The Glamourist (The Vine Witch) by Luanne G. Smith

Author:Luanne G. Smith [Smith, Luanne G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Published: 2020-06-08T16:00:00+00:00

Elena wore her burgundy travel suit yet again the next morning, thinking it the most practical choice among her meager ensemble. But the color also reminded her of home and the wine hopefully waiting for her in the barrels, so she wore it like a charm, an amulet to fend off the creeping doubt over her future. Jean-Paul’s words still buzzed in her mind as she ascended the steps of Le Maison Chavirée and entered the hallway of the artist flophouse, with its pungent mix of chemical and human musk. She’d promised Marion she would have a progress report on the portrait at dinner, and since the woman had given her ample space to pursue the project on her own, she made a quick check on the artist before seeking out Yvette.

She found Pedro in his apartment staring at the canvas, a wet paintbrush clamped between his teeth, his thumb and eye doing a sort of balancing act with his line of vision. He was clearly flummoxed. Best to check on the photograph and spell and make sure everything was still functioning as it should.

“Hello,” she said after knocking on his open door. “May I see?”

Pedro looked from his painting to the photograph propped on the chair, then to the woman standing in the door. He smiled and shook his head, as if he finally understood the obvious link that had eluded him until that moment. He removed the paintbrush from his teeth. “No, señorita, she is not finished yet. But I begin to see how I have come to this new point of view.” He ignored her then and went back to his work, dabbing a bit of blue on the canvas as he tilted his head to evaluate the placement. “But next I paint the other one, eh?”

“The other one?”

“With the hair like gold. If Tulane had ever seen a girl like that when he was alive . . .” He kissed his fingertips as though he’d just tasted some divine delicacy. “There would not have been enough gold paint to fill his brush.”

Apparently, the spell continued to work as it should, but his last remark concerned her. With some trepidation, she left the artist and went down to the end of the hall where Yvette’s room was located. After a quick knock she opened the door to find the girl dancing on her toes to a song she hummed with unusual delight. The cat was there, too, sitting atop the stove with his front leg dangling over the side, a look of boredom in his eyes. Behind him, on a windowsill, sat three empty bottles of wine, a bowl of grapes and oranges, and a loaf of crusty bread, as well as a small portrait of a beautiful blonde woman in a green dress hastily painted but with obvious enthusiasm for the subject.

“What’s going on here?” Elena picked up one of the bottles of wine and sniffed. Cheap plonk from the market down the street, but sturdy enough to get drunk on.

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