“Done?” I said, confused.
Tania had come out as well. She threw her arms wide, echoing, “Done.”
“You’re finished?” I said. “The installation? All of it?”
“Done,” Jonah said. “With nine days to spare.”
Tania let out a laugh. “I need to hug someone—besides the boss, here—or I’ll burst.”
“Me,” I cried, breaking into a run. I hugged the hell out of Tania, then turned to fling my arms around Jonah’s neck.
“Holy shit,” he said. “It’s done.”
All at once, I didn’t like that word. All at once, the ground disappeared beneath my feet. Swamped with a thousand emotions, I held Jonah close, pulling him tight against me, strangely afraid to let go. Afraid of something I couldn’t name yet.
Done.
Finished.
I pulled away far enough to search his eyes. “Are you happy with it?”
“I think I’m still in shock. I’ve been at it for so long…” He blew out his cheeks and gave a wobbly smile. “Eme says she’ll send a truck around for the last pieces and all the stuff that will be for sale.”
“I can’t believe it.” I took his face and kissed him. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Thanks,” he said, yet his eyes seemed to mirror the foreign emotion clogging up my heart. His bewildered gaze held onto mine as he slowly shook his head. “It’s done…”
“Jonah,” Eme Takamura said, shaking my hand. “I’m so pleased to see you again.”
The curator of the Wynn Galleria was crisp and smart in a dark gray, pin-striped suit, impeccably tailored to her petite frame. She was business head to toe, but for a red silk hibiscus flower tucked behind her ear giving an artistic burst of color.
“This is so exciting,” she said as we walked through the lobby. Her voice was warm and slightly accented. “My team is in the space, awaiting your guidance to assemble your masterpiece. Your assistant faxed over the sketches and the diagram, and Wilson—he’s our team leader—tells me the specs are right on the money. A perfect fit.”
“That’s great. Really good news.”
“Are you well, Jonah?” she asked, glancing up at me. “You look a little pale.”
“I’m nervous as hell,” I said with a short laugh. “I want it to not suck.”
She laughed, a prim, delicate sound in the back of her throat. “Yes, I would prefer it not suck as well. But from the pieces I’ve seen—still in the boxes, mind you—I believe you’ve avoided that fate.”
“Speaking of nerves, heard anything more from Mr. Chihuly?”
“Unfortunately not. But to my mind, it means he’s still aiming to see the exhibit on opening night. I count no news as good news.”
“So do I.”
She led me to the gallery, a small, L-shaped space, explaining how my glass would be exhibited. The long wing would hold the individual pieces for sale, and the installation would be in the shorter wing.
Scaffolding had already gone up in the short wing, and a team of two men and a woman were carefully bringing in boxes from an adjoining storage room. Each box was marked with numbers and their generalized location in the installation.
Eme introduced me to Wilson, the team leader. I guessed he was in his fifties, a huge guy built like a barrel who looked like he’d break more glass than not.
He must’ve read my thoughts because he bellowed a laugh as he shook my hand, saying, “I’m on loan from a glass studio in Los Angeles. I know I look like a lumberjack but I won’t break nothing.”
“I trust you,” I said. Not that I had a choice. Nerves were firing off little tingles in my hands and feet, making them numb.
This is it. This is really happening.
“My assistant should be here any minute,” I said. “Let me give her a call to see where she’s at.”
“She’s here,” Tania cried, rushing in. “I’m so sorry. Accident on the boulevard. Bad one too. Snarled up everything.”
She was introduced to the team and then all eyes turned to me.
“Ready?” Tania said.
I took a huge breath. “Let’s do this.”
We called it quits around four o’clock. The other workers cleared out, and Tania and I both sank onto a bench, surveying the work so far.
“It’s going to be brilliant,” she said. “Look at that. Not even a third assembled and it’s already breathtaking. You did it.”
“We did it. This didn’t happen without you.”
I stared up at my glass, at the yellow coils and blue ribbons that had been wired together and suspended from the ceiling so far. “Do you think Kacey will love it?”
“Honey, Kacey’s going to lose her mind over it.” She laid an arm across my shoulders. “And if you don’t mind me saying, I’m so glad she’s here to share this with you. That you have her to share it with.”
“Me, too,” I said. All day, through the mental and physical intricacies of setting up the glass, my thoughts had never been far from Kacey. She was with me all the time. A hundred times I stopped work to look over my shoulder, sure she was there watching.