Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
“We’ve had so many people come into town for it. I swear the harbor out by the mansions is some kind of city scape walkway now. Artists set up and paint until the sun goes down.”
“That’s great for Seaport,” Eloise said.
“It is. Tourism is booming. My dad said Margaux’s gallery is part of the attraction for people to come here.”
The Endless Summer Showcase was one of the most popular events in the world of painters. They’d flock to Seaport from all over the country in hopes Margaux would choose their painting to put on display. To be given the chance to show off your talent to the art buyers of the world was worth it to a lot of artists waiting to be discovered. However, the showcase was mostly for Margaux. She was one of the most sought-after artists in the industry. When she was younger, she’d sell out gallery openings in minutes. The elite—Hollywood, CEO’s, conglomerates—they all wanted a Margaux Harris original. She also wasn’t da Vinci or Monet—she was Margaux and people loved her work. Except, she only sold her work one night a year— the Endless Summer Showcase–because of her work these days were commissioned pieces. Every other day, the gallery was filled with artwork from others. Artists could also rent space in the upstairs studio. Getting chosen was a game changer for a lot of painters.
“And they’ll return next year if they don’t get in this year,” Eloise said. She knew painters who came back year after year, or at least they had until she moved away, in hopes her aunt would put them in her gallery.
“See that’s just something I don’t understand,” Fraser sighed and smiled. “What you, Margaux, and the others do, it’s a whole different mindset. Like why spend so much time painting?”
Eloise got it. No one really understood what artists went through, and each one had their own process. There were times when Eloise wouldn’t sleep for days. And then there were times when she’d stare at her canvas for days and paint nothing. The mind worked in mysterious ways. The longest she had ever gone without painting was a little over a month. She thought she had lost whatever mojo she had. Each day, she’d pick up her brush and stare at the canvas, and then it was like her mind woke up and she started painting. The flipside of that was she was awake for four straight days, living off coffee and restorative napping.
“It’s okay,” Eloise told him. “I don’t always understand why people chose the careers they do.”
“Right, but do the artists here make money off their paintings?”
Eloise shrugged. “It’s hard to say. Like I paint for people so I’m making money. I don’t know about the others. They might have other jobs or could be waiting tables while they’re here.”
Fraser nodded. “Valid point. I hadn’t thought about any of them waiting tables.”
A group of college men—well they thought they were men but still acted like boys—came toward them, jostling each other around, taking their hats off and hitting each other, and trying to push one another into traffic. On instinct Eloise pulled Fraser out of the way and stepped back toward the building.
Fraser tsked at the group. “Assholes. They think they own the place.” He shook his head. “I swear Seaport has become the bachelor / bachelorette party capital of the northeast. Every weekend there are multiple parties. It’s good for business, I guess.”
“What are you doing?”
“Bartending during the summer. Back to school in the fall.”
“Where?” she asked.
“The Surf Shack down the street and Auburn.”
“Alabama?”
He nodded.
“Wow, I didn’t expect that at all.”
Fraser looked sheepish. “I know but they threw a lot of money at me, and I couldn’t say no. It’s not all that bad, just when there’s a tornado warning and then it’s like shitting bricks. The fear is terrifying.”
Eloise wanted to laugh but figured it wasn’t the right time. “I bet. Thankfully, it’s pretty safe here.”
“Except for the tourists.” Another wave came toward them, and Fraser stepped closer. Too close for Eloise’s liking, which made her want to take a step back. She didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. While she was happy to see a familiar face, Eloise wasn’t interested in anything more than friendship. Especially with her obligations to her aunt taking up most of her time this summer.
“Are you staying with your aunt?” he asked.
Where else would she stay? “I am.”
“My car’s parked down the street. Do you want a ride?”
“Oh, thank you, but I’m meeting her at the gallery.” Due to the direction of the one-way street, it would be quicker if she walked. She appreciated the offer of a ride though.
“Do you mind if I walk with you?” he asked. And because he asked so nicely, Eloise agreed.
Fraser handed Eloise her portfolio case she had steadied on one of the suitcases, and then gripped both handles. He pulled the luggage behind him, much like she had intended to do. They crossed the street at the first crosswalk and headed toward the gallery.