Page 11 of Clear Path

“But my body has no bearing on the theme of the show. The exhibit is titledPush/Pullbecause it documents the displacement of people and businesses along the trail who’ve been pushed out as part of the effort to attract tourists and more lucrative businesses. Your idea would detract from the installation’s impact, not add to it.”

He protested, undeterred. “Imagine the attention it would generate.”

Had he even glanced at the images she’d sent him? Did he have any idea what the show was about?

“My answer is no.” She spoke firmly but calmly.

“Hold on a second. I’m going to duck into a coffee shop where it’s quieter.” She listened as the street noise faded and a bell jangled. He spoke again in a muffled tone. “That’s a problem.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Why are you making such a big deal out of this?”

“I don’t want to do it. You asked; I answered.” She reminded herself that no was a complete sentence.

“Lucas told me you would definitely do it.”

Lucas. She knew it. She clutched the stem of her glass and steadied her voice. “He isn’t authorized to speak for me.”

“Well, I thought he’d know. So I …,” he trailed off.

“You what?”

He cleared his throat. “I already sent out the press release.”

“Excuse me?” Hot anger surged through her chest and her heart thumped.

“What’s the problem? You used to take your clothes off all the time. Just take a few shots—make them as artsy as you want. We’ll hang them in the back corner. They won’t take away from the impact of the exhibit.”

“I said no.”

Tripp sighed heavily. “Well, Rory, I don’t know what to tell you. My hands are tied. If you’re not gonna do it, then I’ll have to cancel the show.”

“What?” The word shot from her mouth like a missile.

“I can’t send out another release that says, ‘No, as it turns out, there won’t be a series of nudes of the photographer.’ I’ll look like a joke.”

It didn’t seem to matter to him thatshewould look like a joke if she inserted nude self-portraits in her exhibit about economic displacement. But there was no point arguing with Tripp.

“Then I guess the show’s canceled.”

She ended the call over his blustering.

After a moment, she stepped out onto the balcony with her champagne, filled her lungs with cool evening air, and blinked back tears of rage. Then she leaned on the railing to look down at the street below. Fairy lights twinkled from the storefronts and lamp posts. Acoustic music floated up from the open windows of the coffeehouse. Across the street, she spotted Julie at a table on the bistro’s patio. She sat alone, nursing a glass of wine and studying the menu.

Rory downed the rest of her drink and rushed back inside. She couldn’t do anything about Tripp and the show right now, but she could ask Julie why the hell she’d made a lifelong resident of the town homeless.

She ran a brush through her tangle of white-blonde hair and swiped a lipstick over her mouth. Then she threw a soft, snowy cashmere shawl over her uniform of fitted black tee shirt and jeans. Appearances mattered to Julie. And Rory knew how to play this game.

7

Union Hill

Julie swirled her glass of cabernet sauvignon, savoring the complex notes of blackberry, coffee, and cedar as she studied the bistro’s menu. The crispy duck confit with wild mushroom risotto caught her eye as the perfect celebratory meal. Today marked a significant milestone in the Allegheny Luxury Lofts project, and she intended to toast her success properly, even if she dined alone.

The lights strung across the bistro’s patio bathed the cobblestone courtyard in a warm glow. As Julie swept her gaze over the lit-up boutiques and restaurants that lined Railroad Way, glittering like gems in the dark, and a rush of pride washed over her.

Five years ago, this stretch had been a sad collection of vacant storefronts and crumbling buildings. The structures were neglected relics of a long-ago era when the railroad and coal had brought prosperity to these hills. Forget vacationers, the residents couldn’t wait to escape. The Great Allegheny Passagehad brought new life to the region and she—Julie Mason—had seized the opportunity with both hands.

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