50. Winds Of Change #2
“Mmmm,” she hummed, then lifted a brow. “Food for thought. But for now, back to your work. You’re an incredible artist and these shots are just the beginning of a new world for you.”
My brow furrowed. “What do you mean? I’m just getting started.”
Her eyes flitted over my face. “You’re going to be incredibly famous, probably by next year. You just don’t know it yet.”
“Kar, nothing is ready yet,” I said as my pulse accelerated.
With a chuckle, she stood. “Oh, cher, if you touch any of those you showed me, I’ll never forgive you.
They’re perfect. Now, work on more. I want a series of fifty to one hundred.
What I came by here to tell you was that I have a gallery showing for you set three weeks from today.
You already have these thirty shots ready to be framed.
Now get more ready and get ready to sell your art.
The crowd who will be attending will just eat these up. ”
My stomach dropped. “No, I couldn’t. That many in three weeks?”
She bit her lower lip. “Better get started, no?” With a cackle, she gave Rusty a pat on the head. “You take good care of her, you hear?” Then she headed for the door. “Now that you have a gallery date, I know you’ll be so motivated that you’ll get another sixty ready, won’t you?”
“I don’t know how, but I’ll make it happen.” Following her to the door, I still felt a little dizzy at the thought. “This was quite the visit.”
Spinning around, she grasped my arms. “You can do this. You can embrace your inner artist and accomplish anything. You’ll be the next big thing and demand for your work will go up exponentially. So, be ready for it. Ready your soul for it.
"And when it comes to love, open your heart to the possibility that love may not be what you think it is. It might be messy and challenging. It might be soft some days and sharp the next. It could be passionate two months ago and barely warm now. Things change. Seasons change. The heart can adapt so long as you don’t place it in a box and hide it away.
Let it out. Use it. Whether it’s to fuel your art or you as a person, don’t let it go to waste.
And don’t let your preconceived notions of what love should be get in your way of finding your happy ending. ”
I surged forward, hugging her. “You always know just what to say, Kar.”
When she pulled back, she gave my upper arms a squeeze. “You’re incredible. Never forget that.”
Then she was gone.
A few minutes later, my phone started blowing up with text messages. Snickering, I knew it was her with all the things she wanted to say but couldn’t until her mind cleared.
Karpathia: Holy shit! Those photos were fantastique!
Karpathia: Gallery opening three weeks from tomorrow, doors open at 8 p.m., VIP tickets will allow a pre-show viewing at 7:30 p.m.
Karpathia: At least 5o pieces, but more if you have them ready.
Karpathia: Did I mention Morgan Lennox will be there?
Karpathia: Yes, I said Morgan Lennox, the most influential art critic in Chicago.
Karpathia: Breathe!
Karpathia: Keep breathing!!
Karpathia: And June Tso will be there covering it for the Sun-Times.
Karpathia: Are you breathing?
Nope. Breathing stopped when I saw the name Morgan Lennox. Then when I finally started again, it stopped again with June Tso. She was the most revered artistic journalist in the east half of the country. How the hell did Karpathia get them to agree to come to my debut?
I texted her back with several various emojis, then put the phone down and got to work.
When the phone chimed again, I picked it up, expecting to be more from Karpathia, but it wasn't.
Paul: Hey
My heart raced, leaving me feeling light-headed. I slammed the phone down in shock.
No, I had work to do. I needed to concentrate. Taking a few deep breaths, I tried to get my focus back.
Then, it chimed again. I looked at the clock and made myself wait a full ten minutes before I looked at it.
My heart fluttered in my chest. He wanted to see me?
Paul: I wish I could see you.
Butterflies fluttered in my stomach. He wanted to see me?
Paul: I miss you so damn much.
He missed me? What did that even mean? Did he miss sitting with me by the pond or our telling me to hold onto the headboard?
No, I didn’t have time for overthinking. I’d done that for years. It was time to focus on getting ready for my gallery opening. I had work to do.
Shutting off the phone, I focused on my work, only stopping when Rusty needed food. Myself, though? I didn’t bother with anything.
Karpathia must have contacted Wyatt because he brought over takeout, forcing me to stop and take care of myself. After dinner, though, I went right back to work.
The next morning, I turned on my phone to find dozens of notifications popping up, all messages from Paul. Ignoring them, I called Brenda to take an extended vacation from work to focus on getting everything ready.
A gallery opening. For me. I was absolutely panicked but thrilled. Brenda was, too, but she understood.
“I knew this day was coming,” she sighed. “Well, text me the date and time. I have to be there.”
Smiling, I added some food to Rusty’s bowl as I thanked her for her support.
“You were something special. I’d hoped to curate it for myself, but I guess I’ll just have to support you this way now instead. And maybe you’ll come for a guest shoot sometimes.”
“Absolutely.”
I’d just hung up with her when a rap at my door made me freeze.
I wondered who it was. Looking around at the dirty coffee mugs, half-filled with stale coffee, and takeout containers from last night, this place was a mess.
I was a mess, too, not even wearing pants because they were too distracting and my hair tied in a ratty nest at the back of my head to keep it out of my way. When did I shower last?
Thinking it must be Wyatt, here to insist that I eat breakfast, I padded to the door. “You’re kind of taking this fairy granddaddy thing a little far to come over this early, aren’t you?”
But then I checked through the peephole and gasped.