Chasing the Butterfly by Jayme Mansfield

Author:Jayme Mansfield
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas
Published: 2014-08-01T16:00:00+00:00

Twenty-Three

Success and Seduction, 1947

I continued to paint from my memory. Endless hills of cadmium yellow, alizirin red, and olive green, lay alongside fields of lavender hues. The skies danced in a swirling mixture of cerulean and cobalt blue while titanium white clouds meandered by.

Only in the privacy of the small workroom in the rear of Emelia’s gallery, I dared to journey home. Once there, I imagined embracing Papa on the porch steps. Later in the evening, when the sky’s blues turned to deep purples and shades of dark, Andre and I kissed passionately beneath the twisted olive trees.

“It was a grand success.” Emelia beamed from one saggy earlobe to the other. “My strategy was perfect. At one point, Monsieur Saillard and Monsieur Batou were about to come to fists over the large poppy field.” She released a boisterous laugh. “I love a good fight when it comes to my art.”

“Pardon, but don’t you mean my art?” I wiped my hands on my paint-covered smock.

“Of course it’s your art. But at this stage of your career, without me, it would be impossible to get noticed. I divulged you to influential art buyers, and they would like to believe they discovered you.”

I secured the lids to the paints and covered my palette with a damp, linen rag. “I am grateful. You’ve provided opportunities for me that I never would have had in Roussillon.” I embraced her and for a moment, missed my mother. “Emelia, tell me, what does it really mean now that you say I’m discovered?”

She stepped away and placed a blank canvas on the easel. “It means your work is now in high demand. You need to paint profusely and take advantage of this window of time to sell your work. If your popularity continues, the prices of your paintings will only increase.” She uncovered my palette. “You noticed who was at your debut?” Her back was toward me.

“There were so many people. I recognized several from the parties we’ve attended. The Hensley’s from England, Crisella and Raymond Chambrun, the Americans—”

“Arthur and Phyllis Barclay, prominent New Yorkers. They returned after the war. Lovely woman, she is.”

“Yes, I enjoyed speaking with her. She asked if I had ever been to New York. I told her I was born there.”

“Your mother was from New York, wasn’t she?”

“Yes. We think she lives there. Would the Barclays know her?”

“You don’t know for sure?” Emelia looked over her shoulder, eyes wide and forehead creased in her typical questioning facade.

“She left when I was seven.” A familiar guilt washed over me and I turned away. “I haven’t heard from her since.”

A deep line appeared between the Madame’s brows and her voice softened. “I’m sorry, Ella. Monsieur Lenoir mentioned something happened with your mother.”

I stared at her, the Grand Madame of the Parisian art world, a woman whose influence could either ensure or destroy one’s future. However, at this moment she wore a dark veil of sorrow, and I wondered what her past held.

We stood for several

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.