Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 96512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
“So we’ll talk again. Soon. I’m here for a couple of days. I’m seeing some of the members of the Club. If you want to meet again, I’m happy to get together. I know you have family responsibilities, so I don’t want to add more to your plate. I’d love to hear from you when you’ve had a chance to think about things. You’re talented. And I’d like to work with you, but you have to want this, Juniper. I don’t want to force you into anything.”
I gave up on my dreams of being a painter a long time ago. Maybe Grace’s right, maybe I still am a painter. But to paint as a career? Those dreams died when Riley came into my life. And now I’m not sure I have room for those same abandoned dreams anymore, now that I’m a mother.
TWENTY-TWO
Fisher
I pull up in front of Juniper’s house and kill the engine. She’s already on the porch and there’s a bottle of wine and two wineglasses in front of her. I can’t help but grin. I can’t remember a time when a glass of wine on the porch with a woman would have sounded like manna from heaven. In Star Falls, everything hits different.
“Hey, you,” I say, as I approach the porch and climb the steps, carrying a gift bag. “How are you feeling? It’s been a big day.”
“Yeah, I’m exhausted.”
“Riley was okay with her grandparents?”
“I mean, she was salty about not being able to meet Grace and tell her about Mommy’s art, but she’s fine.”
I chuckle. “She probably knows it almost as well as you do.”
“Not quite,” she says. “I do my best work when she’s not around.”
I lean over her and press a kiss to her lips. “You smell incredible. What is that?”
“Acrylic paint and chicken sausage?” she suggests.
I laugh and sit down next to her. “Wanna drink?” I plonk down the boxed bottle of champagne I brought with me. “I thought we should be celebrating,” I say.
“Fisher, you didn’t need to do that. I don’t even have any proper champagne glasses.”
“Tastes the same no matter the glass,” I say. “I didn’t know if you even drank champagne.”
“Well, I don’t. It’s not on the menu at Grizzly’s.”
I chuckle. “But you like it?”
I shrug. “I guess. I had it at a wedding once.”
Our lives are so different. But I wasn’t always living it large in New York. My family wasn’t poor, but we weren’t living-in-a-penthouse-in-Manhattan wealthy, either. It’s not like we don’t have things in common.
“How are you feeling about today?” I take the foil off the bottle and untwist the wire holding the cork in place.
“Grace is lovely,” she says.
“Very nice. And she loved your work.”
Juniper nods. “Yeah. That was good to hear. You think she was just being kind?”
I pour out the champagne into the two wineglasses. “I know for a fact she wasn’t. After you’d left the Club, she and I had lunch with Byron and Rosey. It was a shame you couldn’t join.”
“Yeah, thanks for inviting me. I’m sorry, I had to get back for Riley.”
“It’s fine.” I hand her the glass and raise mine. “To you and all that awaits you.”
She smiles, but it’s more reserved than I’m used to from her. “Thank you, Fisher. You’ve been so kind to introduce me to Grace and to bring her here and… I know you’re busy and have a thousand other things to think about. I don’t want you to think I don’t appreciate it.”
“It’s fine. I enjoy introducing people who are going to work well with them. And finding talent and helping it soar is my passion. There is nothing to thank me for. I’m getting a kick out of all this.” Fact is, helping Juniper is more fulfilling to me than breaking any musical artist before her. There’s no pretense with her. No ego. I’m really rooting for her.
She glances down into her lap. “It’s just that… the stuff she was saying about my work. It’s so flattering. I didn’t go to art school, and other than a passionate high school art teacher, I’m self-taught. I just don’t know how I’d ever fit into a world where I have to network with important collectors and gallery owners.”
“You don’t need to fit in with them. You just need to be you.”
She presses her lips together in a way that tells me she doesn’t believe a word I’m saying.
“I’m serious. That’s what agents are for. They can help you find your way, attract the right attention. This is going to be good for you.”
She shakes her head and I get a twinge in my gut, like she’s hurting and that hurts me.
“What?”
“Fisher, I have a job and a daughter and responsibilities. I can’t fit in a pedicure, let alone more time in the studio working on more canvases.”