Gilt by Jamie Brenner

Author:Jamie Brenner [Brenner, Jamie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2022-06-21T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

Alvie insisted on celebrating Gemma’s interview and her own last day at Queen Anne’s Revenge. They were going to Tea Dance at the Boatslip, a sort of dance-party happy hour. It seemed like a great idea last night when Alvie suggested it, but after talking with the reporter for hours, Gemma wasn’t in the mood.

Still, she dutifully met Alvie at Maud’s old Victorian with the pink shutters. On the way, she stopped at the post office to mail that day’s jewelry orders. Sealing up the Priority Mail boxes, she didn’t feel the usual sense of satisfaction.

She thought she handled the reporter’s questions just fine. At least, on the outside. But the conversation was eating at her, hours after they shook hands and said goodbye.

Pavlin & Co is a century-old company. It’s an institution. You have no interest in designing for them?

She couldn’t delude herself that she was anywhere close to disrupting the conventional jewelry business—nowhere near competing with Pavlin & Co. She’d been living in a fantasy world. What had she expected? That she’d graduate from college and some billionaire would throw money at her? That they’d look at her Instagram and anoint her the second coming of Elsa Peretti? Even winning the NYSD award—the small, attainable goal she’d set for herself along the way—wasn’t a game-changer. Instead of focusing on what she was doing, the reporter seemed more interested in what she wasn’t doing. And wouldn’t anyone who read the article feel the same?

The redbrick path to the house was lined with flowering bushes. While most of the homes on Commercial had neatly trimmed hydrangea bushes, the front garden of Maud’s pink-shuttered Victorian was a maze of tall grass, marigolds, purple zinnias, sunflowers, and ferns. The house itself was marked with a metal plaque—one of dozens around town—designating the building as having once been the home of a notable artist.

Alvie sat on the front porch, nestled in a cushioned wicker chair with an open bottle of wine on a side table.

“Hey,” Gemma said, sitting on a swinging bench across from her. “I thought you said we needed to be there by five to get a spot.”

“We do,” Alvie said. “This is just pre-gaming. No one shows up at the Boatslip sober.”

Gemma accepted the glass Alvie poured for her. It was a pale white, fruity but not sweet. It went down easy and she had to force herself not to drink it too quickly. She hadn’t eaten in several hours and in her frame of mind she’d be on the fast track to wasted.

She glanced at the front door, wondering if Sanjay was inside. He’d texted her earlier, asking how the interview went. She’d written back, Fine. She’d managed to work in a mention of him when the reporter asked about her success on Instagram. “Photography is instrumental to my business,” she’d said, and told the story of how she and Sanjay began working together to launch her brand.

“Maud should be down any minute and then we can head over,” Alvie said.

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