Country Roads(123)

“Sorry I’m late,” Tim said, kissing his wife on the forehead. “I had an emergency surgery on a golden who ate a pair of socks.”

Julia choked on a nervous laugh and Tim swung around to look at her. He gave her one of those slow, warm smiles that made her understand why Claire had fallen for him. “You look mighty fine,” he said. “Just the way I picture an artist about to take the art world by storm.”

“Where is everyone?” Sharon’s voice boomed down the hallway.

“Back here in the office,” Claire called, “but it’s getting a bit cozy. We’ll come out there.”

The group moved into the gallery. Julia got a quick look at the bar gleaming with glassware and colored bottles, where one black-clad server deftly pulled a cork while his five colleagues chatted quietly. Sharon strode up to her, dressed in dark pants and a white silk blouse, a large, brightly patterned scarf draped over her shoulders. “I’ve got something I need to tell you,” she said, taking Julia’s elbow and steering her into the corner near Darkside’s portrait.

Sharon paused as the painting caught her eye. “Now that’s a right good picture of Darth Horse.” She turned back to Julia. “Which brings me to my reason for coming early. I want you to have him. If you’re going back to North Carolina, I’ll ship him down to you.”

Julia was flabbergasted at Sharon’s generosity. “But he’s a Thoroughbred stallion. He’s very valuable.”

Sharon shook her head. “He’s not worth a plugged nickel without your influence. Although if you’d let me breed him to a couple of my mares, I’d be right grateful. Now that I’m sure his meanness wasn’t born in him, I think he might have some pretty good potential as a sire.”

“I’m accepting your offer only because he’s my whisper horse and I need him as much as he needs me,” Julia said, tears blurring her vision. “But I’ll find some way to repay you.”

“Hon, you repaid me by turning that horse around. I hate to see a good animal ruined by a bad human.”

The elegant sound of classical music swelled through the room, interrupting their conversation.

“Sorry,” Claire said, as the music’s volume decreased. She stepped away from the bar and walked toward Julia. “While I have everyone’s attention, I’d just like to remind you all to enjoy yourselves. Yes, we are hoping to sell Julia’s paintings, but this is not really about business. It’s a celebration of the growth of an artist whose work I have loved for a long time. Now I’ve come to love the artist herself too.” Claire held out her hand to pull Julia into a hug. “I can’t wait to share both with people who will appreciate them.”

“You and Sharon are trying to make my mascara run,” Julia said gruffly as the others cheered and applauded.

Davis consulted his watch with a flourish. “It’s showtime. Darlene, you may unlock the door.”

Disappointment dragged at Julia. Neither Paul nor Carlos was here. She did the chin-up, shoulders-back routine again as the first guests strolled through the door.

“Let’s get into position,” Claire said, walking to the place where people would turn to enter the circle of paintings. “Kate and Randall, so nice of you to come down from New York. I’d like you to meet Julia Castillo, one of my favorite artists, as you know.”

Julia smiled and shook hands with one well-dressed art patron after another. Some were familiar with her previous work and complimented her on it; others were being introduced to her Night Mares without prior acquaintance. The experience of being the artist of the moment was not unpleasant, although she was beginning to wish she had forced down some food before she came. Her stomach was growling noticeably, and a hunger headache lurked behind her forehead.

“Your uncle’s here. He must have come in the back door,” Claire said, smiling and nodding in the direction of the bar. “Why don’t you go see him while I take care of the latecomers?”

Julia skirted the outside of the panels to reach Carlos, who stood chatting with two women. He wore another of his power suits, this one with a burgundy shirt and black-and-gray striped tie. His companions, both of whom were young and attractive, were laughing delightedly. A little smile tugged at her lips; Carlos was an accomplished flirt.

“Hello, Tío,” she said, greeting him with an air kiss on each cheek.

“Mi Julia!” He swept her into a warm hug, which she returned heartily as a rush of love for the man swept through her. He held her away by her shoulders. “Your show is a triumph. I have been eavesdropping on the conversations around me. I am a wrongheaded old man.”