House of the Blue Sea Read Free Page B

shake his hand again? No, they’d done that—twice. Just smile, Sandra. Smile and go back to your work.
    “See you Tuesday then. Enjoy your day.” He gave a nod, turned and descended the stairs.
    She was such an idiot around anyone remotely celebrity. Mark Jeffery. Wow. Paul hadn’t mentioned he had such a famous friend—probably worried his female guests would be clamouring for an introduction. Sandra had first seen him in a period TV drama twenty years before. He had every woman who watched it falling for those dark eyes and unruly locks. Admittedly, he looked a bit different today, more vagrant than movie star. She couldn’t recall what she’d seen him in last. It had been a few years.
    But, right now, a painting to finish, and a pre-sold one at that. She dabbed her brush into the blue-green paint she’d mixed earlier and held it up to the canvas. “I wonder if he’d prefer the water more dramatic or kept as a backdrop?” Sandra mumbled to herself. The brush hovered over the sea, not sure where to touch down.
    As the brush continued to hang in mid-air, she was reminded why she didn’t sell her work.
    Maybe a swim.
    ***
    “M ark Jeffery? Are you serious?” Trisha’s face looked up at Sandra from the screen of the laptop. She was Sandra’s neighbour and closest friend, and a big fan of video Skype.
    “Quite. He walked right up behind me and offered to buy the painting I was working on. I didn’t recognize him at first, but yes, Mark Jeffery.”
    “What did you say? What did you do?” Trisha’s grey eyes were large as she leaned closer to the camera.
    “Well, let’s see, I blurted out a few stupid words, forgot to let go of his hand when I’d finished shaking it, and I think my jaw may have dropped. So, all in all, I made quite an impression.”
    “I’m sure you did fine. You’re always so hard on yourself.”
    “You weren’t there, and just because you would have handled the situation flawlessly doesn’t mean a normal person would.”
    Trisha seemed fearless in even the most daunting of situations. She claimed that growing up in a household with four older brothers was the source of her feistiness.
    “And so, did you sell it to him?”
    “It isn’t finished, so he’s coming back on Tuesday to see the final product and decide.”
    “Clever ...” Trisha’s digitized face nodded with raised eyebrows, her curly mane bouncing. “... getting him to come back.”
    “I was far from clever during that exchange, simply not finished. I’m not even sure I want to sell it to him, to be honest.”
    “Okay, I understand your reluctance to hold a full show in my gallery, but a rich and famous man wants to buy a painting you haven’t even finished and you’re not sure? I don’t get you, Sandi.” Trisha was one of those people who gave everyone a nickname. She’d never gone by her full name and didn’t seem to think anyone should.
    “He’s offered me $1,400 US. Is that a fair price?”
    “Fair? For an unfinished piece by an unknown artist? Unless it’s the size of a bus I’d say he’s being more than generous. So, enough about art, tell me about him ? Is he as gorgeous as he is in his films?”
    “That’s the thing, not really, at least he wasn’t today. If I’d passed him on the street I might have thought he was an old rummy. His clothes looked like they`d been pulled out of a hamper and there was wine spilled down the front of his shirt ... at least I think it was wine since he smelled like he’d been soaking in the stuff. And, I hate to say it but he’s a bit ... well ... heavy.”
    “Fat? Oh lord, don’t tell me that, not my Mr. Rochester!” Trisha had loved him in a BBC mini-series of Jane Eyre .
    “Well, not fat exactly, but a bit ... you know ... thick around the middle. His voice and smile were all I recognized, and the smile was largely hidden behind this scruffy hedge of a beard. He said it was his hiding-out-in-Mexico look but the booze smell makes me think it’s more