CHAPTER 21

Amanda

I was ecstatic for my gallery meeting. I took time piecing myself together, choosing the right outfit and dusting a bit of makeup on. I dug out my portfolio from one of my suitcases I still hadn’t touched, sighing as I opened it. This was it. I had been calling galleries all over the mountainous cities. I was evening calling as far east as Raleigh, trying to find a gallery that was interested in hanging my artwork. This was the only connection that had panned out into an interview, and I was a nervous wreck.

A knock came at my door as I grabbed my coat. I stuck my arms into it as I reached for the doorknob, and smiled when I saw Brian and Lanie standing there. The little girl launched herself into my arms, giggling and smiling as she held me close. Brian was standing there with an exasperated stare on his face, and I reached out for his hand as I held Lanie.

“She wanted to come over and see you before you left,” Brian said.

“And what about you?” I asked.

He bent down and placed a light kiss on the top of my hand as Lanie laid her head on my shoulder.

“Good luck,” Brian said.

“Thanks.”

I gave them both one last hug, then I headed into town. I was rehearsing all the questions I could possibly be asked, making sure I had all the right answers that pertained to me and my style of artwork. I wasn’t willing to sell something that wasn’t my style to get this gallery showing, but when I got there, I found myself in for more than I bargained for.

“Oh, you’re selling the gallery?” I asked.

“I am,” the owner asked. “Isn’t that why you called?”

“Honestly? I thought you were looking to showcase someone’s artwork. But, I’ve always had dreams of having my own gallery one day. Could I still take a look around?” I asked.

“Sure, help yourself.”

The gallery owner seemed flustered. He was running around, trying to pack things up and slash prices. Boxes were strewn about in corners as he patched holes in the walls, sweat dripping down his trembling brow. The space was nice. Clean and simple, with plenty of wall space to hang artwork. There was a cash register area in the back along with a section of the space that was quartered off with another wall.

“What’s back there?” I asked.

“I use it for storage, but the person who owned this place before I did used it as a small showroom. They blew glass, and they kept their more delicate pieces back there so kids wouldn’t get to them easily,” he said.

“Makes sense.”

“So, a few questions.”

“Okay. Shoot,” I said.

“Why do you want an art gallery?” The question caught me off guard. None of the questions I practiced in my head were going to do me any good in this scenario. I racked my brain to try and piece my answer together as images of my ex came flooding back to my mind. Memories of him telling me to stop chasing my idiotic dream and memories of him snickering at my artwork whenever I was finished. I could feel the pain of his existence wafting through my body all over again, and I had to swallow deep to keep my tears at bay.

“Everyone has a place in this world. Their life. Their passions. Their expression of art. All of it has a place. I want to find mine,” I said.

“So you want a gallery to find yourself?” the owner asked.

“No. I want a gallery because I want to show people in my life that my artwork has a place in a community that would love it for what it is.”

“What type of artwork do you specialize in?” he asked.

“Anything that sends shivers down my arms. A scene or a moment. An emotion or a dream. A painting is simply a snapshot of what moves us. But it’s the emotion behind the painting that brings it to life. I want to fill my own gallery with life.”

I could see him grinning out of the corner of my eye as I lost myself in my mind.

“If I sold you this gallery, what would you do with it?” he asked.

I panned my gaze over to him before a small grin crept across my face.

“The walls would be lined with artwork, but not that one. The wall that serves to quarter off that space would be reserved for local artists who want to showcase their work. That little room back there would be a small store. Small paint tubes and canvases and brushes. I’d want to hold art classes of all sorts. Those wine-and-paint programs, things for children, maybe therapy classes to help those struggling with depression or anxiety. I want it to be a community place. A place where people can come and enjoy, or they can come and do. May I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” he said.

“Why are you interviewing people to buy this property?” I asked.

“I want to make sure it’s sold to the right person. It took me years to convince this city that an art gallery could do it some good. The only reason I’m selling it is because I’m getting older and my arthritis is getting worse.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” I said.

“It is what it is, but I won’t sell this space until I can find another gallery owner to take it. And the right one at that. It took me too long to sell this idea to the community. I’m not letting it go that easily. I’ve seen the power of art. I watched children in this area grow up as they came in and out of my shop. I’ve hired some of them to work part-time in the summers, and I taught them about all the wonderful artists of history. I can’t let that be buried. I won’t.”

