Author's note: Not beta'd. I apologize for any grammatical or spelling errors that I might not have caught.
Vanessa wasn't one for mornings but she found herself up almost two hours before her alarm clock was supposed to wake her for work. She was leaning against a small counter in her kitchenette watching the sun slowly rise as her tea steeped. Several months ago, Vanessa had become the new owner of the Scene Contempo Gallery in Soho after years of saving and building her reputation. In addition to being the owner, she was also one of the senior art dealers within the Gallery, reserving her time for the most promising of prospects. She tapped her short nails on the counter as she considered her schedule for the morning. Once the pot of orange pekoe was ready, or as ready the tired woman could stand to wait for her first dose of caffeine, she sat at the small dining table where she had left her notepad, pen, and a bottle of honey. After adding a few dollops of honey to her mug of tea, she began making notes for meetings she had scheduled for the morning.
Vanessa usually did this sort of preparation an hour or two before the meeting with an artist, sometimes with a particular buyer, but she had time now to do it since sleeping was obviously done for the day. She began outlining notes for her first meeting with a promising new painter at 11:00 that morning. After finishing her notes, and her third cup of tea, Vanessa showered and quickly walked to the subway to get to the Gallery. By the time her first meeting rolled around, she was tired but relieved. She had spent the morning double-checking her notes in between her many meetings about finances, organization of exhibits, and general management issues and was happy to be able to do more hands-on work.
She was sipping yet another cup of tea in her office when the phone rang. Vanessa picked it up, noting the flashing light was from her assistant's desk and said, "Yes, Josie?"
"Ms. Marianna, Mr. Peter Nicholas is here," the woman on the other end said. "Fantastic, send him in," Vanessa replied before hanging up.
The meeting with Mr. Nicholas went more smoothly and quickly than she had anticipated. After looking through his portfolio and discussing his work more in depth, Vanessa had given the potential client a short tour through the Gallery. During said tour Vanessa had shown him locations she thought would be ideal for his work to be displayed, which he took in quietly with only occasional nods and hums of approval. By the time they had gotten back to her office, Vanessa was a little nervous that she botched the deal. Her usual confidence had dissipated as the time she spent with the painter seemed to stretch on and the silence hung heavier around them by the minute. Peter Nicholas's quiet demeanor had left her a bit anxious.
Upon reaching Vanessa's office, Peter sat in one of the two plush chairs in the corner. Vanessa sat across from him and carefully placed his portfolio on the coffee table. He seemed deep in thought as he stared out a nearby window. She cleared her throat, "So Mr. Nicholas, a penny for your thoughts? You have been very quiet the duration of our meeting…"
"That's because I had made my decision before the tour even began, Ms. Marianna," Peter said, extending his hand towards her and giving her a soft smile. Vanessa hesitated before extending her hand as well, before retracting it. The artist's eyebrows rose in question and he lowered his hand to rest on his lap.
"You have no further questions? No changes you'd like to make before I draw up the contract?" Vanessa asked skeptically. "None," he said, "I have heard much about you and was half decided to work with you before we met."
"Oh?" she questioned, "And who exactly recommended me to handle such valuable work as yours?" Vanessa inquired. "Who's giving away my trade secrets?" she asked lightly. Mr. Nicholas's smiled and he extended his hand again, saying, "When do we start working on my first exhibit?"
It was now later in the afternoon and Vanessa was strolling through the handful of people admiring various pieces displayed at the Gallery. It was when she turned a corner that she spotted a large, bald man standing alone before one of their newest acquisitions. She wandered over, eyeing him curiously. Even as she stood beside him the man continued staring at the all-white painting silently. Vanessa looked at the painting and smiled, "There's this old children's joke, where you hold up a white piece of paper then you ask, 'What's this?' "
"A rabbit in a snowstorm," she said chuckling softly. When he didn't respond, she glanced at him then back at the painting, "Are you interested or just looking?"
"Interested," the hulking man answered tersely. Vanessa nodded, "People often ask me how we can charge so much for what amounts to just shades of white on canvas."
"I tell them it isn't about the name of the artist or the skill needed to make the piece. It isn't even about the art itself," she said. She paused for a moment, "All that really matters is how it makes you feel."
"It makes me feel alone," the man responded. She looked up at him, he was handsome but his face held a very solemn expression. They studied each other for a few moments before he turned back to the painting.
"Ms. Marianna," Vanessa turned after feeling a hand softly touch her left arm. She turned to see her assistant and raised her eyebrows in question. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but your mother would like to speak with you," Josie said. Vanessa briefly glanced at the man considering the painting then turned to face Josie and replied quietly, "Tell her I will call her back when I get home."
"She's actually here," Josie said in an equally low voice, "She's waiting in your office." Vanessa's eyes widened slightly, she nibbled her lip then nodded, "I will be there shortly." Josie gave a curt nod then retreated back to the office area. Vanessa turned back to the man and said, "I'm sorry to leave so abruptly but I do hope you enjoy the rest of your time here. It was nice meeting you, Mister…"
"Fisk, Wilson Fisk," he said looking down at her. Vanessa nodded, giving him a small smile, "Mr. Fisk." When Wilson continued to study her intently, she felt her face warm. She turned and quickly walked back to her office with butterflies in her stomach.
When Vanessa opened the door to her office, she saw Ellsabeth Marianna standing before the wall where her degrees and various awards were displayed. She closed the door behind her and walked sit behind her desk. When the older woman didn't react, Vanessa sighed, "Ellsabeth, what are you-"
"You know I was so disappointed in you when you insisted on pursuing your art nonsense as a career," the older woman interrupted, "but I must say you've done very well for yourself."
"Though not as well as you could've working with your mother-"
"Is there something you needed, Ellsabeth?" Vanessa said in an irritated tone, still refusing to call the woman before her 'mother.' Ellsabeth turned slightly and eyed the younger woman from her peripheral then strode over to the large desk and sat across from Vanessa. She crossed her legs and smoothed a hand over her linen pants, "Can't a mother visit her child?" she asked. "Maybe I wanted to take you to an early dinner, Nessa," she sniffed.
"You didn't," Vanessa said coolly, "So why are you here?"
With an equally frosty smile, Ellsabeth replied, "We'll discuss it over dinner."