Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 104820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
She reached for her phone and turned off the alarm. While she’d been painting, she’d completely forgotten about the other woman painting nearby. But now she caught the woman’s confused expression. Tessa smiled apologetically, and the woman set down her brush and came over.
“I’m sorry,” Tessa said, meaning it. “I set an alarm to keep track of time. Otherwise, I’ll just stay here until nightfall. But I didn’t mean to disturb your own painting. I hope you’ll forgive me.”
The woman laughed, showing a set of pearly-white teeth. “I know the feeling. But would it be the worst thing to while away a few more hours?”
It would be bliss, but she didn’t have that luxury. “I have to get back to work.”
At that, the woman looked confused again. “Oh, I’d assumed you were a full-time artist. I see you out here most days.” She smiled and then, to Tessa’s horror, walked around the easel and peered at Tessa’s work.
It felt as though a stranger had walked in on her in the shower. Her instinct was to throw herself at the easel to protect it from prying eyes, but instead she went beet red, the woman’s words ringing in her ears.
I’d assumed you were a full-time artist.
Tessa couldn’t imagine anything close to that life.
The woman studied the painting so intensely that Tessa blurted, “I know it’s not very good, but I love how I feel when I’m painting, so I do it anyway.”
The woman looked up with a quizzical expression. “It’s excellent,” she said simply.
Tessa stared at her in confusion. “I’m sorry?”
“Yes, excellent,” she said. “I suspected just by watching you work that your heart and soul were pouring out onto this paper. And now that I see the results, I know I was right. Not only do you have the technical talent with those layers of glazes, you also have a unique understanding of color.” She paused and motioned to the horizon on Tessa’s painting. “Those blues simply melt into one another. It’s wonderful.”
Tessa didn’t know how to respond. The only person who’d ever seen her work was Lewis, and he’d never had one nice word for it. But now here was a complete stranger, a painter no less, who believed the exact opposite.
“Y-you like it?” Tessa half stuttered in disbelief.
“Very much,” she replied. “In fact, I think you should enter the Carmel-by-the-Sea plein air competition.”
Tessa’s mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding.” It was a statement rather than a question.
She couldn’t believe the woman was being serious. Carmel had a well-known art festival every year. It was a huge event in town, with live music and VIP events. The plein air competition was a big highlight, and some of the most renowned artists entered each year.
Tessa couldn’t believe this woman thought her painting would have a chance. At the same time, she could see from her expression that the woman wasn’t joking.
“I have a few flyers for the competition with me,” the woman said. “It outlines all the rules and how to enter.” She gestured at her expensive-looking handbag, casually set on a rock by her easel.
Tessa followed her, dumbstruck. But that was nothing compared to her surprise when she set eyes on the quarter sheet taped to the easel.
She would know her work anywhere. This was Mylene Fraser. The Mylene Fraser, a famous local artist and a jurist for the American Watercolor Society who had exhibited all over the world. Even Arch owned one of her paintings—she’d admired it on the living room wall. Tessa couldn’t believe it.
“You’re Mylene Fraser,” she blurted.
The woman laughed. “Why, yes, I am. And you are…?” She extended a hand, and a silver and turquoise bracelet flashed. She had paint on her fingers.
Tessa managed to introduce herself and then quickly added, “I’m a big admirer of yours, Ms. Fraser.” This was the artist whose weeklong workshop she was saving up to attend. It felt like meeting her on the beach must be a sign.
Mylene smiled her lovely smile again, her hazel eyes filled with warmth. “That’s very kind,” she said graciously. “And I of you. Promise that you’ll enter the competition.”
Tessa was overwhelmed that a famous artist had complimented her work, but she was also such a fan that she knew she couldn’t let this moment slip from her grasp. How many times in life did a person ever come face-to-face with their heroes?
She accepted the competition leaflet from Mylene, who looked pleasantly bemused at Tessa’s fangirling. It’s now or never.
“I don’t suppose you have any pointers for me?” she finally managed to say. “I’m sorry to ask—it’s not every day that an artist one admires so much compliments one’s work. I’ve never been taught—I’d love to learn how to get better.”
Mylene touched Tessa on the shoulder. “Just keep following your instincts. You’ve got everything there already. The only piece of advice I could give you is to paint with more confidence. Load that brush with more color and less water. You aren’t auditioning to be a painter, Tessa. You already are a painter. And, I predict, one with a brilliant future.”