He didn’t answer, just put a jeweler’s loupe on his right eye and began looking at a small gold coin.
The less contact she had with Edward and his son, the better, she thought as she exited the shop. Her next job was to seek out Brittany and make sure she’d chosen what clothing her models would wear tomorrow.
Liz sought but didn’t find. The lights were on in Sirens by the Sea, and the mannequins were clothed, but Brittany was nowhere to be seen.
Chapter 10
Liz had borrowed a straw hat from Kate’s shop and decided to take a stroll around the grounds to see if everything looked in order for tomorrow. She was a little concerned about the weather. What had started out as a perfect day was now beginning to cloud up, and she hoped that the forecasted mega-storm for Monday didn’t arrive a few days early.
She followed a path along the south side of the hotel. Up ahead, she spied Minna’s golf cart parked next to the gazebo steps. Most everyone on the barrier island, especially on this deserted stretch of land, got around on golf carts.
Minna looked toward her and waved. Liz waved back.
When she reached the gazebo, Minna said, “Love your hat.”
“Thanks. I borrowed it from Kate.”
“Come. Have a seat. I’m taking a creative early lunch before I have to relieve Francie.”
The white wrought-iron gazebo had been built in the 1970s and fashioned after the one in The Sound of Music. After the first hurricane season, most of the small panes of glass had been blown out by the hundred-mile-an-hour wind gusts. Now only the frame remained, making it much cooler inside—after all, this was Florida, not Austria. As Liz knew, it still made for a fun stage to re-create the scene from the movie with the song “Sixteen Going on Seventeen.” As a teenager, Liz would dance in the gazebo with an imaginary partner under a star-filled sky, the sea air smelling of gardenias and the promise of future love.
Minna sat on a stool that faced an easel with a large stretched canvas. In front of her was a panoramic view of the ocean. A large toolbox rested on top of a small folding table. Next to the toolbox was a coffee can filled with brushes and other strange-looking utensils, reminding Liz of dentists’ tools.
Liz sat on the bench that followed the perimeter of the gazebo. “What are you creating today? I bet you’re low on stock because your pieces sold so quickly at your last gallery showing.”
“Thanks to all the support everyone at the Indialantic gave me.”
“I loved that showing. I wanted to buy a piece for my beach house, but as soon as I turned my back, someone else bought it.”
“It was probably Brittany. She still owes the gallery for one of my pieces. On the first day of my show, she bought Tempest in a Teapot with a check. Sonja, the gallery manager, usually requires a credit card or money order. Brittany told Sonja she was the proprietress of the Indialantic by the Sea Emporium and Sonja took her check. It bounced the next day, but I still had to pay Sonja her commission. Then, when I presented Brittany with the bounced check, she said she’d pay the balance and bank fee.”
“I’m not surprised. I hope you got your money.”
Minna ran her fingers through her short, spiky brown hair, highlighted on the edges in auburn. Last week, the highlights had been green, and the week before pink. “It’s been two weeks. So far all I’ve received is a lot of heartache. I even offered her a discount. I wouldn’t mind if she was grateful at all. But every time I ask her about it, she has this snotty attitude, like I should feel lucky anyone bought one of my works.”
Liz said, “You are one of the most popular artists in Florida. Why didn’t you just go take it back from her?”
Minna opened the toolbox and took out a large jar marked Thick White Gesso and placed it on the folding table. “I’m not that desperate. I’ll wait awhile and then send one of my Italian nephews.” She laughed. “That will get her motivated.” Minna commenced with ripping white tissue paper into small pieces, then placed them in a bucket at her feet.
Liz hadn’t ever seen one of Minna’s works in progress, only her amazing finished pieces on the walls of Home Arts by the Sea or at Sun Gallery in nearby Vero Beach. “Will this piece be completed in time for tomorrow’s Spring Fling?”
“No, it takes me a couple of months, at least. I like to take my time. Introduce new materials and think about the composition. A lot of people have the misconception that all you do is glue a bunch of unrelated items onto a canvas. I like to do layers. The viewer might not even see what lies underneath, but I know it’s there, and that resonates with me. It’s like the secret to the Mona Lisa’s smile—you never know what lies beneath da Vinci’s masterpiece, only what he wants you to see on the surface. Using reflective light technology, a French scientist has found another woman’s portrait behind the iconic painting. Not that I’m comparing my work with The Master’s.”
“It’s like writing a novel, too. There’s so much background, research, and character analysis you need to do before you even write a single word, and most of it doesn’t ever find its way onto the page—it just remains in the author’s head.”
“Great analogy.”
“Hey, I just saw Francie. Home Arts looks fabulous for the Spring Fling.”
“It was a great idea,” Minna said, as she started to pack up. “I hope your new hotel guest, Regina Harrington-Worth, doesn’t show her face
