Suddenly in Love (Lake Haven#1) Read Free

first time she’d heard it. More than one instructor had advised her to consider a career in something other than canvas work because she didn’t have the talent necessary to make it. But Mia had worked so damn hard for it, and she knew she’d improved.
    “You should come with me,” Vincent said, his fingers lightly on her arm.
    “What do you mean?” Mia asked August Brockway as she brushed Vincent off.
    Mr. Brockway turned full around and planted his hands on his waist, considering her. “Would you really like to know what I think of your portfolio, Miss Lassiter?”
    No! No, no don’t ask! “Of course I would,” Mia said. Oh God, this was going to hurt. “You’re a renowned artist,” she continued with far more confidence than she was suddenly feeling. “I’m just starting out. I would work really hard for you, Mr. Brockway, and I know I would learn so much. So yes, I would like to know what you think.”
    “I’ve no doubt that you would work hard, Miss Lassiter. You seem very . . . earnest,” he said, his gaze flicking dismissively over her dress. “But I disagree that you would learn much. Your work lacks vision and depth. Breath ? ” he said, gesturing to her portfolio. “That’s the name of your piece? It’s such a fundamentally bad concept that I can’t even begin to critique it.”
    “But I can learn. I—”
    “Your work looks as if you took all your instruction to heart. But you don’t have raw talent or a unique vision that I can see in your work, and I can’t teach that. Either you have it, or you don’t. If you don’t know what your vision is, Miss Lassiter, your work will always appear to the world as it did to me—sophomoric.”
    Well there was a dagger right through the center of her heart, plunged so deeply that it was a miracle Mia didn’t sprawl right there onto his drop cloths in a pool of tears and snot and blood.
    “But I will say this—your use of color is very good,” he said. And with that, he turned and walked out of the room.

    Mia had no idea how she got out of there. Had Vincent thrown her out, or had she crawled out? She remembered being on the train, staring at the ad across from her of a handsome man with shaving cream all over his face. She remembered slowly realizing that Mr. Brockway was right. His delivery sucked, but he was right . He’d hit the nail on the head, had zeroed in on the thing that had nagged at Mia for a very long time, but she hadn’t been able to name. Her work had no clear vision, no real point of view. It was what her professors called “needs improvement” and “let’s work on what message you’re trying to convey.” She tried one idea after the next, never finding that common thread in her body of work. Her subjects were run of the mill.
    He was right—she didn’t have what it took to be a working, viable artist. It was so unfair! Her love of art was what ran through her veins. She couldn’t keep the desire out of her. She couldn’t not create.
    Mia was so shaken that she didn’t notice her landlady until she almost collided with her. Mrs. Chalupnik was standing in the entry hall with one thick arm across her body, holding her threadbare bathrobe closed.
    “Oh, hi, Mrs. Chalupnik.” She put her head down and tried to scoot past. She was on the verge of a meltdown and didn’t have time to chat.
    “The check, it’s no good,” Mrs. Chalupnik said, waving a paper at Mia with her free hand.
    Mia’s step slowed. “What?”
    “Your rent check is no good!” Mrs. Chalupnik said, only louder. “It comes back with insufficient funds !”
    Mia felt a horrible twist of impending doom. “That’s impossible!” she cried, and took the paper, staring at it. How was that possible?
    “Now you owe me two hundred dollars on top of rent,” Mrs. Chalupnik said. “You have until Friday.”
    “But I can’t get it by Friday,” Mia said. Her head was reeling. “There has to be some mistake. I’m very careful about