The Merlot the Merrier

The Merlot the Merrier

Thursday Afternoon

I’ve seldom, if ever, been stunned into silence by a work of art. It is my job not to be. For the past three years I’ve been the Lakeview Arts Center’s assistant director, I write all the press releases, conduct interviews with radio and television, maintain our website and weekly blog, even write the interpretive labels that describe the paintings to gallery visitors.

Jacob, the Center’s fifty-something caretaker and handyman, was not silent as he hung the work that was supposed to bring tens of thousands of dollars in Saturday’s high-stakes live auction. He cut right to the problem. “Holy cow. I hope the open bar will be well stocked. Whoever bids on this is going to need to be drunk! Seriously drunk.”

“Hush! We don’t want to encourage people behaving irresponsibly!” But frankly, I wished I had a lovely glass of Merlot in hand myself. And I knew right where I could get some. The back closet was well stocked with cases of Iowa wine donated for the event by local wineries. But I had to keep my head clear for the next two days. The budget of the center depended on the success of the event and the auction. The money was essential to the Center’s community education program.

Over the past five years the caliber of works auctioned at this annual event had increased. The donation of this work, by Chicago artist Wilson Barrett, had been arranged by previous director Felix Anderson a month ago, before before he suddenly quit. Headhunters had been after him for some time and two weeks, ago after a particularly fractions board meeting, he accepted an immediate offer to manage a Chicago gallery—a much bigger job in a much bigger city.

So here I am, twenty-nine years old and running the Center. The board of directors is already taking in resumes and sending out quiet queries to galleries whose junior directors might be ready to make a leap. I don’t have a chance of getting that job, but I did want to keep the one I had. So this event had better be a success.

My promotional mind began spinning. The acrylic painting was impactful. That’s for sure. It was large, about four feet tall and two feet wide. It dominated the wall at the end of the big gallery where we would be holding our annual dinner-dance in three days. The work certainly was in the spirit of this year’s annual event theme: Joie de Vivre—Dining with the Arts .

If I could convince Jacob, I stood a chance of blunting the criticisms and outright shock of the patrons of Arts Center and the rest of Lakeview citizens. And maybe…just maybe bring in the big dollars we need.

I began thinking aloud as I looked at the vibrantly -colored image of a tipped bottle with red wine flowing down the length of the painting in a sinuous wavy path. Splashes of wine to the sides underpinned images that at first seemed simply abstract colors, but on closer observation revealed parties, celebrations, just plain fun!

The more I looked, the more I saw. It was big and bold with an abstract, impressionist, quality to it. Quite the contrast to the rest of the auction paintings that tended toward still life and lake scenes of shore lunches with boats in the background. I was, in fact, astounded.

“Really this work is the best representation of the theme we have among the ten we have up for auction.” I challenged Jacob. “Just look at all the joy and it. I really love it!”

“I’m so glad you do!” startled by the baritone voice behind me, I would have dropped that glass of wine if I had it. I turned and saw a man, a tall and handsome man I had to admit to myself, standing just inside the gallery doorway. He was pulling a wheeled cart loaded with two cases of wine.

Jacob quickly walked over to escort our uninvited visitor out of the door. “I’m sorry. You’ll have to leave. The gallery isn’t open today. We’re preparing for the auction. Please leave.”

“But that’s my painting! And I’ve brought some of the wine that inspired it as a donation to the cause. As the title says, ‘The Merlot the Merrier!’”

He stuck out his hand. “Wilson Barrett.”

I walked over quickly. “I’m Julie Mason. Delighted to meet you. Please excuse Jacob’s diligence. We’re planning on having a media event in an hour to showcase the ten pieces of art up for auction.

Barrett nodded. “Perfectly understandable and I love the big splash media idea. I’ll avert my eyes from the other works, I promise!”

I had to smile. For a big name artist he had a good sense of humor. So many that I’ve met have been either insecure or tripping over their own ego. I figured to take advantage of this opportunity.

