Almost Perfect

'She's in the back. I'll buzz her.'

'Thanks.'

While Juanita made an intercom call, Maddy looked around to get a feel for what sort of art they liked. The galleries on Canyon Road had handled originals almost exclusively. This gallery, however, dealt heavily in limited edition prints by big-name artists. That hardly surprised her since prints were the bread and butter of many galleries.

Then she peeked into one of the back alcoves and wrinkled her nose at the mess. More paintings leaned against the walls than hung on them. She started to turn away, but her gaze landed on a large canvas by one of the better-known cowboy artists.

'Wow,' she whispered, moving toward it.

'What?' Joe whispered as well, although he sounded more amused than reverent.

Maddy checked to be sure Juanita was out of earshot, then started flipping through the stacks of paintings. 'I'll say this, what they lack in ambience, they make up for in quality.'

'Oh?' he prompted.

'Definitely.' She moved to another stack. The originals were all by established names in the world of Southwestern art, the very same artists whose prints filled the front. Any print gallery or mall poster shop who offered Southwestern art carried these artists' works, but few could get their hands on this many originals. 'Your friend Sylvia has some major connections.'

'Didn't I just say that?'

'Yes, but…' Maddy turned in a slow circle, taking it all in as jitters assailed her stomach. 'I am way out of my league here.' She rolled her eyes sideways to look at Joe, wondering if he'd stop her if she tried to bolt.

His eyes narrowed in warning.

An image suddenly popped into her head of her running for the door, Joe making a diving tackle, and them landing sprawled on the floor with his arms wrapped about her legs.

Okay, so escape was not an option. She faced one of the few paintings actually hanging on the wall, gathering her courage and ordering herself not to panic.

'May I help you?'

With a start, Maddy turned. The woman stood nearly six feet in height with a rigorously maintained figure, a long fall of silver hair, and a face that took the word 'weathered' and turned it into a fashion statement.

'Hello, Sylvia.' Joe extended his hand.

'Joe Fraser.' The woman smiled. 'Always good to see you. Are you looking for anything special today?'

'Actually, I'd like you to meet an artist friend of mine.' He placed a hand on Maddy's back, right between her shoulder blades, and exerted enough pressure that she either had to step forward or fall on her face. 'This is Maddy Howard-'

'Madeline Mills,' she corrected.

'-from Texas. I wanted you to be the first dealer in Santa Fe to have a shot at taking on her work.'

'Oh?' The woman turned to Maddy with genuine interest. 'What sort of work do you do?'

'Oils mostly.' She lifted the portfolio. 'I brought photographs if you have time to take a look.'

'Always. Bring them over to the framing table where the light's better.' Sylvia glided away.

Maddy started to follow, but realized Joe was glued to her side. She stopped and lowered her voice. 'I can handle things from here, okay?''

'You sure?'

'Yes.' She made a shooing motion with her hand. 'Go browse. Please?'

Joe scowled, but stayed where he was, watching as Maddy joined Sylvia at a large table covered in carpeting. Molding samples filled the wall behind them. Maddy laid her portfolio on the table and opened it to the first page. She pointed and talked, apparently telling a bit about each piece. Nodding her head, Sylvia lifted the reading glasses that hung from a chain about her neck and slipped them on.

Remembering Maddy's order to browse, he pretended to study a painting, but his gaze kept darting toward them. What if Maddy was right and she wasn't ready yet? What if a couple of weeks would have given her a better edge? What if he'd pushed her into blowing this chance?

He reminded himself of all the things he'd said in the truck, things he believed. And yet… what if Sylvia crushed Maddy's ego with one glancing blow?

He saw Sylvia straighten. She smiled. Politely. Damn. A polite smile was not a good sign. Maddy smiled as well. Stiffly.

They shook hands, and Joe wanted to kick himself.

The instinct to protect made him take a step toward them, but he stopped. His presence might make things worse. He and Maddy weren't close anymore, even if they had spent a remarkably pleasant day together.

Besides, Maddy looked admirably calm.

Until she dropped her portfolio on the floor.

It landed with a splat and photos went everywhere.

Joe mobilized, crossing the room in long strides, scooping up photos as he went.

'I am so sorry,' Maddy was saying as she scrambled to recover her pictures and her dignity.

'What are these?' Sylvia bent down to retrieve several pieces of colored art paper.

Maddy looked over and realized what the woman held. The oil pastels. 'Oh.' She straightened, alarmed at having this woman who had rejected her finished pieces see rough work. 'Those are just some preliminary sketches for a new series of oils I want to do.'

'Now these I like!' Sylvia announced, laying them out on the table. 'Sophisticated yet playful. Vibrant colors. Very distinctive.'

Distinctive. There was the word the woman had used at least three times while flipping through the photos. Yes, it's all very good. You clearly have talent. But your style isn't distinctive enough. Maddy frowned at the pastels. 'You really like these?'

'Definitely.' Sylvia held one at arm's length. The image was the aspen trees behind the Craft Shack, done in squiggles and slashes, the shimmer of silver-green leaves against white and black trunks.

'So,' Maddy ventured, 'when I finish the paintings will you take a look at them?'

'Oh, good heavens, don't do that!' Sylvia gasped as if Maddy had offered to kill someone's pet. 'You'll ruin them!'

'What?'

'Your oils are fine. Excellent, in fact. Perfectly conceived and perfectly executed.'

'But… I thought you didn't like them.'

Sylvia looked at her over the top of her glasses. 'They also happen to be perfectly bland.'

'Oh.'

'But these. These!' She held out another image, this one of a gnarled pifion tree growing out of sunbaked boulders. 'They're perfect just the way they are.'

'You just said perfect was bad.'

'There's perfect, then there's perfect. Do you have any larger pieces like these?'

'I'm afraid not. But I can do some.'

'Excellent.' Sylvia removed her glasses. 'Here's what I'll do. If you agree to have these framed at your expense, I'll take them on consignment here in the retail showroom as a test. If they go over well, we'll talk about limited- edition prints.'

'Prints?' Maddy nearly choked.

'For our next catalog.'

'Prints,' she repeated. The memory that had tickled her brain out in the truck clicked into place. Images of the West. Of course that sounded familiar! They were an art publishing company. One of many, but one of the best. She glanced around again, at the caliber of artists they represented, then looked at Joe.

He turned sheepish. Well, as sheepish as a man with his build and dark good looks can manage. 'I, uh, guess I forgot to tell you this isn't a normal gallery.'

'Gallery, showroom, whatever.' Sylvia waved a hand. 'I assume you understand I want an exclusive.'

'That's, uh…' Maddy's head took a dizzy spin. If this panned out, she wouldn't be in just one gallery. She'd be in