Hummingbird Lane by Brown, Carolyn (good books to read for beginners TXT) 📕

an upcoming showing,” Sophie said, “but Em has a couple of small works over there on the bar you might look at. She’s dreamed of painting for these new small houses that folks are building. It’s a brand-new market that you can swoop into on the ground floor if you’re interested.”

Leo stared at the two small paintings and the half-finished one beside them for what seemed like hours; then he shook his head slowly from side to side and turned around to focus on Emma. “Where have you been hiding? How come I’ve never heard of you? These are amazing. I can already name six clients who will be interested in them if I even want to sell them right now. I may hang them in my gallery and tease my customers with them until they are all itching to own an Emma Merrill original.”

“We’re calling them the MM originals,” Sophie said. “Those are the first two that she’s done since she left college more than ten years ago.”

“I just saw the word hope in the cardinal’s feathers. Can we call this the Hope period of MM’s works?” Leo went back to studying the paintings.

“Yes, you can.” Emma had to remind herself that she needed to breathe. She sucked in a lungful of air and wanted to pinch herself to be sure that she was awake.

“So, what are they worth?” Emma asked.

“Honey, I’m an honest man, so I’ll make you a deal. I’ll give you a choice of paying you outright for them or taking them on commission and giving you seventy-five percent of what I can sell them for,” Leo answered.

Emma looked over at Sophie.

“It’s your decision,” Sophie said, “but I’d take the commission thing. If they have a bidding war to get one of your first works, then it could amount to thousands.”

Emma’s eyes grew wide. “Are you kidding me?”

“No, she’s not kidding you one little bit.” Leo pulled a red bandanna from his pocket and wiped his bald head. “You’ve got talent like I haven’t seen in a while, and I love the idea of selling for the new smaller houses people are building. I’ve got a contract out in my truck that we can both sign, and I’ll take pictures of the paintings, print them out, and attach them, so everything is legal. I can’t wait to be known as the guy who discovered you, Miss Em.”

“Then I’ll do what Sophie says,” Emma agreed, “but why do you think they’re that good?”

“Because there’s heart and soul in them,” Leo told her, “just like Sophie’s paintings. I see pain, heartache, and fear, and yet there’s a ray of hope hiding in the background. Folks are going to go crazy for these things.”

“Thank you.” Emma couldn’t help but wonder what her mother would have to say.

Leo stuffed the bandanna back in his pocket. “I sweat when I get excited. When can you have more? I’d like to see half a dozen a month, if that’s possible.”

“When will you be back?” Emma asked, a little proud of herself for having the courage to ask the question.

“I come by here sometime in the middle of the month. Never know what exact day,” he answered as he picked up the paintings as if they were gold.

“I can have six ready to go by then, maybe even seven or eight,” she said.

“That’s great. I’m going to take these to my truck and bring the contract back in,” Leo told her as he headed toward the door.

The second he was outside, Emma plopped down on the sofa and put her hand over her eyes. “If I’m dreaming, don’t pinch me. I don’t want to wake up.”

“I told you that you’re fantastic.” Sophie sat down beside her. “And I’m never wrong about good art.”

“Thousands? For real? For those small canvases?” Emma whispered. “How much . . . no, that’s personal . . .” She frowned.

“Six figures at the very least for each one that I do.” Sophie smiled.

“Who needs oil wells when we’ve got paintbrushes?” Emma giggled. “Answer me truthfully. Am I really awake?”

Sophie draped an arm around her shoulders. “Darlin’, we just proved what I’ve said since we were kids. You are an exceptional artist, and yes, we are awake.”

Josh sat on the porch and watched Leo go into Sophie’s trailer. He remembered the very first drawing that he sold to Leo. It had been a picture of two ring-neck doves with their outspread wings flying above a band of coyotes. Leo had asked to see more of his work right then, and Josh had brought out a piece he had done before he came to the trailer park. That one had a barn in the background and a mare with her colt beside her in the foreground. Leo had bought them both in that moment and asked if he could have more done in a month. Josh didn’t tell him that there were probably twenty in his closet, or that he was producing at least two to three a month. He had just agreed to do more and then fell back onto the sofa the minute Leo left the trailer.

He hoped that Emma was having a similar experience and that Leo echoed all the trailer family’s praise for her works. She needed to hear that even worse than he did back when he moved to the park.

He heaved a sigh of relief when Leo carried the two paintings out to his truck and then took a clipboard with papers back into Sophie’s trailer. Evidently, Leo had seen that Emma was an outstanding artist, just like the family there in the park had realized.

“Hey, Josh.” Leo waved as he started across the yard. “What have you got for me today?”

“Just a couple of things.” Josh stood up and shook hands with Leo. “Come on inside and have a look.”

“I will, but you know I’ll buy anything you produce. I’ve got a waiting list to look at whatever you do. You really should let