The Sinister Touch Read Online Free PDF Page A

arrive?"
    He shrugged. "Sometime around eight."
    Guinevere looked at him keenly. "You're really concerned about this showing, aren't you?"
    "It's important to me. If it goes well, it could be a very nice break. A good start for my career."
    "And if it goes badly?" Carla inquired.
    "Then I go back to snitching free crackers at salad bars so I'll have enough money to buy paints and pay for the studio." Mason grinned at her. "Either that or I find myself a wealthy lady patron of the arts."
    Carla assumed an expression of horrified shock. "Sell your body for money to buy paints?"
    "Anything for the sake of my art," Mason intoned. His eyes narrowed as he studied her face. "Have you ever modeled?"
    "Nope. And from the sounds of things you don't have enough to pay me what I'd charge if I did decide to take up the career."
    "One must be prepared to make certain sacrifices for the arts, Miss Jones."
    Guinevere watched the byplay closely. There was nothing surprising about Mason's immediate interest in Carla. Most men who met Carla for the first time were immediately interested. But there was something about the way her sister was responding that was a little different from usual. The sparkle in Carla's eyes was genuine, and the expression in Mason's gaze was very honest and very male. The evening ahead should prove interesting.
    Mason's worst fears concerning his first gallery showing were not realized. Guinevere and Carla arrived at the Midnight Light art gallery to find that a healthy crowd had already descended on the small, discreet establishment.
    "It's the free champagne and canapes," Mason explained as he met them at the door and ushered them inside. "Theresa, the owner, really went all out for me in that regard. Food really brings in the locals. Unfortunately, most of them are fellow artists, who are, by nature, freeloaders, not potential buyers. Still, it makes for a crowd."
    Carla, dressed in a sweep of crinkled peach-colored cotton belted at the waist with a black sash, glanced around the room with a critical eye. "Anyone from the press here yet?"
    Mason looked startled. "The press? Well, I don't know. I'm not sure who Theresa invited. The press doesn't usually pay much attention to this sort of thing, not unless the artist is really important."
    "The press will turn out for free food too," Carla informed him. "But you have to get the word to them. Remind me to talk to the gallery owner later and see just who she contacted."
    Guinevere grinned at Mason. "My sister has a talent for organizing."
    "Oh." Mason nodded vaguely, taking Carla's arm. "Well, come on over and get some of the freebies before they're all gone." He looked around a little nervously. "I never thought this many people would show up."
    Guinevere followed her sister and Mason to the champagne table, scanning the collection of paintings hung on the stark white walls. It was the first time she'd had a really good look at his work. Her previous viewings had been across the distance that separated her apartment from his studio. She had always liked the colors in his pictures, though. Through her kitchen window she'd seen canvases done in warm, vivid hues that appealed to her. But up close she realized that his work was subtly complex, the kind of painting that rewarded detailed study.
    There was an abstract quality to Mason's work, but the pictures were powerful and surprisingly comprehensible. Some, such as the painting of one of the
Pioneer Square
missions on a cold wintry day, contained a definite social commentary. The line of men waiting for free shelter and a free meal was strangely affecting, even though Guinevere saw such lines every evening as she walked home from the office.
    But other canvases were devoted to the integral play of light and color, drawing the eye with disarming ease. Guinevere liked them and found herself stepping closer to one that was predominantly yellow in an effort to read the tiny price tag.
    "A thousand dollars!" She gasped.