Page 62 of Close Up

A figure dressed as a deliveryman, cap pulled down low over his eyes, lounged in the shadows of a narrow walkway on the far side of the busy plaza. He turned and disappeared down the flagstone path but not before Nick had marked the air of elegant ennui that did not belong to a man who made his living with his hands.

“Got you,” Nick said softly.

Rex looked up at him and grinned.

Chapter 30

Of course I remember you, Miss Brazier.” Joan Ashwood smiled. “We met at the Kempton Gallery exhibition in Adelina Beach several months ago. You had two excellent landscapes on display. They both had sold tags on them.”

Joan was middle-aged with the patrician demeanor of a woman who had been born to sell art to those who could afford the best but didn’t trust their own judgment. She had been surprised when Vivian had walked through the door but her welcome had been gracious.

She probably thinks I’m going to try to talk her into displaying some of my pictures. Which is exactly what I’m hoping to do.

“Yes, that’s right.” Vivian relaxed a little. “A hotel in Adelina Beach picked them up to display in the lobby. They were my first two art sales.”

And so far, my only two art sales.But she did not say that aloud.

“Are you on vacation or did you come to Burning Cove to take photos?” Joan asked.

“I’m here to relax but I’ve got my camera with me. I’m hoping to get some good landscapes. The coastline is very scenic.”

“If you want my advice, forget the landscapes. Ansel Adams has the corner on that market.”

Vivian sighed. “You aren’t the first gallery owner to give me that advice.”

“Anyone with a camera and some luck with the weather can get a good landscape shot,” Joan said. “You know the famous Eastman Kodak slogan.”

“‘You press the button, we do the rest.’”

“I fear that will become increasingly true in the future.”

“Landscape photos are not my favorite genre but I thought it was a good place to start.” Vivian tightened her grip on her portfolio. “Lately I’ve been working on a new series, however. Something quite different.”

Joan glanced at the leather portfolio. “I assume you brought some examples with you?”

“Ever had an artist walk into your gallery without some samples of his or her work?”

Joan chuckled. “No, and that’s fine by me. I’m always interested. Let me see what you’ve been doing.”

Vivian opened the portfolio and removed two pictures, both male nudes. She placed them on the counter.

“I’m calling the series Men,” she said. “Eventually there will be twelve photographs. Each will focus on a different aspect of how men are perceived in our modern world. I want the viewer to question their own assumptions about what it means to be perceived as male. To rethink the very meaning of manhood.”

She stepped back and held her breath, waiting for a reaction.

Joan reached for her glasses, slipped them on, and studied the photographs with a sharp gaze. She looked at them for a very long time. Vivian’s heart sank. She braced herself for a lecture on the difference between pornography and art.

Joan finally removed her glasses and set them aside. Intense satisfaction glittered in her eyes.

“Oh, yes,” she said softly. “I can sell these. They are riveting. You invite the viewer to question assumptions and roles but at the same time there is a startling intimacy and sensuality in these figures. Amazing.”

Vivian managed to breathe again. Euphoria sparked through her.

“I’m glad you like them,” she said, trying to sound cool and casual.

“I’ll need limited editions. Let’s say sixteen of each. Large size. Thirty inches by forty inches would be ideal. The bigger pictures make more of an impression. Usual contract terms. Oh, and I’ll want an exclusive on these images for the duration of the contract.”

“Certainly.” Vivian struggled to conceal her excitement. “I’ll print and mat the pictures for you as soon as I can set up a new darkroom.”

---