“Yourresponse,” she says. “You mean your inappropriate public meltdown?”
I draw a careful breath through my nose. “I understand why you saw it that way, but truly, that scene was limited only to the people sitting right there.”
“And whoever they gossiped to.”
“Granted, but the vast majority of people didn’t hear anything about it. Even my boss didn’t hear about it untilyoucalled him the next morning and made it an issue.”
“It would have been inappropriate in any social or professional environment no matter the visibility.”
“Hayes deserved it.” My voice is flat. That is the truth, and I’m not debating it. “On another note, I want to make sure you didn’t reach the wrong conclusion when you first walked in today. I know how it looked, but Jay and I?—”
“Were fighting over a cookie. That was obvious,” she says. “Your position wouldn’t have been remotely comfortable if either of you had other ideas.”
I don’t expect her to concede that, and my eyebrows go up. “Thank you. I appreciate the benefit of the doubt.”
“Oh, you don’t have that from me because I doubt you’d have ended up in a fight for a cookie with anyone else on this board. Somehow, it was once again a handsome, connected young man.”
Everything inside me recoils at her use of the word “connected.” It’s a gross implication. “Jay and I are friends. Nothing more.”
Catherine sighs. “I know you don’t believe me, but it will give me great pleasure if you succeed.”
“But you don’t think I will.”
Her silence is loud.
Again, I push down my anger. “If you’re sincere in wanting me to succeed, I’d love for you to spell out your reservations about the plan I presented.”
She considers me, and I’m glad I haven’t shown any cracks in my composure, because I suspect it’s what tips her to tell me.
“I said it was about tone. Your plans don’t capture the spirit of what Serendipity Springs is. You’re missing the target.”
It feels like a criticism of my preparation. “I’ve read extensively on the history of Serendipity Springs, and I consume every new book and article I find about its past. I’m telling you with all sincerity that I’ve gone far beyond the minimum in learning about the city’s roots.”
“I’m aware of your academic strengths, Phoebe. I’ve seen you present to the Sutton board several times. But I know the city well enough to recognize that you’re missing something. I’m not even sure I could put a finger on it, to be honest.”
Is she kidding? I’m supposed to magically figure out what she can’t even explain?
“I love art,” she says.
What? What does that have to do with anything?
“But I’m only an adequate painter. If I had true talent, I’d spend all my time making art. But my gift is recognizing talent when I see it, so I spend my time elevating the art of others to help as many people as possible benefit from it.”
She nods to the screen showing my opening slide. “You gave us a presentation about facts. You presented a carefully considered and well-organized vision for the museum. But it’s not the soul. I disagree that it fulfills Foster’s vision.”
No one wants to hear that they’ve presented sterile facts without any soul, especially not me, someone who has led with my heart my entire life. It cuts deeply.
“If I can pin it down more, I will,” she says. “But that’s what the right director for this museum is supposed to do: see the thing I can’t explain. Find a way to make the museum a vital part of the community. That’s going to take more than being … how did you put it? Prestigious. Reputable.” She shakes her head. “Those were not Foster’s driving motivation.”
“But you’ll know it when you see it.” I keep the frustration at this unmeetable metric out of my voice.
She lifts her chin, unapologetic. “Yes.”
“I’ll take that under advisement.”
Her lips twitch as if she suspects what I want to say isI’d like to push you under a bus. I wouldnever… say that aloud.
“Good luck with the hiring,” she says. “You’ve identified some excellent candidates. I’ll look forward to confirming them at the next meeting.”
