She shoved herself upright as a realization flashed through her mind. She hadn’t worried about having a seizure since the moment before the foosball match.
The only other situations where she completely forgot about her condition were when she was painting in the familiar surroundings of her studio and with Darkside.
She swung her legs off the chaise longue and twirled around the room, reveling in her escape from fear. Paul thought she was perfect. While she was with him, she could convince herself she was too.
She sauntered into the bathroom, plugged the rubber stopper in the bathtub’s drain, and turned the taps on full force.
Julia walked into the gallery carrying three shopping bags. She hoped Paul wouldn’t mind the local saleswomen being privy to the cut and color of the lace undies he’d be stripping off her.
Claire stood in front of a Len Boggs landscape, talking to a couple dressed in casual clothes that somehow reeked of money. Julia gave her quick smile and took a seat on the big leather couch. She had gotten engrossed in a magazine article on up-and-coming Dutch artists when the sofa bulged slightly under her as another person’s weight hit it.
“I found you the perfect place to work,” Claire said. “It’s right in town so you can walk there. Tim took your supplies over there this morning.”
“When can I see it?” Julia swiveled to face Claire, knocking one of the bags off the couch, so a tiny puddle of black silk and lace spilled onto the plank floor.
Claire’s eyebrows rose as Julia scooped up the teddy and stuffed it back into the bag. Julia dropped her gaze to fidget with the handles of the shopping bag. “It’s for a friend of mine’s birthday,” she said.
When she found the nerve to look up, Claire was smiling serenely. “I’m sure your, er, friend will enjoy it,” she said.
Julia cleared her throat. “I wanted to ask a favor. Well, two favors.”
Claire smoothed her hands over her rose linen skirt. “Name them.”
“May I invite my uncle to the Friday reception?”
“You can invite anyone you want.” Claire frowned. “But you’re already jittery about the reception. Won’t your uncle’s presence add to the pressure?”
“Probably. Definitely. But he’s been my agent for my whole career, and I owe it to him to be part of this.” Julia had thought about this as she walked between stores this morning. “I also want him to hear what other people say about the work, whether the comments are positive or negative. He needs a different perspective.”
“Well, I’ll certainly make sure he gets my perspective.”
Julia was warmed by Claire’s fierceness on her behalf. “Which brings me to my other favor. Can you give me some advice on what to wear to the reception and the gala? What is an artist supposed to dress like?”
Claire gave a trill of pure delight. “I need new outfits for the same events, so we’ll shop together.”
“Really?” She hadn’t been shopping with a girlfriend since art school. “Are we going to the mall?”
“Do you want to look like a highly successful artist?”
“Ye-e-es.” Julia wasn’t sure what she was getting at.
“Then we’re going to the Laurels.”
“The resort?”
“It’s the only place to buy designer clothes within a hundred miles.”
“Oh, you meant how much did I want to spend. I’ll just have to call the credit card company again. I’ve kind of overspent my limit on this trip.” Guilt cast a shadow over Claire’s expression of anticipation, so Julia hurried to say, “It’s okay. My bank keeps asking me to please use their card more, so I’m obliging them.”
“Get it raised by Monday afternoon. The gallery is closed, and we should get lots of attention at the resort shops since the weekend crowd will have left by then.” Claire smiled. “Maybe we can even broker a discount since we’re buying in bulk.”
Julia surveyed her new domain, the former Plants ’N Pages. Empty floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the front room’s walls while a couch and two overstuffed chairs stood forlornly in a corner. She walked around the end of the bead-board counter separating what had been the bookstore from the greenhouse. The glassed-in back room was empty except for a potting table at one end. It was heavy, but she managed to drag it to the center of the room. Rummaging around in the stack of new art supplies, she found a drop cloth and covered the table with it, arranging her brushes and paints the way she liked them. Finally, she set up the easel and lifted a small blank canvas onto it.
She repositioned the easel to take full advantage of the light and picked up a charcoal pencil to begin sketching in the outlines of her donation for the auction.