He held up his hands in surrender. “That’s why we have to look at other options. Other ways to get you into the galleries. Other ways to get your work out there.”
“Out there.” She gave air quotes to emphasize the derision in her voice.
“Kat, what’s so bad about giving it a try?”
“Those kinds of fairs don’t attract high-end gallery owners. They attract the general public, and they’re demeaning. No way am I going to sit at a table and watch people who know nothing about art walk right past my work slurping on shaved ice. That kind of low-level exposure isn’t what I need. Those events would be a complete waste of my time.”
He looked away as disappointment settled like a wet blanket on his shoulders. That was some attitude. Mixed with a dose of privilege and stubbornness. “What about the online dealers? Have you reached out to some of them?”
“Not yet. I thought I’d get picked up after the gallery show. Otherwise, it’s just stabbing in the dark.”
“Most people don’t get to start at a high-end gallery in New York City, babe. That’s a pretty high bar you’ve set.”
“It’s my goal.”
“And you won’t consider anything else?” He raked a hand through his hair, his frustration mounting. He came all this way to support her, to try and help. But she wasn’t even trying to be open-minded.
“Why should I? Are you saying I should lower my standards?”
“No, but you need to be realistic. And there’s more than one way to get there.”
“I do not want to go back to square one.Belowsquare one.”
Nick spread his hands. She was hurt, and he didn’t want to make her pain any worse, but he couldn’t handle this elitist attitude. “Below?” He shook his head. “Kat, I don’t get it. It’s like somewhere along the way, your parents said people who had to sit at a table and sell their wares were cheap or desperate or some damned thing, and you bought into it. You want to be in a glitzy gallery in New York where people stroll through and ooh and ahh over your work as it shines in the spotlight against a pristine white wall, but you don’t want to pay your dues to get there.”
He could see the anger simmering in her eyes as they shot daggers at him. He should probably shut up but–
“For your information, I’ve been paying my dues for years. I’ve beat the streets–”
“The swanky streets of New York’s top art galleries. You want to skip all the dirty work because you’ve been told all your life that the rules don’t apply to you, that you get to start at the top. Well, guess what? Most people have to start at the bottom and work their way up, whether it’s doing the grunt work, or taking the bad hours or putting in overtime and not getting paid for it.”
“Are you mad because I don’t want to put my paintings in your shop? Is that what this is all about?”
Nick raked a hand through his hair. She didn’t see it. Hell, he didn’t see it at first. Correction, he’d wondered if it was lurking below the surface. “No. Yes, I’d love to have your pieces there, but actually this illustrates my point. You think my little shop is too rinky-dink for you. Your paintings can’t hang side-by-side with no-namers in some little Colorado co-op. You belittle people who teach, assume they’re losers who couldn’t cut it. You look down your nose at anyone who isn’t following the path you think you deserve.”
He blew out a long breath and met her eyes. “You’re right. No one’s getting rich selling out of my store. But they’re making connections. Some have got corporate deals. Some are just happy to have a place to sell their work because they enjoy brightening someone’s day.”
“Well, that’s not me.”
Disgust rolled over him. “Got that loud and clear.”
She stared at him in stony silence.
“Do you get any joy out of it, Kat? The day I saw you working with the kids, I thought you did. But now I wonder, was it all for show? Something to put on your résumé?”
“What about you?” Her voice pitched higher and louder. “I suppose interviewing for HBTV was altruistic, just trying to give people free advice for their home remodeling project? Had nothing to do with money? Tell me you aren’t looking for fame and fortune, Nick.”
“Sure. But I didn’t start with that as my goal. It took me years to get here. And I got a lucky break.”
“Well, I guess I’m not as lucky as you.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. This isn’t helping. It’s making–”
“You know, Kat. Sometimes you’re more like your mother than you realize.”
She was about to take a drink but instead slammed the glass onto the counter and gaped at him. “Excuse me?”Steely blue eyes stared into his.“Thatis the meanest, most insulting thing you could say to me.”
“I didn’t mean it as a compliment.”
She moved from the counter and put her hands on her hips, facing him. “What exactly do you mean?”
