Page 19 of Tides of Redemption
“Possibly,” she said vaguely. “Maybe someday. Thirty years is a long time to run a gallery, and there’s so much of the world to see.” She gestured to the exhibition. “But enough about me. You’ve done remarkable work here. The numbers are up.”
We walked through the gallery together, discussing the exhibition, sales figures, and upcoming artists. All the while, my mind raced ahead to what I needed to say, how much I needed to reveal.
Near the back of the gallery, beside a striking abstract, I stopped. “Mary Anne, I need to ask you something important.”
She turned, her expression curious.
“I’ve received a job offer,” I began. “A promotion at the Louvre.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Caleb, that’s incredible. Congratulations.”
“The thing is,” I continued, “I need to give them an answer in eight days. And I don’t want to go back to Paris.”
Understanding dawned in her eyes. “Ah. So, the retirement rumors suddenly matter quite a bit more to you.”
I nodded, swallowing hard. “I’d like to stay on as the director of the gallery, no matter what happens. Do you think there’s some way we could work that out?”
The words hung in the air between us. Mary Anne frowned. “If I retire and sell the place, I’d have no control over whether the new owner would want to keep you on.”
“Could you put in a good word for me?” I asked. “I have ideas for the gallery—maintaining a commitment to local artists, but also building stronger connections with the Bay Area scene, bringing in artists from San Francisco and Berkeley who might not otherwise exhibit in a small coastal town. Our partnership with the bookstore has already sold three Todd Matthews watercolors.”
Mary Anne studied me, her gaze sharp despite her relaxed demeanor. “This is quite a pivot from the Louvre. What’s really keeping you in Seacliff Cove?”
I hesitated, then decided on honesty. “Mason.”
“Ah.” Her expression softened. “I suspected as much. The way you two look at each other when you think the other isn’t watching… Well, let’s just say it reminds me of Joe and me, thirty-five years ago.”
My face warmed. “It’s complicated. We have history.”
“The best relationships usually do.” She studied the painting. “Tell me more about your vision for the gallery.”
For the next hour, we talked about business—my ideas for exhibitions, community engagement, and financial projections. Mary Anne asked pointed questions about my commitment to the community she’d nurtured for decades. The conversation felt both personal and professional, a negotiation and a confession.
“This gallery has been my life’s work,” she said finally, gazing around at the space. “It’s more than walls and paintings to me. It’s like a child I’ve raised. I’d need to find the right buyer.”
“I understand,” I said, my voice gentle, commiserating.
“And this isn’t just about business for you either, is it? It’s about your heart.”
I looked down at my hands. “Yes. Eleven years ago, I chose my career over love. I don’t want to make that mistake again.”
Mary Anne nodded slowly. “Joe was a travel writer when I met him. He wanted me to see the world with him. I chose to stay and build this gallery instead.” She smiled wistfully. “It took him five years to come back to me, to decide that loving me in one place was better than traveling the world without me.”
The story hit me with unexpected force. Years of separation, just like Mason and me. Except in our case, I had been the one to leave, and it had taken me eleven years to return.
Mary Anne leveled her gaze at me. “What would you say to buying the gallery yourself?”
I nearly choked on my tongue. “Buying it? Me?”
“Yes, you.” She smiled. “I’ve watched how you’ve transformed this place in a short period of time. The way you’ve connected with artists and customers, your eye for display, how you’ve increased our sales. The gallery would thrive with you at the helm.”
“I’m…I’m stunned.” My mind raced with possibilities. Owning the Coastal Light Gallery would mean putting down roots in Seacliff Cove. It would mean staying with Mason, having a real chance to rebuild what we’d once had. “I hadn’t even considered ownership.”
Mary Anne nodded knowingly. “Sometimes the best opportunities are ones we never planned for. I’d feel comfortable—relieved, actually—knowing the gallery was in your hands rather than a stranger’s.”
My initial excitement quickly collided with reality. “The thing is, I’m not sure I could qualify for a business loan. My credit is decent, but…” I trailed off, the practical obstacles mounting in my mind.
“Financing concerns can be worked out.” She waved her hand dismissively. “There might be ways to structure the deal that would work for both of us.”
