I can understand that frustration.”
No, you can't. “I'd politely disagree with this person,” Noah continued. He straightened up despite the mist of rain that blew into his face. His speech was precise and crisp now. He'd practiced the non-accent to be taken seriously in his grad school classes. “Awards can be shown anytime, and they have been for years. I want to do something new.”
“Well...” Jason drawled. He sounded like he wanted to agree. “I know, but there's some resistance to change. If you can appease them on the board, I'm sure I could try to have a chat with them.”
Noah wracked his brain. “Why do they want the awards? Because of the local connection?”
“Yeah, they're all for local players.”
Noah pressed a crosswalk button, gazing ahead to his art gallery. “Um, how about something custom? I already have two commissioned pieces, but I could possibly add more. I have enough room in my budget for a few more works.”
“A contingency fund. Well done. I think that might do it. Email me with specifics and I can approach the people who make decisions over here,” Jason promised. “No guarantees, but I'll do my best.”
What about some original drawings or paintings? I have the painted pucks and the steel sculpture, but not traditional pieces yet... Noah was already thinking about local artists. “I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks, Jason.”
“Thanks. Talk to you later.”
Noah shoved his phone back into his pocket. Fuck, this town was sometimes so resistant to anything new. People wanted to be recognized, and saw anything new as an attack on them. It wasn't like he was demanding the awards be taken down. He'd planned carefully to work the artwork around them.
Time to check in on my commissions. He unlocked the side door with his pass card and shook off his coat like a dog as he walked into the building. The unpleasant day had ruined his hair and dampened his trousers already. He was going to have to sit in front of the heater in his office for a while as he made these calls.
While his computer booted up, Noah leaned back in his chair and wheeled closer to the heater, the phone against his ear ringing.
“Hello?” the gruff voice on the other end answered.
“Hey, Jackson, it's Noah. Just wondering how things are coming along.”
“I'll be ready in good time, don't worry. I built in a week of wiggle room, just in case.”
Noah loved Jackson. “Oh, God. Thank you,” he groaned.
Jackson laughed. “That bad, huh?”
“Oh, you don't want to know. Things are changing on me,” Noah admitted. “But don't worry – there will be room for everything, especially your piece and the other commission. I'll arrange the loans around that.”
“Good,” Jackson approved. “Good on you for doing all this. It's not easy to get people to agree to new things around here.”
“I enjoy it,” Noah fibbed. He did , just not this particular second. “And it'll be great.”
“I know it will. I should get back to it, then. I'm about ready to have you come by and check on it... maybe this weekend?”
“That'll be great,” Noah agreed, settling on a date and time. “Thanks a bunch, Jackson.”
“Thank you,” Jackson answered, polite as always. “See you.”
At least someone around here kept his promises. Well, two someones... Cameron hadn't stood him up last night. And that had been an incredible date. Noah smiled to himself until he realized his name was being repeated from the doorway.
***
Noah was about ready to call it quits that day when another light knock sounded on his office door. He'd had to lead Sarah's guided tours since she was off sick that day. Then, a coworker and his boss had both checked in about that damn hockey exhibition. He'd assured them both it was all under control. Then, he'd gotten in touch with local artists about painting and sketch commissions.
And now it was the manager of the restaurant just down the street. Jay was a sweetie, about
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