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Chelsea Matthews has a simple dream—travel the country on
the art fair circuit selling her hand-crafted jewelry. When her disapproving
father refuses to release her trust fund money to support her ambitions, she
takes a part-time job in a campus gallery.
While counting the days until she can be free of its stuffy
confines, an unexpected temptation comes in the form of a sensitive painter.
For Hayden Shaw, having his paintings displayed in the
finest galleries is the true measure of an artist’s success. When the pursuit
of his goal puts him in contact with the free-spirited Chelsea, his world is
turned upside down.
Can two seemingly opposite artists find middle ground and
discover the art of love, or will a gallery curator with an agenda of her own
undermine both their dreams?
Snippet #1:
Hayden
Shaw stopped and took a deep breath. Whittier Gallery. The name was etched on
the door, and underneath that, in smaller letters, Marissa Kincaid, Curator. Was she the woman who would change his life?
A chime sounded as Hayden pulled the door
open and walked inside, a portfolio of his work tucked under his arm. He had a
pitch prepared as to why this particular gallery should feature his art. That
same pitch hadn’t gone over well at the last gallery he visited, but he was
undeterred.
A woman sat behind the desk talking on the
phone and she gestured in his direction that she was almost finished. Not
wanting to eavesdrop, Hayden nodded and wandered in the direction of one of the
displays. It featured oil painted scenes of the Boston Harbor, and he couldn’t
deny the skill of the artist. Did Hayden’s own work belong here? Was he good
enough?
No negative thoughts, Shaw,
he chastised himself. Hayden remembered the pep talk his roommate had given him
before he left. He had to be bold and confident.
“Sorry to keep you waiting. Can I help
you?”
Hayden turned around to face the woman as
she stepped out from behind the desk. “I hope so. Are you Ms. Kincaid?” As he
studied her face, though, Hayden doubted it. The woman facing him didn’t appear
much older than his own twenty years. He doubted she was old enough to be in
charge of a prestigious art gallery.
She shook her head and tucked a wayward
strand of light brown hair behind her ear. “No. I’m Chelsea Matthews. I just
work here.”
“Hayden Shaw.” He extended his hand. “It’s
nice to meet you.”
“What can I do for you?”
“I’m a student here at MassArt,” Hayden
said. “I understand you display student work, and I have a portfolio with some
pictures of my paintings—”
“Pictures?” Chelsea interrupted, “or
paintings?”
Hadn’t he made that clear? Hayden tried
again. “I’m painter and I’m interested in having my paintings displayed here. I
do photorealism, so they’re paintings based on photographs. I didn’t want to
lug the originals all the way across campus, so I brought pictures of them.”
“So, pictures of paintings of pictures is
what you’re saying.” Chelsea’s face carried an amused expression, and Hayden
wasn’t sure how to take it. Was she making fun of him, or rather his style? Not
everyone understood or appreciated photorealism. Maybe this gallery wasn’t the
right place after all. Or was she simply trying to joke around? He didn’t
always get people with quirky senses of humor.
“I guess you could say that.” He set the
portfolio on the desk. “Would you like to see them?”
“I could look at them, but it’s not up to
me whether the gallery will showcase your work,” Chelsea said. “Can you leave
this so I can show Marissa?”
“Sure. I can do that.”
“Good. She should be back in a little later,”
she said. “Can I ask you something, though?”
Hayden nodded. “Fire away.”
“Why here?”
He had the speech prepared as to why he
felt this gallery was a good fit, but truthfully it wasn’t much different than
the one he gave at the previous gallery. Besides, he didn’t think that was what
she wanted to hear. “I’m not sure what you mean?”
“I mean what’s the appeal here? What’s so
special about galleries?”
Was she serious? She worked in a gallery,
and she wanted him to tell her what was special about them? “I want people to
see my work.”
“Then why not display it around campus? In
the classroom buildings, stairwells, wherever. People do.”
He knew that. It was impossible to walk
anywhere on the MassArt campus without seeing student artwork on display. While
it made for an interesting environment, seeing paintings in stairwells,
sculptures on the grass and metal works hanging from a tree, Hayden didn’t
quite understand why it was such a popular thing to do. “I want people to be
able to appreciate my work.”
“Who’s to say that the folks walking down
Huntington Avenue can’t appreciate it?”
She had a point, and Hayden was left unsure
how to respond. “It’s not the same.”
“You mean you want someone to appreciate it
by buying it.” Her lips curled up in a smile. “Am I right, Hayden Shaw?”
She was, and Hayden hated how materialistic
she made him sound. He stuck his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and
averted his gaze to the floor.
“Oh please, don’t be embarrassed.” Chelsea
laughed. “Making money is a noble goal. I certainly want to make money from my
art.”
“You’re an artist too?” Hayden regarded her
with curiosity. “What kind? Are you a student here?”
“Yes. Jewelry and metalsmithing major.” She
reached up and touched the necklace she wore, holding it out for him to see. “I
made this.”
For the first time, Hayden examined it. It
looked to be made out of Scrabble tiles, spelling out the letters F-R-E-E. Art
was definitely in the eye of the beholder, but he found the necklace oddly
appealing, much like the woman who wore it. “It’s very unique,” he said. “Are
you? Free, that is?”
Mischief danced in her hazel eyes. Pretty
eyes, he decided. Not unlike the rest of her. “It depends on the context in
which you’re asking.”
“A woman of mystery. I like that,” Hayden
said, then wished he could take the words back. The conversation had veered
dangerously close to flirting, which probably wasn’t wise given that he hoped
to have a business relationship with this gallery. “Is your work on display
here?” His eyes scanned the gallery showroom for any cases that might house
jewelry.
She shook her head. “No. Galleries aren’t
my thing, and my work’s not Marissa’s thing.” She shrugged. “I’m hoping to go
on the art fair circuit this summer, after graduation.”
“Art fairs?” Hayden frowned.
“Yeah. You know, like Ann Arbor. Des
Moines. Kansas City.”
Why would anyone pass on a prestigious
gallery in Boston in favor of the capital of Iowa or a city most famous for
barbecue? “Are you from the Midwest?” Hayden asked.
“No. New Hampshire.”
“Then I don’t see a connection,” Hayden
said.
“The cities I just mentioned host some of
the best art fairs in the country,” Chelsea said. “Surely you’ve heard of
them.” She said it as if she expected everyone had.
Hayden shook his head. “Sorry to disappoint
you, but no. Art fairs aren’t really my thing.” He didn’t get the appeal of
traveling to cities in the middle of nowhere, peddling art on the street. “No
offense, but have you considered aiming a little higher?” Okay, so the Scrabble
necklace was kind of strange. Some people liked strange.
The amusement that once reflected in her
eyes faded, and Hayden knew at once that his words had offended her. “No
offense, but have you?” She retorted before turning away from him. “I’ll show
Marissa your pictures when she gets back.”
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Michele Shriver Author Bio:
I caught the writing bug in sixth
grade, when I threatened to write a whole book after a class assignment to
write the first chapter. I never finished that book, but the desire to create
stories never left.
When I'm not giving life to the voices inside my head, I can probably be found
watching a hockey or football game on TV, hoping one day the Dallas Stars will
win another Stanley Cup and the Denver Broncos will win another Superbowl.
(Hey, it might happen!) Either that or I'm busy with my day job as a juvenile
court attorney, a position that never ceases to provide new material for my
books!
Find Michele at:
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