Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
The door opened. She looked up and smiled. Kiel stood there, dressed casually in shorts and a button down. If she hadn’t known better, she’d say he was a local. Most tourists dress in their swimwear or sporty attire to combat the heat and humidity and break out the nice clothes for dinner.
Kiel strode toward her with a bright, ear-to-ear smile. “Hey.” His voice and the simple word sent a shiver down her spine.
“Hey,” she said breathlessly. It took a moment for Eloise’s brain to register they had plans. She fumbled with her things and ended up pushing her bag off the counter. “Crap,” she muttered as she bent to pick it up. When she stood, Kiel leaned on the overhang.
“You okay?”
“Yes, just . . .” Did she want to tell him he flustered her? “I need to tell my aunt I’m leaving.” Eloise started walking away and then stopped. She turned and faced him. “Do you want to meet her?”
Kiel ran his hand through his hair. “Uh . . . Maybe later?”
“You’re right,” she told him. She made her way to the back where Margaux was still in her meeting. Asking him to meet her aunt when she and Kiel barely knew each other wasn’t the smartest thing and could probably scare him off. There was no way she was remotely ready to meet his family.
“Will I see you for dinner?” Margaux asked.
Eloise shook her head. “I’m going to have dinner with a friend.”
“Be safe,” her aunt said. The statement gave Eloise pause. Those words could mean so many things.
After telling her aunt she was going to be gone for the day and would see her tomorrow, she made her way back to Kiel. As she rounded the corner, she watched him for a minute. He studied Margaux’s newest piece—a woman and child watching the harbor as a boat sailed away. She had hung it this morning and people had already registered their interest as soon as Eloise put it on the gallery’s website.
“Do you like it?” she asked as she stepped into the gallery.
Kiel smiled and looked at her. “Did you paint this?”
Eloise shook her head slowly. “My aunt did.” She looked around the space. “All of these are hers.”
“All of them?”
“There might be one or two from a student, but most are hers.”
“You said there’s a waiting list for her work?”
Eloise nodded. “For portraits, yes. These are all works she’s done and sells. We hung that one this morning and people are already interested. We’ll end up holding an auction.”
“So, I can’t come in and buy what I see?”
“You can. It all depends on interest,” Eloise told him. “If she puts something out and there isn’t a rush of inquiries, she’ll sell it to anyone. Other times, there is so much interest, she’ll hold an auction.”
“Wow.”
“Art can be extremely lucrative, but hard to sell. Most people come in to browse, not knowing what they’re looking for or even realizing they want a piece of art. It’s an expensive commitment. You’re spending thousands on something you’re going to hang in a room. It has to fit who you are, not only now, but as you evolve. Otherwise, you’ve wasted a lot of money.”
“And this is what you want to do?”
Eloise nodded. “Very much so,” she told him. “I don’t know about owning my own gallery or teaching other artists, but I’d love to sell my work in a gallery or have my own show someday. It’s not easy, even with Margaux being my aunt. I still have to forge my own path.”
“I’d really like to sit with you when you paint the next time.”
She smiled and came closer to him. “That can be arranged.” As much as she wanted to touch him, to feel his arms around her body and his lips pressed to hers, she refrained.
“How come she doesn’t put your work in here?”
“She doesn’t want to show favoritism which is why the showcase is so important to artists like me. I want to earn my spot and not have it handed over because of who my aunt is or because she owns the gallery.”
Kiel walked around the room, looking at the other paintings. “What do you do with the paintings when you’re done with them?”
“Some are in the back room. Do you want to see them?”
Kiel grinned. “Yes, of course.”
She had him follow her to the back, where piece after piece were lined up against the wall. “Artists, some of them are my aunt’s students, or people who come to Seaport, will submit a piece in hopes she’ll display it. Either now or specifically for the showcase. It’s a crap shoot, but it doesn’t cost them anything to submit, and they can come pick their work up at the end of the summer. Unless of course, it’s chosen. Then it stays until it’s sold or for a year.”