Epilogue
SILVERTHREAD, COLORADO—PRESENT DAY
" T his is amazing." Margaret Wagner stood in front of the painting, her eyes riveted on the canvas in front of her. "Is it for sale?" She pulled away from the powerful brushstrokes to focus her attention on the vivacious blonde who ran the gallery.
"No." Carrie Macpherson came to stand beside her. "That one belongs to me. My great-great grandmother painted it."
"You're kidding?" Margaret frowned, her gaze returning to haunting imagery of the dilapidated mine, stark against the wild beauty of the mountains. "When?"
"In 1891. The mine belonged to her father-in-law—my great-great-great grandfather." Carrie smiled, her green eyes lighting with the gesture. "The money they made was used to build my family's ranch."
"Well it's fabulous. If it were for sale, I'd buy it in an instant."
"You're not the first one to say that, but I'm afraid I could never part with it. It's a legacy of sorts."
Margaret nodded, fighting against disappointment. "There's just something about it that calls to me. It's almost as if there's a secret there—a story embedded somehow in paint and brushwork."
"There's always a story, isn't there? At the end of the day that's what gives life meaning." Carrie's gaze met hers, her face inscrutable, and Margaret had the distinct feeling that the gallery owner was talking about more than just the painting.
"Do you have more of her work?"
"Some. Not nearly as many as I'd like."
"I'm only asking because I saw a similar painting in New York once. It was the most marvelous thing I'd ever seen. And this," she gestured to the painting, "is almost identical in style."
It was Carrie's turn to nod. "I've had other people mistake her painting for modern ones."
"Well I can see why. There's certainly a timeless quality about them.
Something almost magical." Margaret sighed.
"Anyway, I guess I'm destined to see but never own.
The other painting wasn't for sale either.
I looked for more work by the artist, but never found any. I suppose she just stopped painting."
"Maybe." Carrie said, smiling up at her great-great grandmother's canvas. "Or perhaps she simply had other promises to keep."