Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78894 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78894 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
“What do you mean I haven’t been myself? I’ve been myself. I’m me. There’s nothing wrong.”
Harlee gave me the look that every best friend gives when they know you’re spewing a load of bullshit. “Ever since Doctor Hottie showed up, you haven’t been the same. Do you want to talk about it?”
“There’s nothing to talk about, Harlee. Nothing. Now go be the good-doer you always are.”
She drew in a deep breath and exhaled. Then she looked up and something caught her eye. Or someone. “Listen, I need to head over to the booth where I’m volunteering. Let’s get together for drinks soon, all of us girls. Okay?”
I smiled. “Sounds good.”
After watching Harlee walk away, I turned as Kelsey approached with Mason and Charlie. I reached under the table and grabbed my purse. The moment Kelsey stepped foot into the booth, I was hightailing it out of there. I hadn’t had a chance to even look at any of the exhibits yet.
“I’m back!” Kelsey announced.
Tossing my purse strap over my shoulder, I flashed her a wide grin. “Great! I’m off, have fun.”
And before Kelsey could say a word, I moved past her and Mason. I bent down and smiled at Charlie. “Have fun today, Charlie.”
Trying not to break into a full-on run, I hurried toward the opposite side of the event space. The children’s booth was set up at the entrance. It was done that way on purpose so that people could drop their kids off and enjoy the rest of the art show without their little ones in tow.
As I meandered around the different exhibits, I stopped and looked at a display that showcased local art. They had arranged the show so that each exhibit had a theme. Some were watercolors only, some sculptures. Some were by artists who lived in the northeast or who were from other countries. It was rather impressive that Lucy Marshall, the art director at the University of Maine, was able to pull together such a great event for a smaller town like Seaside.
There were a large number of people looking at the local display, which I was glad to see. There was something about supporting local artists that always seemed to pull on the heartstrings of folks. Some of the pieces were watercolors, some were oil paintings; there were a few small sculptures, and one iron-work piece.
My breath caught when I saw my own painting up on the wall. It was a landscape of the sea I had painted one day while sitting in the widow’s walk of my parents’ house. A storm had been moving in right before sunset, and the colors of the sky were so breathtaking that I’d grabbed my sketchbook and colored pencils and had gotten to work sketching. I also took a photo of the sky, which was so helpful once I went back to do the actual painting. It was one of my favorite pieces I’d ever done, and it had been hard for me to put it on sale. My brother Braxton had seen it once and begged me to let him have it, but I’d held on to it. I knew that if I was ever going to attempt to sell my work, this would be the piece to do it with.
I had to focus on breathing so I wouldn’t draw attention to the fact that I was internally freaking the heck out.
I had done it. I had finally put up a piece of my work for others to see. Sure, I’d painted plenty before, and had even given some of my family the art I’d painted or drawn throughout the years, but I had never put myself out there like this. I hadn’t even signed my real name on this piece, choosing to use a pseudonym instead. It was my middle name combined with my mother’s maiden name. Elizabeth Ryan. No one would ever put two and two together unless they were family.
“Hey, Palmer. I was wondering when I would see you.”
Turning, I smiled at Lucy Marshall. She oversaw the art show and was the only person who knew I had a painting up for sale. Well, besides my family.
“Hey there!” I replied as I hugged her. “The turnout has been amazing, Lucy.”
She nodded and looked around. “It really has. I was worried, as you know, since Seaside is a smaller town and all. But all the advertising I did in Portland and the surrounding areas paid off. There are a large number of art lovers in Maine. Plus, I’ve heard that most of the Airbnbs are booked up, as well as the Seaside Motel.”
I glanced around. “It’s great to hear about the revenue this is bringing in for Seaside.”
“Have you gotten a chance to see everything?”
“Not yet,” I replied. “I was volunteering in the kids’ booth for a bit. I’m excited to see what’s here though.”