Appointment with a Smile Read Online Free PDF Page A

recognized love. Or perhaps I wanted to recognize love within her eyes.
    On my iPod were my favorite songs from ABBA’s greatest hits, along with many of my other favorite CDs. I did not expect to hear ABBA as my brush lightly pressed the canvas. When “I Have a Dream” began playing, I placed my brush down. ABBA had released the song about the time Molly was leaving me.
    With Molly gone, romance also seemed to have left my life. I’d doom any attempt at romance by warning each woman I dated that I was still in love with my first love. Some took it as a peculiar challenge. As Esther had aptly put it, others dropped me like a ton of turds. Smiling, I wondered how many times over the years she’d pulled out that line. Each time I tried to fall in love, it simply wouldn’t work.
    I picked up a small brush and daubed a slight bit of black on the tip. I usually didn’t bother putting much of the color black on my palette. Known for vibrant colors, I used umber, sienna, or sometimes just a darker version of the color I’d shaded. Adding black to color dulled a picture’s life. And my life once again felt the darkness as I dulled it down to black.

Chapter 6
     
    Fiona stared at my latest work. It rested on the cabinet in the gallery’s back room where they framed the canvases. “You painted this in one afternoon?” she asked with a frown.
    “Yes, this afternoon. Alla prima. Done in one sitting. It seems a bit unfinished when comparing it to my usually precise work. But it is finished.”
    “A new style for you. And it’s extremely precise. The eyes are lovely. Perfectly executed.” She stood back, squinting. “Yes, maybe the best rendering of eyes I’ve ever seen.”
    “Perhaps that’s all I truly wanted to be seen.”
    “After those sales last night, did you phone Roxie about sending additional paintings as I asked you to do?” She gave a tug on the hemline of her glitzy turquoise- and tangerine-colored overblouse. With a swirling feather pattern, it seemed to compete with her makeup. She wore black stiletto pants, with matching stiletto shoes.
    “Yes. She shipped them this morning, the few that I recommended.”
    Fiona arranged for shipping companies to crate and convey artwork to any destination as quickly as possible. I was never certain if she achieved exactly what she wanted through threats, cajoling, large quantities of money, or her charm. But she always triumphed.
    “Do thank Roxie. And please assure her I’ll put it right with her for the bother. A few sent today will be a start. You want to put this one in?” Fiona asked with her most encouraging voice. “We may sell out in a week. And I can’t expect a painting a day from you, although it would be nice.”
    “I’ll do my best as far as productivity goes.” I usually spent a great deal more time on one painting. The notion of rapidly completing a work was a stranger to me.
    “It’s raining money, and it’s past time you got drenched, my dear. Have a chat with your muse. This London trip is taking you to new places. Paint and let it rain!”
    “You could use a few raindrops as well,” I joked.
    “Me in particular. So don’t worry about showing up at the gallery and putting in time. Besides, you’re a piss-poor rep of your work. You’re in the midst of a glorious first solo exhibit of this magnitude. And you’re creating. I love it. This is an art odyssey. Paint,” she repeated.
    “What about Max?” I asked. “I don’t want him to feel as though I’m letting the gallery down.”
    “As much as I adore him, he’s a fool. But I can convince him we’ll make more money in the end. That’s his objective. And once he sees this painting, he’ll agree. He runs the gallery. I run the artists.” She gave a husky laugh before puffing heartily on her cigarette.
    “Art is its own secret,” I said. “Value is no one’s secret.”
    “And art is no secret from you, is it, you sweet Saph?” she asked as Spencer approached. “Look at