Chapter 96: Dress Accordingly

Thursday arrived with none of the drama Giovanni’s planning had somehow made him expect.

He reached Alexander’s condominium early.

Naturally.

Rather than wait in the lobby as he had before the reunion, he stayed by the car and checked the time twice, even though he already knew he was twelve minutes early.

The lobby doors opened.

Giovanni looked up.

Then forgot about the time.

Alexander hadn’t worn a suit.

He’d apparently taken Giovanni’s vague instructions seriously enough to choose dark tailored trousers and a soft charcoal shirt beneath a lightweight jacket. The collar was open, making the outfit considerably more relaxed than anything he wore to corporate functions, yet polished enough that Giovanni felt briefly relieved he’d chosen a dark jacket himself.

Alexander approached the car.

His gaze traveled over Giovanni.

"Apparently we interpreted dress appropriately the same way."

Giovanni looked down at himself.

"Is that a complaint?"

"No. I’m relieved one of us won’t look like the other’s driver."

"You could still drive."

"You invited me."

"Convenient principle."

Alexander stopped beside him.

"Are you finally telling me where we’re going?"

"No."

"Is it legal?"

"Yes."

"Expensive?"

"That’s subjective."

"Giovanni."

"Get in."

Alex laughed.

That alone made the ridiculous search worthwhile.

Traffic was mercifully light.

They arrived at Bellavista with several minutes to spare, and the event banner outside finally answered Alexander’s question.

He read it.

Then looked at Giovanni.

"A sculpture exhibition?"

"You said you might sculpt again."

Something in Alex’s expression changed.

"You remembered."

"You said it three days ago."

"That doesn’t necessarily mean you’d organize dinner around it."

"I didn’t organize the exhibition."

"Thank you for clarifying. I was about to be extremely impressed."

Giovanni gave him a look.

They registered in the lobby.

An attendant offered each of them a welcome drink.

Alexander accepted his.

Giovanni reached for another.

Alex looked at him.

That was all.

Just looked.

Giovanni’s hand changed direction toward the sparkling water beside it.

The attendant politely pretended not to notice.

Alexander took a sip.

"Good decision."

"I could’ve had one."

"You’re driving."

"One drink."

"You gave me an entire lecture at the reunion."

"And apparently created a monster."

"You created consistency."

"Worse."

After the ribbon cutting and opening remarks, guests dispersed throughout the gallery.

Giovanni and Alexander moved clockwise almost by accident.

The first few pieces were bronze.

Alexander studied them carefully but said little.

Then they reached Second Spring.

The salvaged timber stood taller than either of them. Serrano had carved sweeping forms through the damaged wood while deliberately preserving a long crack running nearly its entire length.

Alexander moved closer.

Giovanni watched him rather than the sculpture.

"He didn’t hide the damage," Alex said.

"No."

"He incorporated it."

The description confirmed as much.

The artist had considered the crack part of the timber’s history, not a flaw to be removed.

Alex walked around the piece.

"I like that."

"Enough to buy it?"

"No."

"That was fast."

"I can appreciate something without wanting to own it."

"Very mature."

"I’ve developed."

They continued.

Inheritance held Alexander longer.

The original wooden newel post still bore the marks of whoever had carved it generations earlier. Serrano had preserved the old floral pattern, then extended it through bronze into a completely different form.

Alex crouched slightly to examine where the materials joined.

"This is closer."

"To what?"

"What I was imagining."

"Restoration?"

"Not exactly."

He stood.

"Preservation without pretending something is still what it used to be."

Giovanni looked at the sculpture again.

That description seemed to apply to considerably more than wood.

He decided not to say so.

"What would you do differently?"

Alex immediately pointed.

"That transition."

Giovanni smiled.

"What?"

"You already have criticism."

"Observation."

"You’ve been here twenty minutes."

"Does expertise have a minimum viewing period?"

"There he is."

"Who?"

"CEO Vance."

Alex nudged his arm.

"Shut up."

They eventually encountered Leandro Serrano himself.

He was older than Giovanni expected, silver-haired and remarkably relaxed for a man surrounded by people analyzing objects he’d spent months creating.

Alexander complimented Inheritance.

Serrano smiled.

"Most people tell me whether they find it beautiful."

"I was wondering how you stabilized the original wood before attaching the bronze."

That earned a different look.

"You work with wood?"

"I used to sculpt."

"Used to?"

"Life got busy."

Serrano nodded as though he’d heard that answer many times.

"Life does that."

Alexander glanced at the sculpture.

"I’ve been thinking about starting again."

"Then start."

Alex smiled.

"That simple?"

"No. But the first part is."

They spoke briefly about restoration and the difference between repairing something and erasing its history.

Before moving on, Serrano told Alex about several studios and workshops that welcomed experienced hobbyists who wanted to return to the craft without committing to professional practice.

Giovanni mentally noted the names.

Alexander noticed.

"Don’t."

"I didn’t do anything."

"You had that look."

"What look?"

"The one before spreadsheets happen."

Giovanni laughed.

They completed the exhibition without buying anything.

Near the final room, Giovanni asked the question he’d been saving.

"Anything call to you?"

Alexander looked back through the gallery.

"Not enough to buy."

"Disappointed?"

"No."

He thought about it.

"Actually, the opposite."

"How?"

"I kept looking at them and thinking about what I would’ve done differently."

Giovanni smiled.

"That’s probably your answer."

"To what?"

"Whether you still want to sculpt."

Alex glanced toward him.

Perhaps it was.

He hadn’t touched proper carving tools in years, but standing among finished pieces had awakened something unexpectedly familiar.

Not competition.

Not even ambition.

The urge to make something.

"I think I still have the talent."

"I know."

Alexander sighed.

"There you go again."

"What?"

"Knowing things."

"Occupational hazard."

"No, yours is construction."

"Same principle."

An attendant announced that dinner seating had begun in the conservatory.

Alexander looked toward the doors.

"Dinner too?"

"Yes."

"You planned an entire evening."

"Don’t sound frightened."

"I’m deciding whether I should be."

They followed the other guests.

Then Alexander stopped.

"Wait."

"What?"

"Dinner here?"

"Yes."

"What are we eating?"

Giovanni opened the door for him.

"Steak."

Alex narrowed his eyes.

"Raisins?"

"No."

"Peanuts?"

"Absolutely not."

That finally earned Giovanni the smile he’d been hoping for.

"Well," Alex said as he walked past him, "maybe I can trust you after all."

Giovanni followed.

He didn’t tell Alex that he’d specifically written no raisins on the reservation.

Some efforts were better left undiscovered.