Tanner
“Do whales have ears?”
I can’t help but smile as I listen to the little boy talking his father’s ear off as they walk around the gallery. He’s full of questions.
“Yes, they even talk to each other,” the dad replies.
“What? They cantalk? I want to talk to a whale.”
“They have a language we can’t understand,” is the father’s reply.
“I’m gonna learn it.” The boy’s face is set in determined lines as he follows his dad to the next piece of art to examine.
It’s early in the day, and these two are my first customers. Wayne won’t be in for a while yet, and I usually take this time to answer emails, place orders, and balance my books.
But today, I just want to enjoy the art in my showroom and check out the deliveries that came in yesterday.
I took a lot of shit from my friends when I was a kid whenever I said I wanted to work with art. I can’t draw a stick figure to save my life, but I’ve always enjoyed studying paintings, sculptures, and just about any other art form out there.
At the sound of the bell above the door, I glance up and see the man with his boy walk out, and I begin my own journey through the space.
I have something for everyone. Cowboy bronzes, paintings of wildlife, and landscapes portraits.
It’s an eclectic collection, but I’ve had success with it.
A lot of success, actually.
I straighten a canvas, then dust off a bronze piece of a woman holding a kitten, and I realize that this piece reminds me of Sarah and Petunia.
I don’t have a place for it in my house right now, but if it doesn’t sell soon, I’ll consider it as a gift for Sarah.
With a half smile, I walk into the small storeroom next to my office. Wayne unboxed several new pieces yesterday afternoon, but we still have to catalogue them and get them ready for sale.
My phone rings in my pocket, and I’m surprised to see my aunt Becky’s name on the display.
“Well, good morning, favorite aunt.”
“You know, those words would mean so much more if I weren’t youronlyaunt.”
I laugh and remind myself that I need to get down to Newport to visit her. “How are you today?”
“Well, I’m doing fine, and I’d be better if this kitchen would ever get done.”
“Are youstillhaving issues with that?” I scowl at nothing in particular. “Do you want me to call someone?”
“No, they should be finished this week, thank all the gods above. Anyway, that’s not why I was calling. Do you remember Ally Macky?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You know, she lived in that house on Cherry Lane that had the gargoyles on the eaves, like she lived in a damn castle or some such thing?”
“Oh, I remember the house, yeah. The new owner had the gargoyles removed.”
“Good, they were awful. Anyway, do you remember her?”
“Not really. She was alotolder than me.”
There’s a slight pause. “She’smyage.”