Hold Me Close(70)

Warmed by the praise, Effie sat back against the cushions. “Thanks. Sometimes it comes out right, you know?”


“I couldn’t make art if you put a gun to my head.” Elisabeth took a seat in the retro-styled chair across from Effie. “So I don’t really know, but I understand. Does that make sense?”

Effie laughed. “I think so.”

“Anyway, let’s go over the ideas I had for the show. We can start by looking at the calendar and going from there.”

Together, they worked up a date and time for the show, how long it would run, how many pieces Effie would need that were similar to the one she’d sent in. Elisabeth assured her they’d fill in with the other work. It was going to be great, she said. Effie wasn’t so sure.

“I’ve never had my own show. I’m not sure I can carry it.” The coffee gone, Effie had nothing to do with her hands but link her fingers in her lap.

Elisabeth shook her head. “You’re going to be great. Really. And honestly, it’s as much about marketing and publicity, these days, getting people into the gallery. And if we can get them in, I can guarantee you’ll sell. You want to see the new gallery space? Check out what we have room for? I don’t know if it will help you figure out what you want to paint or not. I work with some people who insist on being guided by the muse no matter what form it takes, and others who are really more interested in making a living.”

“I’m totally interested in making a living,” Effie said absently as she got up to check out the piece hanging on Elisabeth’s wall, not in the client section but to the side of her desk next to the window. “I make art like it’s my job so I don’t have to get another one.”

It was a photograph. An 11 x 20 print, scattered stones on a bed of velvet with one heart-shaped rock set off from the others. It was more than just a photo. Someone had added lines and color to it, little hints here and there, using ink and pen to transform an already-beautiful shot into something unique. Special.

“This is good,” Effie said, turning to look at Elisabeth, who’d stopped, still and silent, to also stare at the photo.

“It was a gift,” Elisabeth said.

Effie had bitten her own tongue for silence enough times to see the struggle in someone else. Wisely, she changed the subject as she followed Elisabeth out of the office and into the gallery space. It was bright, airy, welcoming. Various paintings, photographs and sculptures occupied well-designed spaces. Effie spotted a couple of her hidden clocks along a back wall but didn’t go closer to see them. She knew what they looked like.

“Can you envision your work here? Oh, hold on. Excuse me.” Elisabeth pulled her buzzing phone from her pocket to look at the screen. Her brow furrowed. She slipped the phone back in her pocket and gave Effie a pained smile.

“You need to take that?”

Elisabeth shook her head. “No. It’s...”

The phone buzzed again. Elisabeth put her hand over her pocket. Effie gave her a sympathetic look, woman to woman. That had to be from a guy.

“Excuse me just a minute. Take a walk around, make yourself at home.” Elisabeth walked away to look at her phone, shoulders hunched, furiously texting.

Effie watched her for a moment and took the chance to tug her own phone from her pocket. Messages from her mother, of course. One from Heath saying he’d be taking Polly bowling tonight if she got her homework finished in time, so if they weren’t home when Effie got there, not to worry. One from Mitchell, a simple smiley emoticon and one word.

Hey.

Hey, Effie typed.

Immediately, the three small dots that indicated Mitchell was typing showed up on her screen. With an eye on Elisabeth, who was now pacing and typing, Effie waited for his reply. He typed. Then stopped. He typed, then stopped.

Finally, Hey.

She laughed, gave another look to Elisabeth, who was still occupied with her phone, and responded. That was a lot of typing for a single word.

I was going to try for clever, but I didn’t know how the joke would go over, so I just went with the safe route. How r u?

Fine, Effie began, meaning to write more but at that moment Elisabeth returned.

“Sorry.” The other woman looked as if she’d been trying not to cry.

“Everything okay?”

“No, not really,” Elisabeth said with a tired smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “But it’s also nothing new. So, let’s take a look at the spaces I was thinking of using for you, okay?”

This time, Effie’s phone was the interrupting buzz. The first time it hummed from her pocket, she ignored it. The second time, she assumed it was because she hadn’t checked the first message—her phone could be impatient with alerts. The third and fourth times it buzzed, she figured she’d better peek to be sure it wasn’t Heath with an emergency with Polly. She caught Elisabeth’s curious look.


“This is something kind of new,” she explained, then after a second thought, she showed her phone to Elisabeth. “Boys being pouty? I don’t know how to deal with it.”

I wanted to follow up about next week, First Friday?

Hey, r u there?

Guess you’re too busy to chat.

Give me a ping when you have some time for me.

“Ugh,” Elisabeth said, but she laughed. “Maybe he didn’t mean it to come off as pouty?”