She appreciated the show of support, but she knew better. “I do. In part because nobody knows who I am, so I need a gallery to publicize me and present me to potential collectors, and in part because my works are three-dimensional and respond to nuances of light and shadow. People need to view them in person to get the full impact.”
“I can’t drive a block around this city without running into an art festival or street fair—”
“And there’s nothing wrong with art festivals and street fairs, but many of my pieces are large, and all of them are breakable.” He was picturing embedded flower paperweights and Murano vases. She did six-foot waves of indigo glass curling into millefiori foams of silver, cobalt, and sapphire. Her vases came complete with cascading glass blossoms dripping with prisms of dew, attracting enough breathtakingly fragile glass bees and butterflies to make a Dutch master weep. “I can’t cart them around to every art festival in Atlanta. Even if the breakage risk didn’t deter me, my price point makes those venues a waste of time.”
His eyes cut back to her. “What’s your price point?”
“If you have to ask…”
“And yet you’re broke.”
“Because I haven’t gotten paid. Those slick-bellied sons of guns owe me over forty thousand in commissions, but I can’t devaluemy name because of my current circumstances. If I started churning out twenty-dollar paperweights and fifty-dollar vases to sell at coffee shops and farmers’ markets, I might as well kiss my fine-art prospects good-bye.”
“What about your pen pals at the Solomon Foundation? Do they have a gallery?”
“The Solomon Foundation has everything.” She closed her eyes and imagined the palazzo on the Grand Canal. “Museums throughout the world, a network of galleries and collectors, plus patronage. They offer fellowships to selected artists. The foundation provides fellows with studio space and living quarters to enable them to pursue their projects.”
“You should apply for one of those fellowships.”
“I did, actually. The week I learned I’d been hosed by my gallery I kind of panicked and sent out applications and proposals to a bunch of different programs. Hence the letter you received by mistake.”
“And…?”
The prompt made her smile. She opened her eyes and winked at him. “They offered me a nine-month fellowship starting in January.”
“Congratulations.” The sincerity in his voice quickly shifted to curiosity. “Why didn’t you say something earlier? You could have celebrated the news with your family.”
“What? And steal the spotlight away from our big announcement?”
“We could have celebrated both.”
She let go of the sheet and snugged into his “guest” pillow. Her eyelids weighed a thousand pounds. She had to leave soon, or she’d fall asleep in his bed. “The two pieces of news don’t really mesh all that well.”
“How so? I’m all for your career.”
“Hmm. The fellowship is in Venice.”
The mattress shifted as he raised his head. “Venice, Italy?”
“Uh-huh. I’m afraid my career opportunity comes at the expense of my relationship.”
He settled back against his pillow. “Huh. I can’t believe you’re choosing Venice over us.”
“It’s the chance of a lifetime. If you really loved me, you’d support my decision.”Yeah, like Mitch. He’d encouraged her to apply, mentioned the firm had offices in Rome and how he could visit often and steal her away for weekends in Paris. And keep her at arm’s length the rest of the time, while he planned his wedding to another woman.
“This works, you know.”
“Yeah. I figure we make the announcement in between Christmas and New Year’s, and explain to our families we’re postponing the wedding until I return. Then during the time apart we realize we’re not meant to be. We break up. An Italian prince sweeps me off my feet, we have half a dozen bambinos, and live happily ever after.”
“I think they dismantled the Italian monarchy after World War II, but I have no doubt the men of Italy will line up to sweep you off your feet and make you happy.”
“Easy for you to say.” But then again, maybe it wasn’t. She detected a hint of something cautious beneath the humor. He didn’t believe in happily ever after. She wished she could see his face, but it was too much trouble to open her eyes.
“Are you falling asleep on me?”
“I’m awake.”
“Okay. So answer me this. What did I get you for your birthday?”