“Do you have a bit of time? I would really like to know more about this work and your point of view in general. What are your inspirations? It’s Chagall, isn’t it? That vivid blue is right out of his American Window in the Art Institute.” I stepped closer and looked at the splashes of wine, capturing vignettes of life. I turned to him, astounded at what I was really seeing. “These are scenes from here in Lakeview. You’ve not only captured the feeling of joy, but somehow these small images start out with a single small detail like Norman Rockwell idealized realism and then somehow fade back, drawing the viewer in to a Monet-like impressionism that really, really captures the emotion of life here.”

I pointed to some of them “Look Jacob, here are the fireworks, the Earth Day 10k, Holiday at the Lake, the sailboat races and so much more. This is a wonder.”

I turned back to Wilson Barrett, struck by inspiration myself. “Listen, Susie from the Lakeview TV station will be here in an hour. Would you consider doing a short interview?”

“Would the other artists feel left out?”

“Well, none of them have brought wine! And none of them have captured what we have here as well and as delightfully as you did in this painting. Seriously, as you are the out-of-state artist and have generously donated what we are spotlighting as the premiere piece, I think we’ll be fine. Besides, I guess I’m in charge for a little while longer, So If I’m going to exercise any authority it may as well be now. That is if you’re willing.”

“Sure. Any excuse for good publicity for me and for your Center would be terrific.”

“Thanks for the wine, too” I turned to my assistant. “Jacob would you mind putting it with the Iowa-donated wines in the storage room?”

“OH! So you have Iowa wine. Maybe we could do our own blind taste-test later? Maybe go to dinner? This is my favorite from a small Oregon winery in the Willamette valley. I have always found their Merlot and Rieslings to be inspirational.”

That tone surprised me. I hadn’t expected such a blatant ‘come on’ from an exhibiting artist. Maybe that was the point. Maybe he is a self-promoting exhibitionist. I didn’t want any part of that.

“Thanks, but I’m really pretty well occupied for the next two days. We have the television interview in a few minutes, remember. The print press will be here after Susie leaves and I’ve got a meeting with some of the board members. Tomorrow there will be a lot of details to finalize. Then on Saturday…well, I’m sure you can understand all the detail work necessary to assure the event goes smoothly. Maybe Sunday morning after church.”

“Of course. I understand.” The next three hours went smoothly. Barrett wandered through the gallery looking at our permanent exhibits of local artists and then studying more intensely the nine other works that will be up for auction Saturday night. He was at his most charming answering Susie’s questions about the painting, his other work, and why he was here. His response was enough to bring in several more active bidders, I hoped.

“While I was researching Lakeview for the vignettes in my work The Merlot the Merrier—there are thirty-one of them so you’ll really have to come early to spend time trying to find them all. Anyway, the more I learned about your wonderful community, the more I felt I needed to come and see it, and the Arts Center, for myself. This is a charming place."

The radio and print press conference went just about as well. Wilson Barrett is a publicity person’s dream, I thought thankfully. But not enough of a dream for me to go out with him. I was relieved that the board meeting went well. I think it helped that I pulled out some of the Iowa and Oregon wines for a taste test just as we were getting started. I said a silent “thank you” to Barrett for the idea. Anyhow, I got most of the members to sign on to extra dinner dance duties. The most important was to assure we had a good flow of bids at the auction. There was some grumbling. “What if I get stuck for the high bid?” was the biggest concern. At that point I made sure that other board members—and their family—would talk up the value of the art to the other bidders with specific talking points I had printed out. It might seem slightly underhanded, but the pieces on auction would be outstanding pieces to own. I knew who most of the bidders would be. They would enjoy the art hanging on their walls and the tax deduction for bids made about the noted “fair market value” of the work. They all left in good spirits.

Friday evening

By seven o’clock the Arts Center was ready for tomorrow’s event. We would open the doors at four-thirty. Start serving cocktails and passed hors d’oeuvres before the dinner service promptly at six. After the usual speeches with a special recognition of Felix Anderson who did promise to be back for the event honoring his ten-years service as director, we’d begin the auction. The podium was centered below our featured painting. So the audience would have it in view the whole time. Others would be taken down from their spots on the side gallery walls, placed on an easel, and put up for auction. None was as big as Merlot And none was anticipated to bring anywhere near the hoped for multi-thousand dollar price.

