Exception (26 page)

As the room started filling up, Taylor did as promised and glued Emily to his side. At all times one of his hands touched either the small of her back, her shoulders or hands, giving every greedy pair of ogling eyes clear indication that she was off-limits, and succeeding in making her feel extremely protected.

Within the first hour of the event Marina joined Emily and Taylor, begging them to save her from “Dragon Lady” as she was now calling Kimberly. For over two hours the three of them walked the gallery, stopping to talk with numerous people, including journalists, bloggers, collectors, interior designers, and countless friends of both Taylor and Marina.

They were standing next to the shot of Peter and the penguin as a reporter approached Taylor and Marina for a quick interview. Still clutching Taylor’s hand, Emily turned her attention to the photograph and admired it once again. This time she paid more attention to the technical details Taylor had explained to her. At first, she thought that looking for them might deflect from the emotional beauty of the image, but it was quite the opposite.

For the second time that evening, a voice called her attention back from the picture. “Is this your favorite, miss?”

Emily turned her head to the side and saw the thin and balding older man that had spoken to her. He wore caramel slacks, a plaid bow tie over a white buttoned down shirt, and a navy blazer. There was a grandpa quality to him that made Emily like him instantly. “Yes, sir, it is. Do you like it?”

“I do, very much,” the man said in his raspy, friendly voice. “Technically it’s not the best in this group, though it’s good enough. But there’s just something about it that catches your eye, don’t you think?”

Emily smiled at him before answering. “I know very little about the technical aspects, but I like the emotion of it very much.”

He opened a big, kind smile at her. “I believe that’s how we know when a piece of art is any good; when even untrained eyes can see its beauty. Some scholars disagree—they say that the value of art is measured by technique, but to me, that’s a bunch of nonsense. I believe that art is like a woman.”

Emily looked at him with questioning eyes, not understanding where he was going, but completely fascinated by his reasoning.

Noticing her interest, he continued. “Any pair of eyes can see a beautiful woman, like yourself, from miles away. And while my eyes look at you and see that little scar on your nose as a part of what makes you beautiful and unique, a dermatologist might look at you and see it as a flaw, judging you less pretty by that,” he said pointing to the small scar on the bridge of her nose, which Emily instinctively touched. With a smile, he continued, “Now, I ask you, what is the real source of beauty—the lack of flaws that make you perfect, or the little imperfections that make you singular? Would you be any more beautiful if it wasn’t for that small scar? Who’s right, me or the dermatologist?”

“I would say that the source of beauty is the little flaws, but my modesty doesn’t allow me to answer your other question,” she joked.

The man let out a deep laugh that touched her heart and made her laugh along with him. “Well my dear, then allow me to answer for you. There’s absolutely no way you could ever be lovelier than you are.” His smile nearly touched his ears. Extending a hand to her, he continued, “And my manners have failed me, let me introduce myself. My name is Stanley, but please, call me Stan.”

Emily took Stanley’s hand and shook politely, her shoulders stiffening for the hundredth time that night. “I’m Emily. And it’s very nice to meet you, Stan.”

“The pleasure is all mine, dear.”

She asked him about how he came to know so much about photography, and he informed her that he was a photographer and an art historian turned writer. The discovery of his writing endeavors prompted a long conversation about his book on the evolution of photography as an art form. The way he explained his thoughts and views on photography were fascinating, which made him by far the most intriguing person Emily met that night.

The two were deep in conversation when Taylor and Marina joined them. Emily could see that they eyed the older man with a mixture of shock and admiration. “Tay, Rina, this is my new friend, Stanley,” Emily introduced, in her sweet and friendly voice. “Stan, these are my friends, Taylor, and the very talented Marina.”

Stan extended his hand to greet the two newcomers and saluted them warmly. It was funny to see Marina, who seemed to be so outspoken, stutter a little when greeting the old man. Taylor held his own, but refused to call the man by his nickname, calling him Mr. Parker every time he spoke to him. Emily found the whole interaction very weird.

In the short conversation that followed, Stan complimented Marina on her pictures and told Taylor he would like to schedule an appointment to discuss the use of the gallery for the launch of his new book and a showing of some of his work. Taylor didn’t hesitate in agreeing and fished a business card out of his pocket, pressing it into the man’s wrinkled hand.

“Our timeframe is still nearly a year away, but I like to be prepared,” he informed gleefully. “I believe I’ll have better information by Monday, and then I’ll call you to arrange everything.” Stan offered Taylor his card and widened his smile. “I have two demands I would like to make clear, even before our meeting.”

Taylor nodded in a very polite way and waited for the man to speak. “The first is that you stop calling me sir and Mr. Parker. It makes me feel even more decrepit than I already am, and it’s depressing.” He smirked at Taylor, before turning his adoring eyes and a wide smile to Emily. “The second, and most important, is that if everything works out and we come to work together, you’ll bring this fantastic young woman to talk to me again.”

Emily’s exhibited a wide smile as Taylor turned his attention to her with an expression that resembled worship. “You have my word on both, Stan.”

“Good. Now it’s time I return to my bedpan,” he joked, making the three of them laugh. “My dear Emily, thank you for entertaining me this lovely evening. Now, if I might be so bold, would you allow me to take your portrait one of these days? It would be an honor, and perhaps I could even photograph the two you, such a lovely couple.”

Emily smiled at him and nodded before answering again. “I’d like that very much Stan. I’ll talk to Tay and you boys can work it out, how about that?”

“Fantastic,” he said beaming with joy. “Marina, congratulations on the show, you’re very talented. I’ll talk to you soon Taylor.” He nodded his balding, shiny head and gave Emily one last smile. “Goodbye, dear.”

