DAMIEN'S POV
Claire organized a small event, nothing as deliberate as the opening, just an evening for the artists who'd shown that first year and the collectors who'd supported them. She called it a thank you rather than a celebration, which was exactly the right framing.
Elara flew up the day before to help with final details that didn't need her help but that she wanted to be present for anyway. I followed the next morning.
The evening was warm for Vancouver in May, the city doing its best impression of summer a month early. The gallery doors were open to the street and people drifted in from outside with the comfortable ease of somewhere they'd been before and wanted to return to.
I stood near the back and watched Elara work the room.
A year ago in this same space I'd watched her
