Chapter Five #2
Bea looked at Ellie, then the mural, and frowned. “I’m sure I will be. I want you using your talent to do whatever you think will look best.”
It was a pastoral scene, probably meant to evoke rural Vermont, but it could just as easily have been England or France—the style and influence were that obvious.
It had been painted in the 1830s, but the dress of the figures felt like a bit of a mashup.
The original artist was unknown, but they seemed to have an eye on aesthetics more than authenticity.
It probably would have maddened her professors, but Ellie kind of liked it.
“But?” Ellie asked when Bea continued to frown.
“But I want you to give it some character.”
Ellie’s mind raced but came up with nothing she could put a finger on. “Character?”
“Touch it up. Keep the overall look. But, like, make it gay.”
She knew she hadn’t misheard, but meaning escaped her. As did an appropriate response. “How so?”
Bea angled her head one way, then the other, before pointing to the picnicking couple in the bottom left corner. “What if you tweaked them just a little, made the man look like a butch woman.”
It actually wouldn’t be a stretch. The stylized nature of the painting made the figure borderline androgynous to begin with. A few adjustments to the face, a slight swell to the chest—and boom. “I could do that.”
“And these two.” She pointed to a pair of men standing with their horses. “Could you make them hold hands?”
That would be a bit more involved, but certainly doable with her skillset. “Yes.”
“Does it bother you that I’m asking you to do that?” Bea asked.
“No. Of course not. I mean, I’m queer, actually.” And not usually that awkward about coming out to someone.
Bea smiled. “I know.”
Ellie blinked. Even most people with solid gaydar misread her if she wasn’t with another queer person. “You do?”
“Not to sound creepy, but I had Pablo track down as many queer craftspeople and queer-owned businesses as he could find in a reasonable radius.” Bea shrugged. “It’s where I prefer to spend my money if I can.”
Ellie loved the intentionality of that, even if it felt weirdly personal. “Oh.”
“I wanted to know if doing that to the painting would be an affront to your artistic sensibilities.”
“It’s your house, your money,” Ellie said reflexively. But then she did a gut check and added, “I think it’s a great idea. Queer people obviously existed in this world. I feel more of an allegiance to them than to whoever painted this mural in the first place.”
Bea’s whole face lit up. “Exactly.”
It struck her how much stock people in her line of work put into ideas of authenticity and accuracy.
But holding true to the artist’s intent wasn’t the only way of accomplishing that.
How funny that she’d never really thought of it that way before.
“Are you hoping to have me do that with all the murals?”
“Yes. Absolutely.” Bea gave a decisive nod.
Ellie’s mind began to spin with possibilities.
“Wait,” Bea said. “What if you went over-the-top with the one in the bathroom?”
“Over-the-top?” Ellie asked.
“Leave the composition of the painting as it is, but add things like feather boas to the men, five o’clock shadow to the women.” Bea made circles with both hands, picking up speed with each embellishment. “Give them full drag makeup.”
It was almost too easy to imagine. Irreverent in the best possible way. “Pastoral meets pride parade?”
“Yes!” Bea flung both arms skyward, like she’d won a prize. “You get it.”
She did, and she was weirdly excited about it. “Do you want me to do some mockups of the design for you to approve?”
Bea waved her off. “I’ve seen your work. I trust you.”
The thrill of that lasted all of three seconds before having a head-on collision with reality. “We can probably pass off the subtle changes without drawing attention to them, but I don’t think the Historic Preservation folks are going to go for anything drastic.”
For all her delight a moment before, Bea’s expression darkened, like a summer storm cloud that appeared out of nowhere. “Pablo didn’t tell you?”
Ellie’s gaze flicked around the room, but he was nowhere in sight. “Tell me what?”
“We decided to sever our arrangement with them.” Bea’s eyes turned as frosty as her tone. “There were, let’s say, irreconcilable differences.”
Ellie had worked on some houses where the owner had wanted to do that and not been given the option.
It made her wonder whether the house fell out of any formal jurisdiction for that level of oversight, or if Bea had somehow bought her way out of any contractual obligations.
Either way, the result left her torn. On one hand, she loved the freedom it would afford—to make her own mark, to introduce queer themes, to take a few liberties when it came to color.
On the other, she’d just lost a huge feather in her professional cap.
This project would have been her first historic preservation as lead, an accomplishment that had the potential to open all sorts of other doors.
“You’re not going to quit, are you?” Bea asked.
“No. No, of course not.”
“Good. I’m not too worried about the rest of the contractors being purists, but I worried you might be.” Bea let out a sniff of disdain.
Ellie was a lot of things. Purist was not one of them. But rather than take offense, she simply shrugged. “Pure preservation has its place. I don’t think a person’s home needs to be one of them.”
“Tell that to the stick up their ass people at the Historic Preservation Trust.” Bea rolled her eyes.
She’d pass on that, since several of those people were friends and—hopefully—future colleagues. But Bea didn’t need to know those details. “I’m glad you’re doing this project on your terms.”
“Damn right I am. What’s the point of a midlife crisis if you can’t do what you want for once?”
Pablo appeared and summoned Bea for a consult in the kitchen about appliances. Ellie offered a smile and watched her go, more than a little relieved to have the conversation over and done. She wanted to like Bea, but something about her gave Ellie pause. The phrase loose cannon came to mind.
For better or worse, Ellie could sense emotional volatility from a mile away.
Fortunately, she could handle it better than most. In this case, she’d avoid any personal fallout by steering clear and staying on Bea’s good side.
Hopefully, Bea was merely mercurial. Not her favorite thing in the world, but she’d certainly handled worse.