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“Thank you, George,” I say, my voice low. “I appreciate your words.”
George extends an arm to me, inviting me into the embrace. I hesitate for a second, then step forward, joining them. The three of us stand there, the weight of the apology and the shared history binding us together.
George pulls back slightly, looking at both of us with a resolved expression. “I want us to move forward as a family.”
Skylar nods, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I want that too, Dad. More than anything.”
George smiles, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Now, let's enjoy this amazing Thai food and celebrate everything Skylar has achieved.”
I look around the gallery, trying to figure out where we can set up our impromptu meal. “How about over by that abstract sculpture?” I suggest, pointing to a quiet corner.
George nods, picking up the bags. “Sounds good to me.”
We carefully navigate around half-installed artworks and stacks of packing materials. I grab a few folding chairs while Skylar clears a space on a low pedestal.
“This'll have to be our table,” she says, laying out napkins.
I set up the chairs as George unpacks the food. The smell of spices and herbs fills the air, mingling with fresh paint and wood.
“This is quite the setup,” George comments, looking around at the artwork surrounding us. “Eating Thai food in the middle of a contemporary art gallery. Not how I imagined spending my lunch break.”
Skylar laughs, the sound lighter than I've heard in days. “Welcome to my world, Dad.”
As we finish our meal, the mood shifts. The gallery is a whirlwind of activity, but in the eye of the storm, Skylar has a newfound determination in her eyes.
She looks at George and me, her voice steady and clear. “I have a plan to deal with the Scarpettas.”
I clear my throat, meeting George's eyes.
George nods, his expression grave. “I've been thinking about it non-stop. They're not going to back down easily.”
Skylar, undeterred, continues, “We use the press. The exhibition is the perfect opportunity. We have reporters and influential guests—we use that attention to our advantage.”
I raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “What do you mean, babygirl?”
She takes a deep breath. “My friend Autumn is an investigative reporter. She's been looking for a big story to break. What if we give her one?”
George rubs his chin, thoughtful. “You're suggesting we publicly out them? That's a dangerous game, Skylar.”
Skylar nods. “Autumn could dig into their underhanded dealings, expose them through the media. It would be the ultimate threat–unwanted exposure.”
I lean against a nearby pillar, arms crossed, considering her words. “It's risky, Skylar. We don't know how they'll react.”
She turns to me, her eyes blazing with conviction. “They won't expect it. They think they have us cornered. But if we expose them, if we make their operations public, they'll have bigger problems than us.”
I can see the strategy forming in her mind, the pieces clicking into place. She's thought this through and considered the angles. It's a bold move, one that carries significant risk, but also the potential for a major payoff.
“How would this work, exactly?” I ask.
“Autumn's been itching for a breakthrough story. She would compile a dossier on their activities,” Skylar explains. “We'd make it clear to the Scarpettas that if they don't back off, we go public. It's mutually assured destruction.”
George shakes his head. “It's still dangerous, sweetheart. These people don't play by the rules.”
“Neither do we,” Skylar counters, her voice firm. “Dad, Garrett, you both want to protect me, but I'm not naive. I've been paying attention. It's dangerous, but it's our best shot. This way, we fight them with information, not violence.”
Skylar's plan is clever, leveraging exposure as a weapon against the Scarpettas. Moments like these remind me why I fell for her: her brilliance and determination.
“Alright,” I finally say. “We move forward with this, carefully.”
