Honey's Farm by Iris Gower Page A

Calvin Temple, who patronized her gallery frequently, not always buying, but on occasion taking a few of her paintings up to London to sell there.
    Calvin Temple was tall and personable, not shy of showing his admiration for Eline as well as for her gallery. When he next came into the gallery, Eline approached him with a warm smile and invited him to take some tea in her private rooms.
    Calvin bowed over her hand, and the light in his eyes showed his pleasure. When she had made the tea, Eline outlined her idea, and Calvin’s handsome face broke into a smile.
    â€˜You mean you want me to run the gallery for you?’ he asked, with such surprise that Eline wondered if she’d overstepped the bounds of propriety. She had believed that, given the opportunity to run the business, in any way he saw fit, Calvin would jump at the prospect.
    â€˜It’s only a suggestion,’ she said quickly. ‘If the idea doesn’t appeal to you, then of course you are not obligated in any way.’
    He sat in the sunny workroom of the gallery, the china cup appearing ridiculously small in his large hands, looking at her with unmistakable warmth in his dark eyes.
    â€˜Mrs Harries,’ he said with enthusiasm, ‘I should be delighted to work with you.’
    Eline shook her head. ‘You will be working for yourself, Mr Temple. I shall be nothing more than a sleeping partner.’
    By his smile, Eline knew that she had used an unfortunate phrase. To his credit, he said nothing, but she couldn’t mistake the twinkle of merriment in his eye. At any other time, Eline might have been flattered by his obvious admiration, but now she felt she just wanted the whole business of the gallery over and done with, so that she could get on with making the best of the shambles her life had become.
    â€˜You will be here to let me down gently, should I make mistakes?’ Calvin asked easily.
    Eline’s level gaze didn’t falter, but she felt suddenly needed for the first time in a long time. ‘Do you think you will – make mistakes, I mean?’ Eline asked, uncertain of her ground in the light of his apparent amusement.
    â€˜I don’t think so,’ Calvin said thoughtfully. ‘But I confess myself ignorant of running a gallery.’
    â€˜But the important thing is, surely, that you know how to sell paintings?’ Eline asked, moving from her chair to stand at the window. She gazed out at the sea, at the plethora of boats bobbing at the moorings. Everything here at Oystermouth looked so peaceful, so enchanting, and yet now, with Will gone away, it was a place of emptiness for her. But she would go to him, beg him to forgive her; she was determined on it.
    â€˜I have no doubts on that score,’ Calvin said firmly. ‘I have studied paintings all my life; I grew up as the son of one of the best, most famous artists in England.’
    â€˜You did?’ Suddenly Eline saw Calvin Temple with fresh eyes. She took in his immaculate linen, his fine-cut coat and the hand-made shoes; and the colour came to her cheeks. Calvin was clearly not, as she’d supposed, a gentleman fallen on hard times. Instead, she realized, he was comfortable, to say the least.
    â€˜I’m sorry,’ she said quickly. ‘I hope I haven’t insulted you by offering you work, work that I see now is far beneath your station in life.’
    â€˜On the contrary,’ Calvin said, ‘I’m honoured at the trust you put in me. I need something to fill my time, and this gallery is just the thing. Apart from which, I love looking at paintings.’
    Eline turned to him and smiled. ‘I know. That’s why I thought of you when I began to look for someone to run the gallery. I’m afraid I didn’t realize that you were a well-to-do gentleman.’
    Calvin’s smile was disarming. ‘That was part of your charm, my dear Mrs Harries. Yes,’ he continued, ‘running the gallery