Madelyn Sheffield for this job.”
I stared at him, trying to decide how to answer. I opted for the truth. “To be honest, I have. I don’t know how you know her, but what I’ve seen of her work is, uh, nice, but not at all in this league.” Mediocre, trite, silly—there were a lot of adjectives I could have picked, but I was trying to be polite. “And if we’re putting all our cards on the table, I’ve also wondered just why I’m here.”
He twirled the bottle between his hands. “You’re an intelligent woman, and I figured you would have questions. I thought it would be simpler if I just explained up front, and you can decide whether you want to work with me. With the collection.”
“Thank you, I think. I’m listening.”
“Your assessment of Maddy’s talents is accurate. To put it kindly, I think she’s reached her full potential running a small shop in a tourist mecca. She makes a modest living.”
“Okay,” I said dubiously. Did he lump me in the same category?
Again, he read my mind. “She can’t hold a candle to you. You’re serious about your work, and you’re turning out some interesting pieces. Along with the commercial ones. I know—you’ve got to make a living.”
Was he going to offer to be my patron? Play Medici? This was becoming bizarre. “You were going to explain what Maddy is doing here.”
He sighed. “Maddy is the daughter of my mother’s college roommate. They were close then, and they stayed close, and I guess you could say that my mother has had a huge advantage in terms of bragging rights. She feels bad about that, from time to time, so when I started talking about installing this collection, she remembered little Madelyn, and she decided she could make up for a lot by involving her. God help me, I agreed to go along. I’d met Maddy occasionally over the years, but she didn’t leave any lasting impression. When I met her again after my mother had cooked up this little scheme, I was less than thrilled, but I’d already agreed, and my mother wasn’t about to let me off the hook. And Maddy was so pleased, I didn’t have the heart to tell her I wanted to back out.”
I was beginning to see a glimmer of logic here. “So that’s where I come in? I’m supposed to provide the expertise or whatever that Maddy lacks?”
“That’s what I hoped. If you’re willing. When I realized that I was stuck with Maddy, I started looking for someone to back her up, and your name came up a couple of times. I saw some of your work, and I liked what I saw. Look, I know that installing the collection isn’t exactly rocket science, and I’m taking care of all the structural considerations, but I’ve asked Maddy to work out placement, coordinating other lights in each room, that kind of thing. I’m sorry if I insulted you, but the only way I could think of to bring you in was to think up some portion of the project that I knew Maddy couldn’t handle—the hot-glass work.”
“Were you serious about that, or was it only a cover story?” I didn’t know if I felt relieved or disappointed.
“I’m serious. It’s not a major commission, because I want to keep things focused on the panels, not tarted up with a lot of unnecessary accessories, but I envision harmonizing the interior lighting with the main panels. I want it to be unobtrusive but complementary. I have the awful feeling that Maddy would want to churn out mock Tiffany shades with themes to match the artwork.” He gave a theatrical shudder, then looked directly at me. “What are you thinking?”
I took a second to figure out exactly what I did think. “For a start, I’m glad you told me. This whole thing didn’t make a lot of sense to me. Maddy was not a logical choice for this kind of project, and she doesn’t like me much, so bringing me in made the whole package even stranger. Now I can understand it, and thanks for laying it out. Did you tell Maddy I came with the package?”
“Let’s say I suggested it
I stared at him, trying to decide how to answer. I opted for the truth. “To be honest, I have. I don’t know how you know her, but what I’ve seen of her work is, uh, nice, but not at all in this league.” Mediocre, trite, silly—there were a lot of adjectives I could have picked, but I was trying to be polite. “And if we’re putting all our cards on the table, I’ve also wondered just why I’m here.”
He twirled the bottle between his hands. “You’re an intelligent woman, and I figured you would have questions. I thought it would be simpler if I just explained up front, and you can decide whether you want to work with me. With the collection.”
“Thank you, I think. I’m listening.”
“Your assessment of Maddy’s talents is accurate. To put it kindly, I think she’s reached her full potential running a small shop in a tourist mecca. She makes a modest living.”
“Okay,” I said dubiously. Did he lump me in the same category?
Again, he read my mind. “She can’t hold a candle to you. You’re serious about your work, and you’re turning out some interesting pieces. Along with the commercial ones. I know—you’ve got to make a living.”
Was he going to offer to be my patron? Play Medici? This was becoming bizarre. “You were going to explain what Maddy is doing here.”
He sighed. “Maddy is the daughter of my mother’s college roommate. They were close then, and they stayed close, and I guess you could say that my mother has had a huge advantage in terms of bragging rights. She feels bad about that, from time to time, so when I started talking about installing this collection, she remembered little Madelyn, and she decided she could make up for a lot by involving her. God help me, I agreed to go along. I’d met Maddy occasionally over the years, but she didn’t leave any lasting impression. When I met her again after my mother had cooked up this little scheme, I was less than thrilled, but I’d already agreed, and my mother wasn’t about to let me off the hook. And Maddy was so pleased, I didn’t have the heart to tell her I wanted to back out.”
I was beginning to see a glimmer of logic here. “So that’s where I come in? I’m supposed to provide the expertise or whatever that Maddy lacks?”
“That’s what I hoped. If you’re willing. When I realized that I was stuck with Maddy, I started looking for someone to back her up, and your name came up a couple of times. I saw some of your work, and I liked what I saw. Look, I know that installing the collection isn’t exactly rocket science, and I’m taking care of all the structural considerations, but I’ve asked Maddy to work out placement, coordinating other lights in each room, that kind of thing. I’m sorry if I insulted you, but the only way I could think of to bring you in was to think up some portion of the project that I knew Maddy couldn’t handle—the hot-glass work.”
“Were you serious about that, or was it only a cover story?” I didn’t know if I felt relieved or disappointed.
“I’m serious. It’s not a major commission, because I want to keep things focused on the panels, not tarted up with a lot of unnecessary accessories, but I envision harmonizing the interior lighting with the main panels. I want it to be unobtrusive but complementary. I have the awful feeling that Maddy would want to churn out mock Tiffany shades with themes to match the artwork.” He gave a theatrical shudder, then looked directly at me. “What are you thinking?”
I took a second to figure out exactly what I did think. “For a start, I’m glad you told me. This whole thing didn’t make a lot of sense to me. Maddy was not a logical choice for this kind of project, and she doesn’t like me much, so bringing me in made the whole package even stranger. Now I can understand it, and thanks for laying it out. Did you tell Maddy I came with the package?”
“Let’s say I suggested it
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