"Seriously?" I ask, my voice high-pitched. I blush again, but holy shit. This is exciting! Someone likes my work enough to buy it. I can't stop the grin from spreading across my face.
"Seriously. A few were interested to see if you would have more available. Do you think that's something you'd be comfortable doing? Putting more pieces in the gallery, possibly having a show of your own?" Angelina asks and my jaw drops.
"A show of my own? Whoa," I breathe. "I never imagined that to happen so quickly."
"Your work is beautiful. Your technique is unique. It adds an extra something to the images, to the colors. Your use of light and darkness is flawless. And if I remember correctly, you've had no formal instruction?" she asks.
I shake my head. "No. None. Just school. I've always loved to draw. Then I started with charcoal. Then painting, until I realized I liked oils much better than watercolors." I shrug. "I just fumbled my way through."
"Fumbled, indeed," a deeply masculine voice says.
Angelina smiles. "Tera Mackenzie, this is Dante DiMora, owner of the gallery. Mr. DiMora, this is the extremely talented, Tera Mackenzie."
"It is a pleasure to meet you," Mr. DiMora greets.
I shake his hand and he merely holds mine in between both of his.
"You as well."
"Your work. It is exquisite."
"Thank you," I reply. I guess that's what I could've said to Angelina earlier.
"No, thankyoufor sharing your work with us. Tell me, do you have interest in showing other pieces? Would you be interested in putting some in the New York gallery?" he asks and my head is spinning. Is this really happening?
"I have a lot of completed canvases, but I don't know if they're worthy of being in a gallery. Some are very immature. Others were just for fun. I also have some darker work as well," I rattle off.
"We must see them. Yes?" he asks Angelina.
"Yes, definitely yes," she answers.
"You live near Chicago, yes?" he asks me.
"Yes."
"We can make a trip there, no?" he asks Angelina.
"Of course. I'll check the calendar. Tera—do you mind if I call you Tera?" Angelina prompts.
"No, of course not. I prefer it, actually," I admit. Though, being called Mrs. Mackenzie so often was making my insides all squishy and fluttery.
"Tera should be back to Chicago next week, so maybe the week after?" Angelina suggests. "I'll verify dates and make sure everything works for Tera, too."
"Perfect." He turns to me. "We believe in you, Tera Mackenzie. We'd like to represent your work, to feature it, to show the world your beautiful art."
"It would be an honor, Mr. DiMora." That's putting it mildly. Oh boy. It will be a dream come true.
"Please, call me Dante. We're not big on formalities here unless we don't like you. Then we keep the 'mister'." His smile is forced as he watches a man across the room. "And there is a perfect example. If you'll excuse me, please."
With that, he's striding away in his black suit, white button down shirt, and black and red striped tie. He is truly something to look at, now that my mind works with him so far away. All that dark wavy hair and those rich brown eyes. He would be lovely to paint.
"There's about ten minutes until the scholarship award ceremony begins. If you need to freshen up, feel free to do so."
"Thank you," I tell Angelina and make my way to the restroom. I go about my business and then as I'm washing my hands, I look at myself in the mirror. This is more than I could have ever dreamed of. I imagined school and then the struggle to get someone—anyone to show my work. I'm so blessed. I just… I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry.
I dry my hands then touch up my lipstick. Shea's waiting outside the door.
"You're never going to believe what happened," she gushes.
