Chapter Seven
Isabel was nervous but excited. Her big night had at long
last arrived. She’d managed to orchestrate this show highlighting an array of
graduate students’ work, while speaking to a unified theme about preserving
nature in the environment. The installations here were awe-inspiring and
innovative, and Isabel was pleased she’d played a part in pulling the disparate—yet
interesting—displays together. She hadn’t had much time to survey
students in the department and canvass entries relating to her chosen topic.
But it had all come together for her somehow. And the flash of inspiration had
left her breathless at its outcome.
“Fabulous work,” her favorite instructor told her. “Inspiring.”
Isabel beamed from ear to ear as appreciative arts patrons
flooded the main gallery. “Thanks for giving me this chance.”
“There’s no one who deserves it more than you,” Elizabeth
said. “You have promise, Isabel, and a keen eye. Not just as an artist but as a
curator too.”
Isabel hoped that was true. While she wanted to pursue her
own art, she also understood she’d need to put bread on the table. Curatorial
practices was not a bad field, and one to which she was establishing entrees from
the likes of Elizabeth and several of her contacts, to whom Elizabeth had been
kind enough to introduce her.
“Oh look!” she told her teacher. “There are my parents.”
“Why don’t you go on over and say hello?” Elizabeth urged.
Isabel carried her glass of Chablis in their direction,
feeling every bit the sophisticate that she’d aspired to be. Imagine! Her own
opening! And at a well-known gallery besides. Just because it held a university
affiliation didn’t make it any less important. Competition in the arts was keen
these days, and Isabel knew it. She was just so very grateful to have been
given this opportunity to make some meager inroads.
“Mom, Dad,” she said, crossing to them with an open-armed
hug. “Thanks so much for coming.”
“We wouldn’t have missed it,” her dad said.
Her mom smiled fondly. “We’re so proud of you, Isabel.”
Kip nodded. “Yes. We are.”
“Come on and let me get you both a glass of wine. Then I’ll
show you around.”
Kip laid another small sandwich on his plate and surreptitiously
surveyed the art before him. There sure seemed to be a lot of nudies here. Then
again, that had been passing for art since the old days. He chomped on the tiny
triangle and wrinkled his nose. Why did this taste like he’d just sampled a
salad with ranch dressing?
Trudy, who walked ahead, her armed linked in Isabel’s,
smiled over her shoulder. “I’m proud of you, Kip. Going for the whole-wheat
veggie sandwiches. Very sound.”
Kip stared down at the offending crudité in horror. No
wonder it was so terrible. It was good for him! He quickly scanned the room,
then slid his sandwich remains onto a passing tray, which carted off dirty
dishes. Isabel shared a laugh with her mom, then glanced back at him.
“Finished already? That’s great, Dad. Why don’t you go and
get some more?”
Yeah, maybe he’d do that. He’d spied some meatballs in the
buffet that looked a lot more his speed.
“And load up on the meatballs!” Isabel chirped as if reading
his mind. “They’re vegan!”
Kip stopped halfway to the buffet table and grunted. He knew
they should have stopped to eat before coming here, but Trudy had protested
there’d be plenty of food. Like any of this healthy stuff counted. The line
ahead of him moved along, and Kip spotted something intriguing. To his delight,
it was a vat of miniature hotdogs drenched in what smelled like a delicious
bourbon sauce. “Those aren’t tofu?” he asked the caterer, who was resetting the
tea lights beneath the various pans.
“One hundred percent all beef.”
Kip sighed with relief and piled his plate high, thinking if
this was what it took to get through the night without his stomach
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