Instead of Three Wishes by Megan Whalen Turner

Author:Megan Whalen Turner [Turner, Megan Whalen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Juvenile Fiction, Fantasy & Magic, Short Stories, Legends; Myths; Fables, Other
ISBN: 9780061968419
Google: 3JiiTzp-z1cC
Amazon: 0060842318
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2006-08-08T04:00:00+00:00

Somewhere behind us a car honked. We were stopped at a traffic light that had turned green. The cabdriver put the car into gear and hurried through the intersection. “Lady? Did you want to go to the East Building or the West Building?” he asked.

“West Building, please,” said Aunt Charlotte.

The cab pulled around a corner and bounced across a cobblestone parking lot. It stopped in front of a pair of huge metal doors, and we got out. Aunt Charlotte went to pay the cabdriver, but he waved one hand out the window.

“No charge,” he said. “Free ride. Best story I heard in my life, in my entire life.” He drove away, his wheels squeaking on the cobblestones.

“Well,” said Aunt Charlotte, looking after him, “I did think that it took a long time to get here.” Her cheeks were pink, and she looked pleased.

“Was that the end of the story? Did you ever see Olga again?” I asked.

Aunt Charlotte took my hand, and we walked into the museum.

“No, that isn’t quite the end of the story. I never did see Olga again, and it may surprise you to hear that I quite forgot about her for many years. Then one day, when I was home from college (I studied chemistry), I came to a fund-raiser here at the museum. I brought my fiancé because I thought it would probably be very boring. During the speeches we slipped away and went to look at the paintings. Your great-uncle Emlin, you don’t remember him, I suppose, was majoring in art history. He told me little snippets about the paintings we passed, until we reached this one.”

My aunt had stopped at a small painting of a profile of a girl. Only her head and shoulders fit into the frame. She was wearing a dark coat and a hat with a wide flat brim that matched. Her blonde hair was long and straight. Her nose was tilted up, and her lips curved in a delighted smile.

“This,” said my aunt, “is Celeste.”

I read the plaque at the bottom of the picture carefully. It said “An Alsatian Girl by Jean-Jacques Henner.” I looked up at my aunt.

“Yes, well,” she said, “you can just imagine how surprised I was. It had never occurred to me that my friends must have had paintings of their own. All of my days with Olga came back in a rush. I dragged my fiancé through as much of the museum as was open, telling him the story as we went. He was able to suggest likely painters for each subject, but no others of my friends were here. Later, I paged through art book after art book until I found them all.”

She tugged at my hand, and I followed her out of the gallery.

“I badgered the curators here at the National Gallery and donated pots of your great-great-grandfather’s money so that this museum could acquire the portraits of each of my friends, I even found the Canaletto. You’ve seen it. It’s the painting at the top of the stairs at home.

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.