The twenty round tables each seating eight were set up and ready for guests. The only thing missing were the floral centerpieces. I looked at my checklist. Jacobson’s florist would bring those at noon tomorrow. More chairs were available on carts in the storeroom. We would bring them out as guests who wanted to bid arrived beginning at eight. The bandstand was set up in the large open area next to the gift shop for the dancing and drinking that would continue until midnight. I hoped, with non-winning bidders congratulating those who won their prizes.

The annual dinner, dance, and auction had been Felix’s big idea. After the first three years, it’s reputation for a fun fall evening was well established. It fit into the cultural spot of Lakeview just before the summer residents closed up their cottages and before the year-rounders took off for a month or two in some sunny escape. Early November was prime holiday shopping for those who were well organized and seeking something special. More than once, a winning bid resulted in an astonished holiday gift.

I consulted my checklist. Everything was in place. We’d open the doors tomorrow at noon for a four-hour preview and then shoo everyone out so the caterers could finish placing centerpieces, plates, glasses, and silverware. We’d reopen at four-thirty, collect the tickets as the guests arrived, and we’d be off.

I looked at my watch, just past six and I was ready to go home and put my feet up. Watch a little television, maybe think about housecleaning chores I could start next week, and get a good night’s rest. I knew everyone’s eyes would be on me tomorrow. It was up to me to make sure the first event after Felix’s term went well. The success would be essential in bringing in top caliber candidates to take his place.

Just as I had one arm in my coat jacket the front door buzzer sounded sharply. Not that it ever was quiet. We installed it to get our attention no matter where we were in the Center. I wasn’t expecting anyone and went to the door cautiously. The sun had set an hour ago. I turned on the outside lights over the door and was surprised to see Wilson Barrett standing there with a bottle of ---you guessed it – Merlot.

“What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t accept my offer for dinner last night. I thought I’d try my luck again. Brought some bribery. “

“So I see!” “And I found this really nice restaurant on Main Street—you might know it?” I could see the ironic smile that lit up his face.

“Golly, let me guess. Northern’s Steak House? Or was it Lily’s Diner? Or maybe The Minnow Bucket?”

“None of the above. I'm staying at Pine Tree Bed and Breakfast and I asked Linda if I could use her grill and patio. She said yes, but was mighty curious as to who I’d be cooking for. Stopped at the meat market and bought a steak and fixings. Very fancy paper plates—the heavy-duty kind—and extra fine disposable cutlery. So will you join me?"

How could I say no? Wilson had gone to so much trouble. I know Linda and that must have taken some persuading for her to let him use the grill.

“Sure,” I smiled thinking that at the very least have a good conversation with the B&B host the nest time we met at church. “I know where they are. I’ll run home and put on a warmer sweatshirt and meet you there in fifteen minutes.”

“Thanks. I’ll have the grill heating up. See you soon!” Actually it took me twenty minutes. I did more than pick up a sweatshirt, I changed into a warmer pair of dress slacks and my favorite red sweater, redid my hair and makeup, then I grabbed my best sweatshirt and stepped into my fleece-lined boots. I could see the fire glowing in the fire pit from the street as I parked my car. I walked down the back steps to the sunken patio. The wrought iron table was set with china, cloth napkins, actual wine glasses, and candles.

“Well, you’ve gone all out, Mr. Barrett.”

He walked over and gave me a quick greeting hug. “It’s Will. And when Linda found out who was coming she insisted that the table be set properly. She said that ‘she’d never live it down’ if you were served on disposable plates.”

“It certainly smells wonderful, Will. I think I’m hungrier than I thought.”

He motioned to one of the lounge chairs next to the fire and handed me a glass of wine. “I bet you didn’t even take a lunch break today, did you, Julie?”

I settled in to watch him as he cooked.

“Got me there. Just so many details to watch out for. So I’m very glad for this dinner date, Thank you, Will.”

He saluted me with his meat tongs as he put the steak on our plates and put them on the table. “You are most welcome. Actually I have an ulterior motive.”

“You want me to bid up the price of your painting!”

I took my seat and helped myself to some salad. Will took a bite of his steak.

“Well there is that. Even though I’m not getting a penny, a high price would always look good to raise the market value of my work.”

I nodded. “There is that. It is one reason we get artists to donate.”

We both ate for a couple of minutes.

