Chapter 7
“You’ve cleaned up some, I see,” Griffin said. “The last time I was here I had to be careful not to bump into things.”
“Tell me about it. Now a lot of it’s stored in the basement,” Daniel told him as they went up to the studio.
“Now this is nice,” Griffin commented, looking around. “You did a good job remodeling.”
“More like the contractor’s people did, once I told them what I wanted.” Daniel went over to the canvas rack. Taking out the three paintings, he stood them on the floor against the wall.
Griffin, hands behind his back, studied them. “Realism, but not,” he finally said. “There’s a magical quality to them even though they’re places you can see every day.” Kneeling in front of one of them, he nodded. “I can imagine an elf, or a satyr hiding just out of sight behind this tree, waiting for the right moment to step out and reveal himself to the child who is playing hide-and-seek with his sister.”
“Exactly! You understand. Ray would have looked at it and told me that no one in their right mind would believe in a house or a tree like that, because they’re not realistic.” Daniel snorted softly. “No matter what I created, he always found something wrong with it, and he couldn’t understand why anyone would buy my work. His idea of art was that it had to be practical, especially when it came to his restaurants. With them, it had to be pictures of meals, or people eating, hanging above the tables, or murals representing the country if the restaurant specialized in say Italian or French cooking.
“Scenes of Venice or Paris,” Griffin muttered in obvious disgust.
“Yep. His restaurants are always classy, except when it comes to the art work. He hires good interior designers, but they’re constrained by what he thinks is—” Daniel made finger quotes, “—art. And trust me, he never asked me to paint anything for them.”
“His loss,” Griffin said, standing again. “You’re very good.”
“Thank you.” Daniel hesitated. “I, umm.”
“Yes?”
“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to come back some time and let me do some sketches of you? I have a couple of ideas for a new painting and you’d be perfect for it.”
“Seriously?” When Daniel nodded, Griffin smiled. “Sure. Just tell me when—as long as it’s before winter really sets in.”
“How soon will that happen?”
“This is the mountains. It could be snowing in a couple of days, or not for another month. You never know. But it shouldn’t be bad until mid-December.”
“How do you get around when it snows? Not on you bike, I hope.”
“Hey, don’t malign her. She’s very trustworthy unless we get a foot or more of the stuff. At that point I snowshoe.” He grinned, starting out of the studio. “It saves wear and tear on my nerves.”
Daniel followed, saying kiddingly while turning off the lights, “The mighty hunter should have nerves of steel.”
Griffin snorted. “Not on snowy roads. I’ve seen one too many accidents caused by idiots heading to the ski resorts.”
“I’ll have to remember that.”
By then they were back in the living room and Griffin asked, “When would you like me to come back?” as he went to the front door.
“Tomorrow afternoon?”
“How about the day after? I have some things I need to take care of tomorrow.”
“Sure, that works. Around noon?”
“It’s a date. I’ll see you then.”
From the front porch, Daniel watched as Griffin got onto the bike, revved it up, and took off down the lane with a quick, backward wave of his hand. Daniel waved back then went inside, making certain to lock the door after him.
Yawning, because it was almost midnight and he’d been up since seven, Daniel headed up to bed. 3
The next morning, Daniel called to make an appointment to talk to the man who was interested in handing his work at the New Visions gallery in Denver. Mr. Williams asked if he could be there at eleven. Daniel said he could and after hanging up, he changed from the jeans and sweatshirt he was wearing into black slacks and a button-down shirt, being well aware that first impressions were everything, even though he was already an established artist.
The day was cool, with a hint of dampness in the air. Daniel hoped that didn’t presage anything more than rain. He was not ready for snow, although from what Griffin had said, that might be a possibility.
The drive down to the city was easy since it was primarily on the highway. He arrived in plenty of time to find the gallery and a parking place not too far from it. Taking his portfolio with photos of his paintings, including the newest ones, he walked down the street, a bit surprised at how many people were out and about on a weekday morning. But then, it is one of the art districts, so half of them are probably tourists.