***
We were back in front of the polar bear statue by noon, and Bella was asking me all kinds of questions about it. How long had it been there? Did it take a long time to make? Who made it? Why did they make it? Was it made of stone? Did a real polar bear have to pose so the sculptor could get it just right?
I told a little white lie on that last question and said that the polar bear was a good model.
I held her hand as we walked a full circle around the statue. Her enthusiasm attracted the attention of other townsfolk, who pointed and waved at me as they passed. It seemed that my new clothes and sharp haircut could only disguise my identity for so long. By now, the whole town probably knew I was back, and places as small as Valdez were always crawling with gossip.
I had no interest in knowing what the residents were saying behind my back or what they were wondering. I had no doubt that Bella was a curious subject, as well. They all probably wondered where her mother was. I hoped they would conclude that she must be back in Florida. Maybe they would assume I married a rich, hoity-toity bombshell who refused to set foot in a place like my hometown.
I ignored the stares as I looked up toward the grocery store. On the right hand side was a wooden door with gold letters stamped across it. I could make out the word “ART” right smack in the middle.
“You ready to go look at some paintings?” I asked Bella, who was finally tiring of the stone polar bear.
“Yes,” she said, looking up at me. “Now?”
“Now.” I nodded, and we walked across the square to the wooden door. When we were close, I could see that it read “Valdez ART Gallery”. I knocked, but no one answered. So I tried the handle, which was unlocked.
I pushed it open, and Bella and I found ourselves standing at the bottom of a narrow staircase. I gripped Bella’s hand and we both started climbing. The stairs were wood and creaked on every landing. They were old, like the building. Some of the drywall along the stairwell was starting to crack, and the paint was peeling away.
I missed Florida.
When we got to the top of the stairs, we were in a hallway. On the right were four separate doors that all had people’s names on them. Offices, I assumed.
At the very end of the hall on the left was another door marked “Gallery”. I pushed it open and let Bella walk in first.
I was surprised by the space above the grocery store.
It was an open concept loft with original hardwood floors and floor-to-ceiling windows. I had always seen the black trimmed windows from the street above the grocery store but never knew what sort of place lay on the other side.
The floor was riddled with canvases of all different sizes and covered in all different images. I noticed that each and every one of them was a painting of something in or around Valdez.
So this artist likes this town a whole lot, I thought to myself as Bella and I began wandering amongst the paintings.
I paused in front of one. It captured my attention as soon as my eyes fell upon it. It was a swirl of colors, mostly purples and blues, and was streaked with shimmering silver paint to capture the effect of the northern lights in the Alaskan sky.
That was one of the only things I missed about this place.
I reached out and traced a thumb over the painting. The oil paint was rough, uneven, but it was a masterpiece.
I pulled it forward to get a look at the wooden frame. There had to be a price tag on it somewhere. I was surprised to find none. I frowned and stepped behind it, searching the blank back of the canvas. Still nothing.
Confused, I looked for prices on the other paintings and still found none.
“How can someone buy these if they don’t know how much they are?” I mumbled to myself.
“Daddy,” Bella called. “Come look at this one!”
I followed her voice around a corner and found her pointing at a small painting of the polar bear in the square.
I chuckled. “You really like that polar bear, hey?”
“He’s cute,” Bella said.
“We could buy the painting and hang it in your bedroom if you want,” I offered.
Bella gasped. “Really? Yes, please!”
I grinned, amused by her enthusiasm. “We just need to find someone who works here. I wonder if they went on their break. Hello?” I called, hoping someone would emerge to sell me the painting for my daughter.
I only had to wait ten or fifteen seconds before I heard hurried footsteps.
Then a young woman swept around the corner and drew to an abrupt stop when she saw me. Her dark hair, streaked with red, danced around her shoulders, and her eyes locked onto mine. Her lips parted like she was about to speak. Then she seemed to think better of it, closing her mouth and slipping her hands into the pockets at the front of her apron.
So Rein had continued painting after I left.
She looked from me to Bella, then back up at me. Her movements were stiff, and I could tell that she was uncomfortable with me being in her place of work.
I was uncomfortable too. I had left a note and my number on her car the other night and she hadn’t called, which was a straightforward message that she wasn’t interested in seeing me again. I wished I could disappear or use my daughter as a human shield until I was out of the loft.
It was suddenly very obvious why my mother wanted me to come to the art gallery.