Will leaned back. “But no, bidding up my price isn’t it.” He poured another glass. “What do you think of this wine?”

I lifted up my glass and held it so the fire shown through and started my best wine discussion. “It’s really lovely. Smooth and nuanced with a bit of cedar and blackberries mingling with the trueness of the Merlot grape.” I swirled the wine in my glass and then breathed in its aroma. “The floral notes of lavender and violets are just enough to make an impression without overpowering the fruitiness. Really, it is one of the best wines I’ve had.”

Will seemed impressed. “See That’s IT. Not only can you convey respectable art speak. You can discuss just about anything as you build a persuasive, positive, impression.”

“Well, you know, public relations isn’t all that hard.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself. I’m beginning to get the feeling you could sell just about anything.”

Laughing I contradicted him. “I prefer the concept of informing and persuading.”

“Okay, that works for me. Anyhow my friend who owns this winery is looking for someone to be his in-house advertising and public relations head.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know much about wine.”

“Sure you do. You’ve just said that this is one of the best wines you’ve ever had.” He chucked. “That would be reason enough for my friend! Besides, I’m out there at least once a month. I could see you, if you like.”

This was turning interesting… did I want that? I mean what was there here for me in this small town? Being near Portland had a lot of temptations—I’d never been there. But knew about the region’s natural beauty. Plenty of outdoor activities, music, concerts, arts. It could be a dream. But why would they want me? I wondered to myself.

Will had continued talking. “You’d have to interview but they’d take my word for it. You’ve got talent and instincts that would be of significant impact to anyone who would be lucky to hire you.”

I responded slowly, “I don’t know. Sounds tempting.”

“So what do you have going for you here?‘’

I thought for a moment, took another sip of wine, and bite of the delicious steak. “Good question. I ask it myself at least once a year. I grew up in Des Moines, went to the University of Iowa for my BA and then MFA in art. I do like working at the Arts Center and living here in this small town. I’m ready to help the next director work through whatever changes he might want to make.”

“But don’t you want more for your career, for your life?”

I twirled my wine glass in my fingers. “Maybe, but I don’t think I’m ready yet for that kind of responsibility.”

Will took my glass and poured in a little more. “You need to think about this. It could be the break you need. Think of it as an adventure. You’d learn how to delegate.”

I must have been a bit tipsy as I broke out in giggles. “I know how to do that already. See I delegated you to make my dinner.”

Will put his hand over mine. “Wait, I thought it was my idea.”

“Someday I'll be ready for that kind of job in that kind of city, but not now. I just want to help the new director understand what we have here and how he can make the most of it.”

We sat for a moment. Maybe it was the wine, or the company, or the effect of exhaustion with another long day ahead but I started to ramble. “You know there is a lot to be accomplished here. We’ve just begun the children’s classes in a serious way. We used to have drop-in casual classes for them, well for all ages, but this year we started month-long courses. It is amazing to see how serious even the younger kids can be. We have volunteers who take art supplies to the senior citizen homes and sheltered workshops to teach classes there. I just really think art is an important part of life. Especially in small towns where there aren’t big museums. We’re bringing in visiting shows as well. And, well, the auction. I think the fine arts should be part of everyone’s life. Don’t you?”

“Yes, yes, I do. I couldn’t have put it any better”

I helped Will stack Laura’s dishes and placed them into her vinyl carrying tote. He said that he would wash them. I suspect my friend, who had been looking out her kitchen window curtains would do them while quizzing Will on our conversation. He walked me to my car, gave me a hug, that might have turned into more, but I stepped away and waved out of the window as I dove away.

Saturday evening

The day had gone better than I could have hoped. We sold every ticket to the dinner. The meals were perfectly served family style to the twenty tables. The wine flowed freely and the auction brought in even more than we hoped for. I stood next to Wilson Barrett as the bids went higher and higher. Board members who I had charged with seeding some early bids kept going on their own. “Thanks for the interview and other press you did. I think raising the awareness of all the special Lakeville scenes really helped.”

