Sandpiper Way (Cedar Cove #8)(83)

“Okay,” she said.

“You should’ve told me…you shouldn’t have done this without letting me know.” He frowned, as if her intervention displeased him, as if he thought she’d been presumptuous.

His lack of appreciation hurt her. “Why not? My mom and I wanted to help you.”

“Tanni.” Shaw whispered her name. He seemed to understand how badly he’d upset her. “I’m not ready…. I don’t have the training or the talent…. Not like you.”

“Yes, you do,” she insisted. “You’re every bit as talented as I am.” It was true that he didn’t have the formal training or encouragement she’d been blessed to receive, but he had the desire and his work revealed passion and honesty.

Shaw found a parking spot and pulled in. He turned off the engine but kept his hands on the steering wheel, holding so tightly that his knuckles went white.

“If you want, I’ll go in with you,” Tanni suggested, thinking all he really needed was her presence and support.

Shaw shook his head. “You go.”

“But…”

“I’ll wait here.”

Reluctantly, she got out of the car.

Until they’d started seeing each other, Shaw had shown his work to very few. His friends knew he liked to draw but that was about it. The only people who really understood were Anson Butler and now Tanni.

The gallery was situated on the steepest part of the street, and she was almost out of breath when she reached the side entrance. Mr. Jefferson had asked Shaw to meet him there because of the renovations still in progress.

Looking back at Shaw, she gave him a small wave and then stepped into the gallery.

“Mr. Jefferson?” she called out, standing just inside the door. She heard the sound of hammering and the whining of an electric sander and called again, more loudly.

Will Jefferson came out, wearing a tool belt. He was tall and about the same age as her father had been when he died. Maybe older. He stared at her blankly. “I’m Tanni Bliss. My mom’s Shirley Bliss,” she told him. “Mom gave you a few pieces by my friend Shaw. And…and he asked me to stop by for him.” She felt a little nervous, despite her unwavering faith in Shaw’s talent.

Mr. Jefferson nodded, as if he’d suddenly made the connection. “Shirley’s daughter. Right.”

“Hi.”

They shook hands, once he’d brushed the sawdust off his.

What if Will Jefferson didn’t understand and appreciate her friend’s talent the way she did? Tanni didn’t know how she’d tell Shaw. A rejection like this could set him back, which was something she hadn’t considered until now.

“So, you’re here to talk about the projects your mother dropped off the other day.”

She nodded.

Mr. Jefferson invited her over to a table, where sketches were carefully arranged in folders; paintings, both framed and unframed, leaned against the wall, covered with plastic dropcloths. “Your mother suggested it would be a good idea to involve young people in the gallery.”

Tanni nodded again. She knew all about that.

“I had Maryellen Bowman and an artist friend of mine take a look at these pieces,” Mr. Jefferson said. “I wanted some expert opinions.”

Tanni held her breath, then released it as she asked the question that pounded in her head. “What…what did they say?” Her heart felt as if it had stopped beating.

“Maryellen has an eye for what will sell in this area. She liked Shaw’s work and recommended that I offer him a contract.”

“And your friend—the artist?” she asked, her voice shaking just a bit.

“He had high praise for Shaw’s work, too.”

“High praise,” Tanni repeated. What beautiful words! Relief, excitement, pure happiness spread through her.

“He felt that Shaw’s talent is still pretty raw, but he definitely sees potential in these drawings. I’d like to have them on display.”

“You would?”

“These portraits reveal maturity and sensitivity. And they have a vivid sense of energy.”

“Yes, I agree,” she said solemnly, trying to sound professional. She’d worked hard with Shaw to focus on the kind of art that suited his vision and his skills—and might also have some commercial appeal. Portraiture seemed the best choice.

“Is Shaw in art school?”

She wasn’t sure how to respond. Tanni had the advantage of having attended art classes and camps through the years. In turn, she’d taught Shaw everything she’d learned, or as much as she could in the time they’d been together. If she said he was in art school, she was afraid Mr. Jefferson would discover she’d lied.

“Not yet.”

Mr. Jefferson nodded. “I have an agreement here that I’ll need Shaw to sign. Two copies, one for me, one for him. Once he agrees to my terms, which I think are fair to both of us, I’ll be happy to display his work.”

“What about the prices?” She didn’t want Shaw to give his drawings away, but she didn’t want them to be priced so high they wouldn’t sell, either.

Mr. Jefferson named a price that felt exactly right. Apparently he’d taken the advice of Maryellen Bowman, who was obviously a good judge, not only of art but of the market.