asked, pulling him close to her. He rubbed her shoulder with his forehead, then turned and glared in the direction of the professor. He resumed his insistent bark, his tone piercing.
She placed him back into the carrier and walked around back to the porch. Mister Tubbs didn’t seem impressed with the professor.
“My poor baby, it’s going to be fine. You rest, and I’ll be back for you soon.” Once settled, he quieted. She offered him a treat, and he curled up in a circle with his reward.
The professor closed the space between them. He stood next to her and studied her face. He reached for her hand, “Come. Let’s see your gift.”
Angie grimaced. My gift? She had once believed she would see her watercolors hanging in Angie’s Designer Gallery . Desiring a career in the Chicago art circles, she’d dreamed of holding by-invitation-only art shows. That desire had long since been abandoned, replaced by Jonathan’s hunger for fame. Even before marriage, he’d talk to her for hours describing their future. As she embraced his ideas, he opened up his bulletproof exterior and allowed her to grow closer to him. Their dreams merged as if born identical twins. Was it because she wanted what he wanted, or was her need for love and acceptance more powerful?
She gazed down at Mister Tubbs snuggled up in a peaceful sleep. He appeared to be fine. Hungry to learn who she was and what she wanted out of life, she followed the professor into the Artist’s Paradise.
The aroma of pine embraced her as she entered the cottage. The professor guided her to the sofa near the fireplace. “Come, sit. You must meet my Paula”
Angie frowned and gazed around the cottage. She saw no one other than the professor. “Paula?”
He patted the sofa cushion next to him, and she obediently sat down. He picked up a leather binder from the coffee table and handed it to her. “There on the front is a picture of Paula Anderson, my first and most talented summer student.”
“Oh, Professor, she’s beautiful.” Angie opened the dark leather binder to find pages and pages of newspaper articles from The Wall Street Journal. “She’s famous, too. You must be so proud of her.” His smile, electric, stirred unexpected envy within her.
The professor turned , raising his eyebrows, “She was my very first summer student. Her talent almost frightened me. I wondered how I could help her reach her goals. I was only a simple art teacher, but she was like a blank canvas. She listened to my every word. She became my gift to the art world.”
Angie’s slumped. How could she expect to be one of his summer students? She could not compete with a talent like Paula. “Professor, maybe I should go. I can’t waste your time.”
He jumped up. “Nonsense , I want to see what you have. Perhaps you will be my next Paula.”
He pulled her up from the couch and directed her to the work area. “See the cottage is ready for your evaluation. Come, get started.” He pointed to a worktable nestled under the three north windows. The table, solid oak, laced with a top of mosaic tiles. On the right sat an artist palate and ten to fifteen tubes of watercolor paints. In the center lay an artist pad. Next to the paper were two tall ceramic glasses filled with water and holding six camel-haired brushes of varied sizes and shapes.
Angie stepped closer. The cottage, an artist’s dream for certain, captured the north light. He’d provided a practical and inviting environment for creating. “I’m speechless. No wonder this cottage is named The Artist’s Paradise.”
“I’m so glad you like it. Paula created all of this perfection. Please, take a seat.” He pulled out the cushioned chair by the artist worktable. “Create. show me what you can do.”
She shuddered and backed up. His stare met hers. Her pulse raced. “I don’t want to disappoint you. Give me a couple of hours and then come back and tell me what you think.”
“I’ll bring you hot tea and lunch
She placed him back into the carrier and walked around back to the porch. Mister Tubbs didn’t seem impressed with the professor.
“My poor baby, it’s going to be fine. You rest, and I’ll be back for you soon.” Once settled, he quieted. She offered him a treat, and he curled up in a circle with his reward.
The professor closed the space between them. He stood next to her and studied her face. He reached for her hand, “Come. Let’s see your gift.”
Angie grimaced. My gift? She had once believed she would see her watercolors hanging in Angie’s Designer Gallery . Desiring a career in the Chicago art circles, she’d dreamed of holding by-invitation-only art shows. That desire had long since been abandoned, replaced by Jonathan’s hunger for fame. Even before marriage, he’d talk to her for hours describing their future. As she embraced his ideas, he opened up his bulletproof exterior and allowed her to grow closer to him. Their dreams merged as if born identical twins. Was it because she wanted what he wanted, or was her need for love and acceptance more powerful?
She gazed down at Mister Tubbs snuggled up in a peaceful sleep. He appeared to be fine. Hungry to learn who she was and what she wanted out of life, she followed the professor into the Artist’s Paradise.
The aroma of pine embraced her as she entered the cottage. The professor guided her to the sofa near the fireplace. “Come, sit. You must meet my Paula”
Angie frowned and gazed around the cottage. She saw no one other than the professor. “Paula?”
He patted the sofa cushion next to him, and she obediently sat down. He picked up a leather binder from the coffee table and handed it to her. “There on the front is a picture of Paula Anderson, my first and most talented summer student.”
“Oh, Professor, she’s beautiful.” Angie opened the dark leather binder to find pages and pages of newspaper articles from The Wall Street Journal. “She’s famous, too. You must be so proud of her.” His smile, electric, stirred unexpected envy within her.
The professor turned , raising his eyebrows, “She was my very first summer student. Her talent almost frightened me. I wondered how I could help her reach her goals. I was only a simple art teacher, but she was like a blank canvas. She listened to my every word. She became my gift to the art world.”
Angie’s slumped. How could she expect to be one of his summer students? She could not compete with a talent like Paula. “Professor, maybe I should go. I can’t waste your time.”
He jumped up. “Nonsense , I want to see what you have. Perhaps you will be my next Paula.”
He pulled her up from the couch and directed her to the work area. “See the cottage is ready for your evaluation. Come, get started.” He pointed to a worktable nestled under the three north windows. The table, solid oak, laced with a top of mosaic tiles. On the right sat an artist palate and ten to fifteen tubes of watercolor paints. In the center lay an artist pad. Next to the paper were two tall ceramic glasses filled with water and holding six camel-haired brushes of varied sizes and shapes.
Angie stepped closer. The cottage, an artist’s dream for certain, captured the north light. He’d provided a practical and inviting environment for creating. “I’m speechless. No wonder this cottage is named The Artist’s Paradise.”
“I’m so glad you like it. Paula created all of this perfection. Please, take a seat.” He pulled out the cushioned chair by the artist worktable. “Create. show me what you can do.”
She shuddered and backed up. His stare met hers. Her pulse raced. “I don’t want to disappoint you. Give me a couple of hours and then come back and tell me what you think.”
“I’ll bring you hot tea and lunch
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