Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 67703 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67703 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
I went into the tasting room and hung up my paintings on the walls. The nails were already there from my previous works, so these were easy to hang. I arranged them based on color, grouping similar images together so the presentation was more aesthetic.
Mom came to my side. “They’re lovely.”
“Thanks.”
“Which is your favorite?”
“I don’t know…I don’t really have one.” My favorite painting I’d ever made was sitting in my apartment. Nothing else I ever painted compared to that work, probably because I’d never felt so emotional in all my life.
“Not a single one?” she asked, her arms across her chest.
“Well, my absolute favorite isn’t on this wall…”
Mom nodded in understanding, her eyes still looking over the fifteen different pieces I’d put on display. “I wonder how long it’ll take for you to sell them all. A week? The weather is nice, so we’ll have a lot of business.”
“A week seems a little unrealistic.”
“You don’t know how much people love these paintings. I didn’t have to pitch them at all. Everyone enjoys their wine and cheese and gazes at them. They seem to feel something, something so strong they can’t leave without that picture. You’ll see.” She turned back to the bar. “You want to help me out today?”
“Sure.” Bones would be working all day, so I should give myself something to do. “Hand out wine all day and talk about it? Sounds like a walk in the park.”
Mom smiled. “Just don’t drink all of it.”
“Well…we might have a problem there.”
We’d just finished setting everything up when my father walked inside, wearing dark jeans and a long-sleeved black shirt. His muscular arms and shoulders stretched the fabric, and it was so nice to see him stand tall, looking healthy and unafraid. It was the perfect antidote to my nightmare, to see him alive and well. Overcome with emotion, I came around the bar and hugged him. I held on, my arms squeezing his torso as my face rested against his chest.
My father looked down at me, hesitating before he returned the embrace. “Everything alright, tesoro?”
I nodded. “I had a nightmare last night…”
He patted my back and gave me all the time I needed. “Your mother used to have bad nightmares too. It’ll pass.”
“I know…it’s just nice to see you.” I turned away, hiding my face so he wouldn’t see the emotion in my eyes. I headed back to the bar and pulled out the bottles we would be serving that afternoon.
My father kept looking at me.
My mother watched him. “So, Griffin is working in the warehouse today?”
Father stopped staring when my mother addressed him. “Yeah. Hector called in sick anyway, so that worked out.”
“Yeah, it did,” Mom said noncommittally. “Vanessa and I will do the tastings together. Her paintings are on display, and I’m sure people will be mesmerized by them, as usual.”
Father turned around and admired the paintings he hadn’t noticed before. He walked up to them, examining with the same diligence Bones gave when he looked at my creations. Father moved his hands into his pockets and stared at them, devoting a lengthy time to his stare when he had a business to run.
I knew I shouldn’t care what anyone thought of my artwork, but my family’s opinion mattered to me. Bones’s opinion mattered to me too. Seeing my father study my work so closely filled my heart with a special kind of warmth.
He pointed to the one on the top left. “That’s my favorite of this bunch.” It was a painting of the city of Florence from the edge of the countryside. Erect and tall in comparison to the low hills, the city stood tall like a skyscraper. “I’ve seen this very view all my life, driving to town or the market…” He turned back around. “But I like them all.”
“Thanks, Father.” I smiled.
Father came back to Mama then kissed her on the cheek. “Free for lunch?”
“I’m always free for lunch. You’re the one who usually isn’t.”
“Well, I’d like to set some time aside for you today.”
She smiled. “I’ll think about it.”
He kissed her on the cheek again before he walked out.
I’d always noticed my parents’ affection since I was young. It was the kind of relationship I wanted to have with my husband someday. Little did they know, it was the exact relationship I had with the man I loved—right at that very moment.
There were a lot of guests that afternoon, all visiting from Florence to try some of the famous Barsetti wine. They ordered cheese to pair with the different varietals, and I enjoyed doing something with my time that wasn’t so isolating. When I painted, I rarely interacted with anyone else. I spent all afternoon in silence, creating pieces based on thoughts, memories, and feelings. Most artists were solitary people, and I guessed I was that way too.