Page 12 of Hard to Love
“Maybe you’re supposed to master something besides art.”
“Like what?” Greer laughed to cover up the discomfortDelaney’s easy statement was causing in her midsection. “Art’s always been my thing. But these days, I don’t feel that spark when I walk into my own showroom, into my own studio. Nothing there seems as important as what you do at PBC.”
“Your art co-op helps diversify the economy here. Just like the Sandstone, Bostick’s, and Sweetwater. You should be proud of that.”
“How do you feel when you sketch a baby’s prophecy boots?” Her attention narrowed on Delaney’s face. “When you touch thread and leather?”
An expression of joy and purpose lit Delaney from deep inside. “Powerful, grateful, passionate.”
Did glassblowing make Greer feel anything close to that? Realization hit her, a sharp jab right in the heart. “That’s it,” she breathed. “I want something that fills me with passion.”
Delaney’s eyes went wide, and she stopped so suddenly Greer was reeled back with her. “What about the festival?”
“What about it? It did what we needed it to. Raised a little cash, reestablished Prophecy Boot Company, and brought a trickle of tourism back to town.”
“And who organized that whole thing?”
“Well, we all pitched in—”
“Don’t try to do that good Southern girl thing and spread the credit around. You made that festival a success. No one else could’ve pulled it off. You have what it takes to make a huge impact on Prophecy’s economic recovery.”
Oh, God. But PBCwasProphecy. Wasn’t it? How could she create something that would be as important as Prophecy Boot Company?
An idea bloomed in her mind. One that knocked the breath out of her like the time one of Mr. McCormick’sgoats butted her in the chest.
The whole point behind that festival had been to show the rest of the world that Prophecy had something to offer besides the boots. But most of those vendors had come from other places around the state. What if…
“Okay, so the festival was a success overall, but some booths, those where the artisans were demonstrating their techniques, got way more traffic than the others.”
“I noticed that too.”
A bubbly feeling rose through Greer’s body and words rushed out of her. “Which means festival attendees were interested in the artists’ process. Those vendors sold more too.”
“Hmm…I’ll have to remember that for the boot shop. Maybe move the counter so customers have a better view into the workshop area.”
“Better yet, invite them into the workshop.” Grabbing Delaney’s hands, she danced in a circle, pulling her along. “The artists who’re willing to let people look over their shoulders, who’re willing to share and talk and teach, they’re creating a personal connection with their buyers. And that connection will bring people back again and again.”
“You might be onto something.”
“My place wouldn’t be big enough even if I sold off all my glass-blowing equipment.”
“Big enough for what?”
“Have you ever heard of Campbell or Penland?”
“The folk art and crafts schools?”
“Two of the best in the US. Both in North Carolina, but there are none like them in Texas.” She dropped Delaney’s hands and let the vision take over. Classes, demonstrations, busy artists, happy visitors. “If I could create somethinglike that…”
“It would be amazing.”
Yeah, but there was a reason it wasn’t realistic for her to even contemplate. Those effervescent bubbles popped, leaving Greer feeling flat. “Those places are huge, with acreage and multiple studios.”
“I bet both of those folk schools started out much smaller than they are now.” Delaney’s smile was sincere and totally supportive. “Remember, good things are built one brick at a time.”
Once Delaney headed backto the boot shop, Greer meandered from the park toward Guadalupe Street, still pondering the expanded festival concept. Last she’d heard, one of her photography professors from UT was doing a sabbatical and spending his time at Penland. Wouldn’t hurt to give him a holler.
She was almost to her small studio when she spotted a man perched on one of the benches her brother had carved for the downtown area. This was Greer’s personal favorite, the back intricately styled to look like a field of bluebonnets. And the guy—well, she had a feeling he was pretty complex too. Which might not bode well for PBC, since Delaney was already in love with Alex’s work.
