Chapter Thirty-Five

The phone rang at least eight times and Henry was about to hang up when Mary answered.

“Hello,” Mary said, catching her breath.

“Hi, Mom, were you outside?”

“Yes, just bringing in some fresh vegetables from the garden.”

“So, are we still on for Wednesday lunch? I can hardly wait to taste the Borscht soup. You said it would be the best I have ever tasted. Last year’s was pretty good, Mom. It will be hard to beat!”

“Yes, Henry, I’ll do my best. Hopefully it will help you to always think kindly of me. And I will bake some fresh bread for you, too!”

“Wow, Mom, you’re really going all out. And believe me, Mom, soup or no soup, I will always think of you as the best Mom in the world!”

“Well, let’s see.”

“And, Mom, for the life of me, I can’t think what it is you want to tell me and show me. Can you give me a clue, Mom?”

Mary looked down at the pink envelope in her apron pocket and patted it. She carried it with her every day since deciding to give it to Henry. The lilac scent soothed her.

“You will know all about it soon enough, son. If you can spare the time try to book off two hours.”

“Will it take that long!?”

“Perhaps even longer.”

“Now you really have me curious. Okay, Mom, I love you and I’ll see you the day after tomorrow. We are starting to hang a new exhibition and should have most of it done by tomorrow. So with that out of the way I should have lots of time for us to spend together.”

“That will be just fine, Henry. Take care and I love you, too.”

Henry hung up the phone and went to the fitting room. Shelly was just taking some pottery out of a box.

The decision to hire Shelly after Allison left for College was a good one. She not only was a good sales associate, but she also brought a little flair to the gallery.

Still in her early twenties, she was quiet and reserved. She had long brown hair and wore it in many different styles, but usually up in a bun. She walked very erect and together with her soft demeanour possessed an air of elegance. Her clothes were another thing. Everyday she wore something different and on the edge, definitely artsy. She was a very steady worker, but relished her private time.

When five-thirty came, she’d get on her bicycle and pedal off down the street. Her erect posture on the bike and air of sophistication reminded Henry of Mary Poppins.

“Well, Shelly, we’d better finish setting up the rest of the exhibition. Doug has all of Lydia’s paintings framed and ready.”

“I’ve started to put the pottery on display, Anne brought it in this morning. Is her work ever beautiful,” commented Shelly, as she opened another box of Anne’s pottery. “Each piece is so unique. I’m in love with one of her teapots that has an extra long spout and handle. It is so different.”

“Yes, I noticed it earlier this morning. I’m certain it will be one of the first to sell.”

Justin emerged from the frame shop in the lower level carrying a framed watercolour in each hand.

“Well, Dad, Doug just finished these and asked me to start taking them up to the second level. I’m going to help him hang the paintings. We might finish today.”

“That sounds good. We still have to price everything and print out titles for all the paintings. Some of Lydia’s followers want to preview her work tomorrow afternoon prior to the opening.”

“Let’s get a move on, then,” said Shelly, as she picked up several pieces of pottery to take up to the second floor as well.

From the day Henry opened the Gallery, his philosophy had always been, ‘art is for all.’ It was his goal that both beginning and experienced art collectors would feel equally at home in his gallery.

Henry liked to exhibit three-dimensional pottery or sculptures along with two-dimensional paintings during exhibitions. It made for a more interesting exhibit and drew a larger crowd. Furthermore, the abundance of natural light flooding the gallery through all the windows displayed the pottery, fused glass and raku pieces so well.

They finished hanging all the paintings shortly after six. As always, Doug had done such a nice job in selecting mouldings and mats that presented the paintings at their absolute best.

“Well, Henry,” said Shelly, “I really have to go. Our dinner is around six and I’m a little late now.”

“Sure, you go ahead. Please prepare the title cards for each painting in the morning. The list of titles and sizes are on the table in the fitting room. Doug is figuring out the frame cost for each painting and I’ll add the gallery prices to the watercolours.”

“As soon as you give me the final price of each piece I’ll finish the title cards and stick them beside each painting.”

“Excellent, Shelly, see you in the morning.”

Henry turned towards Justin. “Why don’t you grab a Coke and make yourself a sandwich in the kitchen. I’d like to go up and check everything over once more before we head home.”

“Sounds good, Dad.”

Henry made his to the second level and reviewed all the pottery and paintings. He was glad they had left, he didn’t like hurrying an exhibition. Both artists had worked hard to get their pieces ready and he wanted to make sure they were hung right and displayed to their best.

Henry walked through the rooms several times studying the art, their shape and colour, then made some minimal changes. It took over an hour before he was finally satisfied that the paintings and pottery were in their best position and light. The show was almost ready for exhibition.

Henry wandered through all three rooms again. Satisfied with the flow and balance and that everything was well displayed, he relaxed.

As he gazed at the show, his mind turned philosophical. There is something about art that emits a peace of its own.

“Aesthetic sustenance for the spirit – food for the soul,” he would always tell his customers. “We need art in our lives. It provides a respite from the hustle and bustle of daily living. It gives us pleasure, a sense of awe and wonder and peace. It makes us aware of and appreciate the world around us.

“What artists do is give us a part of themselves, their vision and the gift of creativity God has given them. They make us stop and look at ordinary moments in time by making them special.”

Fatigue settled in. His legs were not as strong as they once were. Standing up and walking around all day was beginning to take their toll. He looked around one final time, then pivoting on his heel, starting with the storage room, he began turning the lights off one by one until all was still and dark except for a night light in the front room.

He instantly felt at peace. He was surrounded by art – the world he loved and was fortunate enough to work in.

His heart’s only desire now was to have someone to share his passion with.

The thought made him think about the lady who was driving that car he pulled up to the other day. At first it looked like Camilla but it couldn’t have been. It wasn’t her car for one thing and the feeling he had when their gazes met for that split second was so strong and memorable…the encounter still tugged at his memory…and heart. What was Julean trying to tell him or show him?

And why don’t I have that kind of feeling when I am with Ivania? Surely a stranger in another car shouldn’t have generated that kind of feeling. But then was it a stranger? It was so difficult to get a clear view…

Perhaps it was someone that he knew only too well.

The next morning Henry was on the phone calling his mom when Justin came in.

“Geez, Dad, eight of Lydia’s paintings sold already and the exhibition hasn’t even opened yet.”

Henry covered the phone, “Yeah, I noticed. I’m just trying to get Mom and let her know I’ll be there in half an hour.”

Henry let the phone ring until it cut itself off and then hung up.

“She’s either in the bedroom getting ready for me and can’t hear the phone or she’s out getting in some fresh dill. She knows how much I love the flavour and aroma of fresh dill.”

The mere thought of the dill tantalized his nostrils. He could hardly wait to taste it. Yet, he wished she had answered the phone.

“I like Grandma’s soup, too, Dad. Can I come along?”

“No, Shelly has some errands to run over the noon hour so you may be needed to watch the gallery and Mom has something she wants to talk to me about so maybe next time. In fact, I’ll bring some back for you.”

Henry grabbed his sports jacket and hurried to the parking lot.