Well, here we go! Erica sighed and opened the front door. A small bell on top tinkled her arrival, and she took a few steps forward. To her right stood several pedestals that featured bronze sculptures and ceramic work. Soon, a gentleman appeared from the back and stretched out a welcoming hand. She blinked. Though tall and attractive, this man was certainly not Nico Sloan. He wore a neat gray suit and silk shirt, his dark hair combed back in a ponytail with just a touch of gray at the sides. He regarded her with mellow brown eyes, shaded by long lashes and dark brows. For a moment, when he smiled, she swore she saw a bit of a Sloan family resemblance.
"Good afternoon, and welcome to the Sloan Gallery. May I help you with something?"
Shaking his hand, she noted the manager's firm, cool touch. "Um, yes," she began, "I'm looking for Nico Sloan."
His friendly, comfortable smile faltered. "Wow! No one has called me that in ages."