Shelter by Stephanie Fournet

Author:Stephanie Fournet [Fournet, Stephanie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blue Tulip Publishing INC
Published: 2018-08-15T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

ELISE

I was running late, and Alberta was going to kill me.

I’d asked Ed if I could leave at four thirty, and I really, really meant to do it, but I’d set up the 3D printer to render my latest design, and it had finished that morning. I had painted the band during my lunchbreak, and it was completely dry at four o’clock.

Okay, so I didn’t have to open up the acrylic paints and start mixing the perfect blue for the aquamarine inlay, but I thought I could get it done before I left so it would be ready to show Ed on Monday when we opened.

But I was wrong. I’d been so meticulous with each round-cut gem, that when I finally got to the last one, I looked up and saw it was already five-thirty. Unfortunately, I still needed to dash home, shower, and change.

I was supposed to be at the gallery at six sharp, right when the doors opened so Alberta could have rock solid support by her side. And I knew it wasn’t just for the exhibit. She needed me there to settle her nerves over her first date with Ross.

Alberta had always been beautiful. She was stunning. She was regal. Her bottle-blue eyes and cocoa-powder skin could settle a hush over any room she entered. But I thought it was her uniqueness that left her so ill at ease. Alberta joked about it most of the time, but being a person of mixed race for her meant she never quite felt like she belonged squarely in either camp, her mother’s white world or her father’s black one. She said it was like walking on the deck of a boat, unsteady footing wherever she went.

Grounding her was supposed to be my job tonight, so when I rushed into The Green Door Gallery a half hour late, it was with a boulder of guilt in the pit of my stomach. I found her standing along the south wall of the gallery — a wall that held six of her canvases — talking to a beautiful woman with long, dark hair and hazel eyes.

I scurried toward her, and Alberta greeted me with a steely glare. “Hello, Elise.” She smiled through gritted teeth. “So glad you could make it.”

I clutched her hand. “I’m sorry. I’m the worst best friend ever. I’ll make it up to you,” I spluttered, willing to promise anything. “I’ll do all the cooking for a week. I’ll take the trash out for two. I’ll wash your car with my toothbrush.”

The woman beside her tipped her head back with laughter.

Alberta rolled her eyes. “Corinne, this is my best friend and roommate, Elise Cormier.” She brought her unamused gaze to mine. “Elise, this is Corinne Granger-Clarkson. She manages the gallery and—”

I offered the woman my hand. “And you’re a legend,” I gushed. “I’ve seen your portraits in the Hilliard, and I saw that feature about you in The Independent. When was that? Like last summer?”

Corinne Granger-Clarkson flashed a wide smile.

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