The Hometown Texas Girl Trilogy by Sharon McAnear

Author:Sharon McAnear [McAnear, Sharon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-63409-235-7
Publisher: Barbour Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2015-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

She was back the next day with her private watercolor collection, pieces that she had never shown anyone. Anne examined each one as though she considered buying it for herself. “These are exactly what I’m looking for. You have bared your soul with them.”

Jemma didn’t respond. Most of them were too close to her heart for display. She wasn’t sure that she wanted to share them with the world.

“I have catalogued the pieces you brought yesterday. Please look over the list and sign at the bottom. I assigned a value to each, subject to your approval, of course. The gallery’s commission is included and defined in the paragraph above your signature. Now, let’s just quickly title these. A brief description will do. We should begin with number nine.”

Jemma flipped through them, heavy-hearted. “Number nine is a girl laughing. Number ten is a girl holding a firefly in her hands. Eleven is a boy and girl kissing. Twelve is a girl looking in a mirror as she brushes her hair. Thirteen is a boy and girl dancing in the moonlight. Fourteen is a girl crying in bed. Fifteen is a boy in a scout uniform. Sixteen is a girl walking on a train track. Seventeen is a bride. Eighteen through twenty-two are all of a soldier.”

“Exquisite. Why haven’t you exhibited them before now?”

“Personal reasons,” she said, staring at them.

“I see. Rest assured, we shall do something special with them. It’s such a pleasure to see your work.”

“Yes, ma’am. When will the exhibit begin?”

“In five weeks. Is that good for you? I’m having to make some schedule changes, and I need time for advance publicity, etcetera.”

“Sure. You said that you would overprice my private collection. Why price them at all? Can’t they just be exhibited?”

Anne flashed a patronizing smile. “It is a policy of the gallery that all the pieces in a show be available for purchase by our clientele. Otherwise, we would be a museum. This is a profit-making venture for all of us, Jemma. It protects both your best interests as well as ours. I’m sure that you understand the business side of art. Have you ever considered hiring an agent?”

Jemma shrugged, having forfeited her options by bringing them in the first place.

“Besides,” Anne continued, “you can always paint more.”

She left the gallery feeling as though she had just forsaken part of her heart and truly bared her soul, like her body in the ICU. She hit the steering wheel with her fist.

She drove back to Le Claire to pick up Trina. They went straight to their housecleaning job and didn’t get home until six o’clock. Jemma flew up to her studio, reached under the daybed, and took out a portfolio case. She removed three watercolors. The first was of Gram, sifting the earth of the home place through her hands as it blew back against her legs. The second was of Spencer as she remembered him in the first grade, front tooth missing and holding an Easter basket. The third was of Papa playing his fiddle.

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