The Green Lace Corset, стр. 10
“I doubt that.”
“Many are stuck in traditional genres, like painting, ceramics, or sculpture, and are trying to break out. I’ve been able to help them there. I’ve connected them with Fay, and she’s even putting some of their pieces in Gallery Noir’s next group show.”
“When’s the reception?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll let you know. I also applied for that artist-in-residence program.”
“Splendido. I’m sure you’re a shoe-in. Get it?”
“That’s enough with the shoe jokes for one call.”
“Tell me more about your trip.”
“I can’t believe how beautiful it is there. And the sky! The sky is to die for. Brilliant blue, with fluffy clouds. And the stars. Did you know Flagstaff was the first International Dark Sky Community, with regulations limiting lights so you can see the stars? I saw the Milky Way every night. And all that other nature, and arts and culture. Wouldn’t it be great to go there together someday?” She put her hand to her chest. She couldn’t believe she’d just said that.
“I’d really love that.” His dark brown eyes softened. “Discover any found treasures?”
She glanced at the corset, still hanging on the back of the closet. Like magic, it sparkled in the overhead light, and she swore the scent of sage filled the room. She wanted to show it to Sergio, but he might think she was being suggestive. They were broken up this time for good.
Oh, what the heck. She turned her phone toward the closet and pointed it at the corset. “Only this.”
He raised his voice. “Oh là là! I can’t wait to see it on you.”
How could she flirt with him like this? Anne flipped the phone back to her face. “Sergio, I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to tease you like that. We’re broken up. We have to be broken up.”
He sighed. “I know. Can we get together, though? I’m coming out really soon on business. I want to see you in person.”
She hesitated. “I guess so. Check in with me then. But I won’t wear the corset.”
He laughed. “Are you sure?”
“Bye.” Once she hung up, she silenced her ringer. After talking to him, she missed him all the more. It would be wonderful to see him in person, but she really needed to move on.
How would she ever meet someone new? Some of her friends had had luck with sites like Zoosk, Match.com, and even Tinder, but she didn’t see herself as the online-dating type. What she wanted was a serious relationship and to find her real soul mate. She’d thought Sergio was hers, but, sadly, he wasn’t.
Anne needed to get back to her art. “Alexa, play Enya.”
Enya’s ethereal voice filled the apartment. Anne closed her eyes, breathed in and out, and felt her heart open as she returned to her mosaic. She centered an old-fashioned ceramic farm girl in an antique tray and placed an Irish setter beside her. She put a chipped, blue-and-white Wedgwood plate in a paper bag on a cutting board and smashed it with a hammer. She dumped out the shards and used the smooth-rimmed edges along the tray’s border.
From the baggie of found objects, she selected a key, an old watch, and a gold sun charm and placed them around the girl. She added gray, blue, and green stones from the Painted Desert Museum, and multicolored seed beads for grout.
She thought wistfully about her conversation with Sergio again. She needed some serious mojo to help her move on. The horseshoe dry, she shook the loose seed beads off it, made sure to hang it the correct way, and nailed it to the wall in the relationship corner of her apartment, which also happened to be her bathroom. She kissed her pointer finger and touched the heart on the horseshoe. She’d take it down to use as a sample at the museum when she got the other horseshoes and was ready to introduce the lesson. But for now, she’d let the chi flow toward a new man.
Back in the kitchenette, she brushed loose beads off the tray piece and grinned as the ceramic girl emerged. Anne called it A Time to Cast Away Stones, after Ecclesiastes. With it, she was casting Sergio away and, she hoped, gathering another lover soon.
As if on cue, Howard, her old friend from her valet-parking days, sent her a text: Rhinestone Ruby’s tonight?
That would be the perfect place to meet a new man.
8
A burly man in a long leather coat studied them as they exited the train. Cliff tugged his hat low over his eyes, took Sally Sue’s arm in his, and drew her in the opposite direction. Her instincts told her to scream, kick him in the shins, and run away, but she feared he’d pull out his gun and shoot her.
A sign attached to the front of a rusted-out boxcar facing her said FLAGSTAFF. A cold wind hit her. Under a cloudy sky, nearby pine trees were covered with snow, and to the north, white-peaked mountains rose high above. She wondered what it would feel like to be way up there. A hawk flew overhead. She wished she was free like it was.
They crossed a wide road away from the tracks, and she stumbled into a puddle of melting snow. The muddy ground sopped her skirt’s hem and soaked her favorite shoes clear through to the toes. Cliff led her down a street filled with ramshackle buildings that looked like they’d been put up really fast. Most were wooden, but others were even made of tent canvas. They passed the white-painted church with the tall steeple she’d seen from afar.
At McMillan’s Mercantile, a pair of dungarees, bolts of fabric, and tools were expertly arranged in the window. Sally Sue’s spirits soared when she spotted Cliff’s WANTED poster, with its $500 reward, displayed prominently on the glass in front of the items. She felt certain someone would capture him soon. But then Cliff tilted his head toward the poster and grinned at her and she realized nobody