by Sherry Kyle
Anna nibbled her lower lip, questioning her decision. She painted scenes, not portraits. And now she’d possibly ruined what could’ve been her best landscape to date. Of course, at this point the drawing could be of anyone since the man’s features were unrecognizable. Anna rose from the wood bench and called to him.
“Sir, would you like to see the painting?” The timbre of her voice was eager, hopeful.
Without uttering a sound, he strode the few paces toward her.
Anna gestured to the artwork clipped to the easel. Would he appreciate the portrayal and offer to buy the piece?
He looked at the painting and pulled his trouser pockets inside out in an exaggerated fashion. “I don’t have any money. You’ll have to sell it to some other bloke who can give you spare change.”
Spare change, indeed! Had he mistaken her for a peddler of cheap wares, rather than an artist? Her face heated. Or maybe he purposely chose to hurt her feelings because of his foul mood. Obviously, this man didn’t understand art nor did he know how to speak kindly to a woman.
“It isn’t for sale.” Anna’s voice wavered. She cleared her throat and straightened her spine. “I thought you might enjoy seeing yourself in the painting is all.”
His eyes widened. He leaned forward for a closer view, and pointed to the image. “You mean to tell me the simple brown form on the beach is me?”
“Why, yes. Don’t you see the way I captured the slump of your shoulders and the weariness in your stance?” Two could play at this game.
In his bent position, he cocked his head her way, and then stood to his full height. Lines etched his forehead. “My lady, if you’d had the day I’ve had, you’d be sympathetic to my plight.”
Anna brought her hands to her slender hips. “And what plight might that be?”
The man’s lips tightened. “Today was to be my wedding day, but it appears my bride has discovered a new love—my cousin. As you can see by my suit, I’ve come directly from the church. So, if you’ll excuse me, I plan to wallow in my misfortune and forget that the worst day of my life was captured in a watercolor painting.” He tipped his hat and strode away.
Anna fingered the lace on the neckline of her dress.
Poor man! Being jilted at the altar was by far the highest form of humiliation. Unrequited love was the precise reason she chose never to marry. She didn’t have time to waste on such things.
Her father had held a charity party in her honor only a few weeks ago. Eligible men had filled her dance card hoping she would be ready for marriage in the not-too-distant future, but Anna had her one true passion on her mind—painting beautiful landscapes. Her father wasn’t happy when she turned down Henry’s proposal, or the fact that she’d rather spend time with paintbrush in hand, but he finally agreed to give her six months to sell her artwork. Otherwise she was to return to San Francisco, marry her father’s business partner, and forget her dream.
Right now she’d do about anything to make ends meet, even be a nursemaid to the two rambunctious Chesterfield boys. She would never crawl back to Henry and her father. Never! Even it if meant sleeping under a tree.
Watercolor Dreams is available as a print, Kindle, or audio book.