The three of them watched Stan make his way towards the door, stopping on his way to shake a few hands and pose for a few photographs. As soon as he was out of the door both Taylor and Marina turned to stare at Emily.

“You better fucking kiss her Tay, or I will.” At those words Emily turned her eyes to Marina with such a shocked expression that it made Marina laugh. “Sweet, gorgeous and a fucking magnet to our hero. I’m telling you Carter, this girl is a keeper.”

Emily turned her face back to Taylor, who was completely ignoring his friend while watching her with unblinking eyes, and a ghost of a smile on his lips. She looked at him with questioning eyes, having no idea what the fuss was all about. The second after Marina turned around and walked away, he wrapped her in his arms, pulling her in for another tight hug.

“What the heck is going on, Tay?” she asked against his chest.

“The heck is that you’re amazing,” he said, pushing his body back a little to look at her face. “You’ve charmed the pants off of Stanley Parker and you got him to ask to take your portrait. Do you even know who he is?” Emily shook her head and raised her shoulders, making him laugh and kiss her head. “Okay, putting what just happened in terms you’ll understand, you just met J.K. Rowling and she asked to write a book about you.”

His explanation finally made Emily understand the importance of what had just happened. Her eyes opened wide and the corners of her lips curled in a shy smile. “Oh, wow.”

“Exactly. Stanley Parker is the person who changed the way the world views photography. And you just got him to want to show his work here.” He shook his head again, the dumbstruck smile still on his face.

She looked back at him with a giddy grin of her own on her lips. “So, I helped you?”

Taylor’s laugh was like music to Emily’s ears. It was amazing to her how happy she could be, just hearing him do that. “Oh Ems, you help me just by breathing, but tonight you helped beyond words.”

Locked in their little bubble, they held each other’s eyes until duty called and Taylor towed her to meet yet more people. His instructions to charm the hell out of the other guests made both of them laugh once more.

For the next few hours, Taylor and Emily worked the room. With his impressive natural charisma, Taylor did his job to perfection, talking to the guests and offering information and explanations about the pictures. He offered heartfelt complements to the women and made jokes with the men. Emily’s shy charm, intelligence and wit made the perfect date for him. Taylor watched with amazed eyes as guest after guest met the same fate as Stanley Parker. The most incredible thing, however, was the fact that Emily seemed completely unaware of the effect she had on people. Every time he got to introduce her to someone new, his pride at having her as his date grew to new heights.

Something else he noted was how she would square her delicate shoulders and steel her arms whenever she offered her hand to someone. Despite her ever-present smile, he could see a flash of tension and fear quickly pass through her eyes when she clenched her jaw and extended her hand. Taylor found himself wondering how tiresome it must be to spend your life anxiety-stricken around people, and his mind drifted back to the conversation they’d had in the car, and to the infinite possibilities of what the mishaps might have been to make her this scared.

Although he didn’t know who or what traumatized her so much, he felt a deep hatred towards it and them, which made him tighten the hold he had on her every time she shook someone’s hand. He was determined to never let anything or anyone hurt her, ever again.

His actions didn’t go by unnoticed. Every time she felt his fingers digging a bit deeper on her skin, she felt a wave of relaxation and gratitude at having him with her pass through her body.

Some of the women with whom she spoke were avid followers of the blog and recognized her right away. Talking to them was an added bonus. In the many years she’d worked for the blog, she had very few chances to hear reader feedback. She asked their opinions on the page and the books she wrote about and even got a few suggestions, which she took notes of when no one was watching.

In every way possible, the night was fantastic. She’d met great people, got some awesome ideas for her page and had a lot of fun—but, most importantly, she’d enjoyed Taylor’s company like she hadn’t enjoyed anyone else’s in a long time. It was incredible how good they were together, and even more incredible was his ability to make her forget, even for a short few moments, all of her angst.

It was way past midnight and most of the guests were already gone. Emily and Taylor were sitting on one of the high tables, talking and finally enjoying some of the delicious finger food the caterers saved for them, when a high profile interior designer approached Taylor. The man was all business. He talked briskly and wasted no time on small talk, listing images he wanted to purchase for a high-end restaurant he was remodeling.

While the man talked, Emily made small talk with the man’s wife. With the exception of their age, which appeared to be the same, Judith and her husband couldn’t be more different. Where he was tall and slim, she was short and chubby, and where he was dry like a desert, she was sweet as honey. It didn’t take long for the two women to become completely engrossed in their conversation.

Within few minutes, Taylor told Emily he needed to check something in the computer with Judith’s husband, and asked if she would like to join him. With her feet in knots and the room very close to empty, she told him she would be okay sitting there and talking to the woman until he returned.

After some good and typical female conversation, Emily asked some polite questions concerning her husband’s business, and in return received a detailed list of establishments and celebrity homes he’d remodeled over the years. Judith told her how they met over twenty years ago, when she was the secretary of one of his early clients, and how they had fallen madly in love and gotten married in less than six months.

Judith complimented her and Taylor on being such a lovely couple, and asked how they’d met. A little embarrassed to be put in the spotlight, Emily shared the edited version of how they met at a coffee cart, but failed to mention how long had it been, or the fact that they were only friends. The woman quickly sidetracked to questions about Emily’s line of work and what she was doing at Yale.

“I work with literature, and one of my closest friends is a professor there. I have a focus group and a book club with some of his students,” Emily said with a broad smile.

“Oh dear, you don’t say,” the woman said enthusiastically. “Our daughter, Alana, is quite a bookworm herself. She got her degree in English and Literature last year from Brown.”

“That’s wonderful.” Young people who loved literature were always something that excited Emily. “And is she working, or has she decided to pursue an academic career?”

Judith’s face beamed with that typical mother’s pride Emily knew nothing about. “She just completed her first novel, which is quite excellent, if I may say so myself.”