Ignoring her question, he draped an arm across her shoulders. “Since I must win the prize for driving the farthest for your opening, doesn’t that get me a personal tour of the work I fought through hellish traffic to see?”
“If you’ll stop complaining about the traffic like Portlanders always do, I’ll introduce you to some people and then show you around.”
When they got to the back of the gallery, Amanda said, “This is Cynthia Blaine, Sam. I worked in her studio in Seattle. Cynthia, I’d like you to meet … ”
“Oh-my-god-Sam, I believe you said as you dropped half of your favorite chocolate bar,” Cynthia said. “Hi, nice to meet you.”
“And this is Josh Franzen.” The two men shook hands.
“Sam is … Sam Richardson … is a friend I haven’t seen in a while,” Amanda said.
“Right. He’s the guy you … ” Cynthia began but changed direction when Amanda shot her a fierce look, afraid her friend would reveal exactly how much she talked about him. “ … the guy who helped your attorney,” Cynthia finished and glared back.
“I’m going to give Sam a tour of the show,” Amanda said as she picked up her sandals. “You mind? We won’t be long.”
“Don’t worry about us. We were about to leave for Bellingham anyway,” Cynthia said.
“I forgot about that. Say hello to your parents for me,” Amanda said. Holding on to Sam’s arm for balance, she reshod herself, then kissed her friend good-bye.
As she led Sam through the show, she pointed out her work, three sets of two pieces on the theme “Contrasts.”
“Interesting,” he said. He was examining a pair titled “War” and “Peace,” pebbles of glass on curves holding up a clear glass center shot through with strands of wire. “It’s more abstract than the ‘Emotions’ series I saw last year. I like what you’ve done with the metal and the glass.”
“I spent part of my time at Pilchuck experimenting to see how to get it to go together the way I wanted it to. And I’m still working on it.” She described creating the three-dimensional objects of glass, metal foils and slender wire. As she did, she proudly pointed out the red dots, indicating pieces already sold, which had broken out like measles on the tags identifying the pieces.
“I had to be talked into being part of this show, but I have to admit it’s the best one I’ve ever had, not that I’ve had that many shows. I’ve sold all of the pieces already, to serious collectors and at higher prices than I’ve ever gotten. I wasn’t sure what the response would be, but the previews were good and so far this evening everything seems to be going okay. It’s such a relief … ” She stopped. “I’m babbling, aren’t I? Sorry. I’ve been nervous all evening.”
“Nothing to apologize for. You should be excited. But looking at these prices, I’m glad I already own an Amanda St. Claire piece. I don’t think I could afford you now.”
“I could always work something out for you, Sam.”
“How about working out time for dinner with me tonight, then? Or do you have plans?”
“Max, the gallery owner, said a collector wanted to talk to me after the reception but she left so I’m not sure it’s still on. Let me check. Look around for a minute and I’ll find out.”