My Composure After Divorce Became His Greatest Torment Chapter 28
A year later, the gallery opened a second location in Boston.
Before the opening, Tessa walked in with the guest list, an eyebrow raised.
“Those Newport wives have requested invitations. Do I let them in?”
I was in the center of the gallery, adjusting a spotlight.
“If they buy a ticket, they can come in.”
“No VIP seating?”
“There’s no family head table here.”
Tessa laughed.
On opening day, a line formed outside the door.
The two clients who had canceled after the gossip column appeared were there. One of them apologized, saying she never should have believed a one-sided story.
I accepted her apology, but I didn’t restore her priority purchasing status.
Forgiveness doesn’t mean you tear down your fences.
That afternoon, my father came into the gallery, leaning on a cane.
After his heart attack, he rarely traveled, but he had insisted on being here.
He stood before the company plaque, reading the name on it over and over.
*Elise Ward Art.*
“When I went bankrupt, I always felt like I’d dragged you down with me.” His voice grew thick with emotion. “When you married into the Prescott family, I thought you’d finally be safe.”
I straightened his scarf.
“I thought so, too.”
He took my hand. “And now?”
“Now I know that being safe has nothing to do with who you marry.”
Across the gallery, Tessa was reviewing a contract with a young artist. She still pointed out every risk, but she no longer tried to choose my path for me.
I looked at her and smiled.
“It’s about having the ability to say no to the life you don’t want.”
After the opening, the company used its first profits to establish an annual grant for emerging women artists.
We didn’t ask for elite schools or respectable family backgrounds.
The application asked only for their work, their budget, and what they dreamed of creating.
After reading the guidelines, Tessa asked, “Not afraid of investing in the wrong person?”
“I am.”
“But you’re doing it anyway?”
“In business, you calculate your return on investment. But giving someone a chance to choose for herself doesn’t have to have a price.”
She looked at me for a long moment, then pulled me into a hug.
Years ago, she had paid my tuition with her entire savings.
Now, I could finally pass that chance on to someone else—the way she had once passed me a set of keys.