His passion brought tears to my eyes. It had been so long since I’d stood in the presence of somebody who was as passionate about art as I was. I hadn’t been looking for a gallery to purchase. I wasn’t even in the position to purchase one. But the more I stood and talked with this man, the more at home I felt with it. The more he talked and the more I listened, the more I figured out that I was standing in the middle of something I didn’t know I needed.

“I really like your vision and the path you’re on,” he said. “I’ll keep your information and give you a call. I have one more person to talk to about this place.”

“Wonderful. I hope to hear from you soon,” I said.

I took my leave and walked out. Now, I found myself hoping he would call. I still had no fucking idea how I would be able to buy a space like this, but I figured it if was meant to be I could go from there. I kept thinking about all the paintings I would hang and all the classes I could advertise. I thought about what it would be like to settle down in this area and live in my grandmother’s cabin for the rest of my life. I breathed in the fresh mountain air as I pulled my coat around my body, then I was halted in my tracks when I ran full steam into someone on the sidewalk.

“Oh, my gosh. I’m so sorry,” I said. “I must’ve just been in my head and not paying attention.”

I looked up at who I’d run into, and I saw my ex staring down at me.

“I see you still have that nasty habit as well,” Daryl said, grinning.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I asked flatly. “I thought you left.”

“I wanted to talk with you alone,” he said. “Without your boyfriend around.”

“Fiance,” I said.

“Funny, since I don’t see a ring on your finger.”

I looked down at my hand before I shoved it into my coat pocket.

“Please, can we talk?” Daryl asked.

“I told you. I don’t want to talk to you. Go home. Go back to your life,” I said.

“Not unless you’re coming with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you, Daryl. You never supported me, only beat me down and told me how stupid my art and my ideas were. You’re an elitist snob.”

“You used to love that ‘elitism’ in college,” he said.

“Well, when people graduate college, they grow up. Like me. I just had a wonderful interview with the gentleman who owns this gallery. I’m in the running to purchase it. What the hell are you doing with your life?”

“A gallery?” he asked, snickering. “You talk about growing up, and then you tell me you’re still chasing that silly dream?”

“Holy fuck, Daryl. Think about what you just said. If you really can’t see why I won’t take you back, then you’re a moron.. Another trait I don’t find attractive. Now move.”

“I don’t think so. I haven’t had a chance to say my peace.”

Daryl stepped in front of me, and I tried to get around him. With every step I took, he backed up. Every time I bobbed, he weaved. He wasn’t moving, and he wasn’t leaving me alone. I felt trapped on an open fucking sidewalk in the middle of the one town I had managed to preserve as safe.

“She told you to move.”

A tingling sensation crept up my neck as Brian’s voice hit my ears. I turned around and saw him holding Lanie as they stood behind me. What the hell were the two of them doing here?

“Brian?” I asked. “What are you doing here?”

“Lanie wanted to surprise you with lunch after your meeting,” he said. “There’s a pizza place a few doors down from the gallery.”

Daryl was snickering behind me and I rounded on him. “What the fuck is so funny Daryl?” I snapped.

He shook his head and looked at my with eyes full of pity. “You used to have so much promise when we first met Amanda. Now look at you. Stuck in this shit town, with your lumberjack and his kid? Wow. I’ve heard of rags to riches, but not the other way around.”

“You’d better watch yourself,” Brian said, his voice low and dangerous.

I turned to him. “Why don’t you and Lanie grab that pizza and head back home, I don’t have much of an appetite right now. I can handle this,” I told him. The last thing I wanted was for Lanie to see her uncle taking a swing at Daryl.

Brian’s eyes bored into mine, but I stood my ground and nodded to him. Finally, he turned on his heel and walked with Lanie toward the pizza parlor.

I turned back to Daryl, who was appraising me with a low whistle. “So you do still have some spunk left in you,” he said. “Looks like your lumberjack isn’t so tough after all.”

I laughed out loud at his comment. “Please. Brian is three times the man you are Daryl. Just because he chooses not to lay you out right here on the street in front of that little girl, doesn’t mean he isn’t tough.”

Daryl shook his head. “It really is sad, Amanda. I could have given you so much more than this.”

“You couldn’t, or wouldn’t, give me your support, and that’s the only thing I ever really wanted. Go back to New York Daryl. It’s over,” I said.

I pivoted and walked to my car, sliding behind the wheel and picking up my phone. I needed to talk to Sarah. She was always good at helping me sort things out. I started the car and headed back up the mountain.