The Artist's Paradise by Pamela S Wetterman

Author:Pamela S Wetterman [Wetterman, Pamela S]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781492754718
Amazon: 1492754714
Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
Published: 2013-09-24T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 24

Angie rose early the next day. Taking a deep breath, she could almost taste the fresh air. Surrounded by the sweet fragrance of roses and pungent pines, her life was a fantasy in wonderland. She wrapped her arms around her chest in a hug and grinned. Her first full day of lessons had arrived.

Her daily workout would stimulate her more than the caffeine in the morning coffee. She jumped into a tee shirt and shorts. Finding a running path in a nearby park, she raced around the half-mile track. Her three-mile run completed, shower taken, and coffee perked, she settled onto a rocker on her small -back porch. Relaxing in the morning breeze, she enjoyed the birds in the feeder. The gardens were in full bloom with pink inpatients, yellow coreopsis, and lavender irises.

She couldn’t help fall in love with Tennessee more each day. An abundance of blooming flowers filled the neighbor’s garden next door with vibrant shades of reds, pinks, yellows, and whites. The fresh air, so unlike the stale city smog, graced her lungs. The gentle breezes tossed her chestnut hair as if taking flight. The sounds of nature surrounded her. All she had back home was Lincoln Park and the zoo. Chicago would be difficult to return to after spending time in Knoxville.

She jumped at the sound of a knock at the front door. Racing into the cottage to greet the professor, she smiled as she welcomed him in. His warm-dark eyes and muscular body caught her immediate attention. She had known he was handsome, but built like a boxer too? He was a spectacular vision to enjoy.

“Good morning, Angie. Breakfast is ready. Are you prepared for your lessons today?”

“Ready, Major Turner, Sir.”

He tapped his heals together, and entered with a tray laden with tea, croissants, and fresh fruit dipped in yogurt.

She followed him to the small coffee table like a starving puppy. He set down the silver tray and settled onto the sofa. He looked up, patted the seat next to him, and said, “Come, eat. You must be starved after that long run.”

She rubbed her stomach. How did he know she’d taken a run? “I am. You are such a wonderful cook. I’ve probably gained five pounds since I arrived two days ago. You’re spoiling me, terribly.”

The professor scooted closer to her and placed his right arm around the back of the couch. “Are you ready for our next lesson?”

She turned to face him. “Ready, Captain. I await your command.”

“Good. Today we evaluate your skills in the following techniques—graded wash, glazed wash and dry brush. You will be using all three techniques in one painting.”

“Tricky. How much time are you allowing me for the exhibit?”

He paused, tapping the pencil against his chin, and then replied, “You may have from now to lunch. This allows you the ability to create a watercolor masterpiece.”

She gulped down her breakfast and stood. “It’s time for me to begin, and you to scoot. I’ll see you at lunch.”

As he rose, he said, “I can see I’ve created a monster.

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