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doing, even if you did it in a court of law. Having enough money to buy the outcome you want doesn t
make it right.
His smile was indulgent and Emily, who considered herself a non-violent woman, was tempted to
smack it off his face. I like your spirit, Ms. Harris, but that doesn t change that you re standing
between me and something I want. If I were you, I d put together a counterproposal you can live with.
I ll give you my email. You can send it to me personally, and I ll make sure it s at least considered.
She leaned toward him and threatened, I may not have money, but I care about this museum, and
other people will, too. I won t be sending you a counteroffer, because I m not selling.
A corner of his mouth curled in a way that sent waves of heat through Emily. I always get what I
want, Ms. Harris.
Emily stepped back. Not this time. She walked out and closed the door firmly behind her, taking
a brief moment to lean against it for support before pushing off. She defiantly moved her wayward
curl off her face and held her head high as she walked past the desk of Asher Barrington s snooty
assistant.
Chapter Two
I can t believe I thought he d care. What a pompous jackass. I always get what I want. Well, not
this time, buddy. My mother didn t let anything stop her from following her dreams, and I won t
let someone like you stop me from building a tribute to her. As she drove out of Boston and into one
of the surrounding suburbs, she rehashed her heated meeting with Mr. I ll make sure it s at least
considered Barrington again and again. Jerk.
I should have kept my cool. I should have spoken more about my mother and the reason the
museum needs to be where I m building it.
Not that he probably would have cared. Bastard.
I was hoping to do this the easy way, but it looks like I have to go with plan B.
Obstacles are opportunities if you re brave enough to take them on. That was what her mother
had always said. Emily refused to give up. Determination was in her genes just as surely as art was.
Her mother, Wendy Harris, had lived a life that had inspired everyone who knew her. Born blind,
she hadn t let that stop her from becoming an artist, a painter at that. Her works were uniquely tactile.
She d pushed the limits of what was considered a painting and had developed a technique that
brought a three-dimensional element to her artwork.
Emily s own appreciation for art had been acquired at her mother s knee. They d spent countless
afternoons in museums. Her mother would ask Emily to describe a painting, first with what she saw,
but then with greater detail about how the painting made her feel. Eventually Emily began to use clay
to make the paintings her mother loved even more accessible to her.
Her mother had dreamed of creating a museum where people could run their hands over every
piece of artwork displayed. A place where those who could not see were not banned from
experiencing masterpieces. Nothing would stop Emily from making that museum a reality.
Determination made it possible for Emily to consider the unthinkable. Plan B was bold and more
than a little underhanded. To some degree she felt like a snitch, but she steeled herself against her
doubts. She was desperate.
She hit redial on her phone. A woman answered. Mrs. Barrington?
Emily? Do call me Sophie. Mrs. Barrington sounds like I m one hundred years old. Sophie s
next comment was directed to her husband, Dale. It s the woman from New Hampshire who is
building a museum. She paused as if listening to a response from her husband before saying, Did
you make it to Boston?
I did. I m actually driving back to my hotel in Newton.
That s only a town over from us.
I know. What a coincidence, Emily said instead.
My husband and I are just about to have lunch. If you have time, we d love to meet you in person.
You could tell us all about your meeting with our son.
That sounds wonderful, Emily said with just the right amount of pleased surprise.
Emily pulled into a highway rest area and typed the address into her GPS. She told Sophie she d
be there in less than an hour. After hanging up, she stayed in her car, taking deep breaths and telling
herself she was doing the right thing.
When her nerves had settled somewhat, she called her best friend for support. It rang through to
voice mail the first time, but Emily called back. Come on, Celeste. Pick up.
When Celeste finally answered, she said, I m in a meeting with a client. Can we talk later?
This is an emergency.
I need to take this call. Tim, could you take over for a minute? I ll be right back, Celeste said.
A moment later, she asked, Did you break down on the side of the road? Are you hurt?
My car is fine. I m fine.
Then what s the emergency? I m meeting with a new client right now who has flown in from
New York. This could be big, Em.
Emily instantly felt badly about interrupting her, but they d been best friends since kindergarten
and, although Celeste had moved to Boston after college, they d kept that friendship close by staying
involved in each other s lives. Remember how I told you I was going to go see Asher Barrington? I
just left that meeting. It didn t go well. So, I m moving onto Plan B.
Wait, is that the crazy idea you had about befriending his parents and guilting him into moving
his facility?
It s not crazy. Some people listen to their parents. It s worth a shot, anyway.
Don t do this. I know a few lawyers. I ll call one tomorrow.
I don t have money for a big-city lawyer. All my money is tied up in the museum. You know
that.
Celeste sighed. I could try to talk one of them into doing it pro bono.
Emily gripped the steering wheel tightly. You think they d take on B&H for free?
Celeste made a frustrated sound. No, probably not. You really went to see Asher Barrington?
Yes, and you would have been proud of me. I didn t let him intimidate me. I made it clear I
wouldn t sell my land at any price.
That must not have gone over well. What did he say?
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