“It was my pleasure.” Will nodded. “You are one of the best I’ve worked with.” He walked out to visit with the Des Moines resident who just spent $12,759 for The More the Merlot. I stayed where I was. I could hear the band playing in the other room. The caterers were packing up the rented dishes and linens around me. I was so tired I couldn’t move from my seat at the back of the room. I started going through a mental checklist of the things I’d need to do on Monday. All the paperwork and the follow up news releases. All I could really concentrate on was sleeping in tomorrow. The board members were in charge of the rest of the evening. I just needed to stay around to lock up after everyone left. I wished I could put my head down, but that would really be bad form.

I must have dozed off. The next thing I knew Michael Thomas was gently shaking my shoulder. I looked up with a start and blushed. Bad to fall asleep at my event. Worse yet to have the board president wake me up. I was so startled I knocked over my nearly empty wine glass. I hoped I hadn’t been snoring!

“Julie, are you all right?”

“Yes, yes I am Michael. Is there something that I can help you with? I’m sorry I must have fallen asleep. I’m so sorry.”

“Not a problem.”

I looked around and discovered that six other board members were standing around near by. And Wilson Barrett was across the room, smiling. I started to stand.

“No need for you to get up.”

Great, here it comes, I thought. Now that the event is over and there’s nothing on the Arts Center schedule really until the New Year, I'm going to get fired. Well, nothing to be done about it. Except maybe take Will up on his offer to introduce me to his vintner friend. Oregon is supposed to be nice in the winter. Certainly not as much snow as North Iowa.

I took a deep breath as Michael began to speak. “Julie, the other board members and I have something to discuss with you. We hope you’ll understand the somewhat unusual circumstances.”

“Of course.”

I looked over at Will. I hoped he’d give me a sign of moral support. He raised his glass slightly. Maybe he was getting ready to take a sip, but, maybe, it was a sign that he’d stick by his offer.

Michael pulled a folded piece of paper from his inside suit pocket. “We’d like you to look this over. If there is anything you’d like to discuss give me, or any of us a call.”

Trying to keep my hands from shaking I took the paper and opened it.

“If the terms aren’t to your liking, we’d be willing to discuss.”

They certainly are being fair, I thought. Then I looked at the paper. The first word at the top in big letters said “Contract.” I looked to Michael. “I don’t understand.”

“Julie, we’re offering you the director’s position. This is a three-year contract. We don’t want you running off,” He looked to the back of the room, “Say with someone who would like public relations help in a winery.”

“You’re offering me this job? But I didn’t apply.”

“That’s right. We knew that you didn’t feel confident. But we talked about it and decided that you were the perfect person to take over and keep the Center growing and serving the people of Lakeville. Felix asked Wilson Barrett to come out and do an interview….to see what was on your mind.”

By this time Will had joined the group around the table and they had all pulled out chairs.

“So there wasn’t really a job in Oregon? I won’t have the change to see you once a month?”

“Oh there’s a job all right. But I think you’d be happier here. That was obvious by your reaction last night. Can you forgive me for my part in this unusual job interview.”

“I suppose so.”

Michael interrupted. “Julie, we’d like you to think carefully about this, but we would like your answer by Wednesday. If you don’t take it, we’ll have to start looking. We would like you to be part of that search process. You’ve always done a good job as assistant director, but the way you handled everything that’s been thrown at you the past month as been astounding. That’s why we’re unanimous in making this offer. So please think about it.”

I felt more confident than I’ve ever felt. “No need for me to think about it Michael and the rest of you. I’m flattered, and delighted, and I accept.”

After handshakes all around the board members went back to the dancing. We’d finish the paperwork next week. But I couldn’t be happier. Well, yes I could. I had been thinking it would be nice to see Will once a month. He was still sitting at the table as I skimmed the contract.

“I’m too tired to read this now. I’m sure it is fair. My brain is just not functioning.”

Will took my hand. “Can you take one more piece of news? It is good, I think.”

I nodded. “I think you could to a great job in Oregon. And I know that I’d miss seeing you there. But thanks to the high bidder for my painting, I’ll be out here at least once a month. He’s hired me to conceive of a series of murals for his office building. He’s in real estate with offices not only in Des Moines, but in six other Iowa cities as well. He admired the way—what did he say?—‘captured the true spirit of Iowa and the people who build it.’ So I’ll have to be out here doing research. I hope you’ll be willing to help me.”

I just nodded as he filled my glass with just a bit more wine—all the merrier!