smile, he was pleased with my progress.

“As you can clearly see we will be having a mixed media exhibit. This will require careful planning to ensure that no one supporting piece overwhelms or overshadows another. And that they all lead to the capstone piece. What do you think Adella?”

“I had the same thoughts in the gallery earlier when I was looking over the printouts.” I moved over to the table and began to share a little of my brainstorming with René to test the waters. I didn’t catch Cassian leave the room; however, he was not present when our consultation finished. I was about to start panicking after he had assured me that he would help should I needed it. That was until I found that he had left behind his number scrawled on the bottom one of my pages of notes.

That small crisis averted, I spent a few more hours planning in the archive room with the pieces. It was easier now to see how this might all come together, and I hardly felt like I was suffocating under the weight of the task. With the promise of some outside help, I really dug into getting some thoughts onto paper. Around 6pm, I realized I had overstayed. I packed up my things and headed home feeling, for the first time after starting at the gallery, content and hopeful.

***

It didn't take me far in to the week to figure out that to continue, I needed to contact Valerie to pick her brain a bit. I was adamant that I was not going to lean on the gallery staff or René, but Valerie surely could give me some input on the direction I was heading. That and I really needed to see her signature piece to judge for myself how I was doing. I couldn't do much else in the empty East Gallery, so I decided to use the rest of my time for the day off campus. I pulled out my phone and hesitantly texted Cassian to see if he could set something up and waited for his reply. It was quick in coming. He wanted to meet at his bar asap and then go from there. I packed up my things and informed René of the change in locations for my planning. As expected, he agreed readily and praised it as a great idea. My fortunes at the gallery had changed completely since that day with the Moretti's.

I walked the 20 minutes from the gallery to the bar, thoroughly enjoying the brisk spring day. The traffic was relentless, and the sidewalks crowded but the thrum of the heart of the city was invigorating. It was far too early in the day for The Marksman to be opened but I still found the bar's door to be unlocked. I entered casually, in the daylight the interior was dull and rather lifeless. I moved to the bar and sat looking around for a bell or something to call Cass's attention. I couldn't see anything of the sort. Checking the time to see if maybe I had arrived too early, I decide to look around a bit.

The quiet was so misplaced in a place that is meant to be humming with music and conversation. Bustling with life. I walked around the dance floor and to the sound booth, eerily silent and still. Curiosity guiding me as I momentarily let my reason for searching take a back seat. I hadn't been to this area of the space before and noticed a door behind the stage and sound booth area that said staff only. It was ajar and I could hear music coming from it. Looks like I had found Cassian. Behind the door was a storage room, inventory for the bar and supplies were neatly organized on the racking. Cass was nowhere to be seen, so I followed the music to the back wall and found a staircase. The music was coming from up the stairs. I felt a little odd intruding any further.

"Cassian?" I shouted up the stairs.

"Dells, is that you?" I heard his voice drift down.

"Yeah, it's me. We are meeting today about the exhibition remember. You told me to come over." I stepped forward onto the bottom stairs to ensure he could hear me better. I heard his steps going back and forth at a quicker pace.

"I will be right down, go ahead and wait for me at the bar." His handsome face peered down the stairwell for a moment. I returned his smile, then headed back to the bar. To pass the time, I decided to make a note of all the different types of alcohol behind the bar. I was up to twenty-three when I hear him walking towards me.

I swiveled my stool to greet him. "Thanks for agreeing to help me. I wasn't expecting you to be able to help out so quickly. I hope I am not imposing." His green eyes lit up when I looked his way.

"No imposition, Dells. Did you forget I invited you here?" I shook my head. "I happened to have an opening in my schedule. You fit in perfectly so no more of that." He walked straight behind the counter and began banging around. His natural environment. I giggle at my thought which causes him to raise an eyebrow at me.

"Care to share with the class?" He placed two glasses on the counter behind the bar and looked up a casually curious eyebrow quirked up.

"Nothing to share." I pulled out my notes from my bag and placed them on the counter.

"Before we start in on all that care for a drink?"

"Water is good for me thanks." He filled both our glasses from the tap and took the stool next to me.

"While I applaud your healthy habits, you have a world class barkeep at your disposal right now." He narrowed his eyes slightly and his lips scrunched to one side, giving the overall impression of being displeased with my perceived snub of his talents. I didn't hold back the smirk that formed in response.

"Well, let's just say last time did not go so well for me. It will take a while for me to work up the courage to try again." Taking a chance I gave him a wink.

"Ouch, Dells. I see how it is." His full lips pouted in mock sadness and in retaliation he scooped up my notes and held them from me. "So, this is what you have so far?"

"Yes, I am prepared to explain them." I tried to grab them out of his hands, but he pulled them just out of reach.

"Well, give it a go then while I look them over." My eyes narrowed and I shot him a glare landing it on his gloating face.

"It would be easier if I had them or knew what you were looking at, you know so I can appropriately elaborate."

"Fine, I am on page one, paragraph one" His eyes widened in mock surprise and shock as I managed to grab the notes out of his hands. He absolutely let me do that. But I still triumphantly smiled and made a point of reorganizing the notes.

"Basically, all my research into exhibitions point to a theme being present, the placement of the pieces inviting flow and culminating with the signature piece and making sure that the entire experience is covered. Music, food, decorations. The whole environment is modified to showcase and highlight what the artist is trying to convey."

"So, what is my sister trying to convey?" Cass leaned onto his left arm resting on the bar while his body is oriented to face me. Uncertainty was bubbling up as I considered his question.

"I am not her so I cannot answer that. I can only tell you what I get from it."

"And that would be?"

"Without her signature piece my ability to answer is compromised." My head turned away from his open gaze.

"I disagree Dells, you sound like someone who knows the right things."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means what it means. Art isn't art because you know what makes it art. Art is art because it feels like art."

"So, I need to feel her art to pull together the exhibition?"

"In a way yes, Art will speak to everyone differently depending on their own experiences. The planner, i.e. you, need to find the core of the exhibition, the most universal of feelings it evokes and elaborate on it. It is subtle but makes all the difference."

"But I can't do that, I told you the signature piece hasn't arrived."

"That won't change much. The signature piece is just more of the same. It might be a bigger more, smaller more, more concentrated more. But at the end of the day, it will still fit with the rest of the pieces in all the ways that count but just be more of it."

I sighed at his explanation. I understood at a basic intellectual level. But it didn't resonate with me any deeper than that.

"Let me show you something." He offered his hand to me, I just stared at it for a moment. "You just need to look at it another way." He reoffered his hand and I took it. It was so warm, and I couldn't ignore the tingles that filled my hand as his engulfed mine.