Love at Large (6 page)

“Clay sculptures,” Darby said, her cheeks growing red.

“What, dear?”

“Clay sculptures. I don’t work in ceramics.”

“Of course.” Sylvia giggled. Darby winced at the sound. “Silly me. Well, people like that sort of thing.”

“Yes, but I doubt they’d be willing to pay what I charge for an acrylic or a sculpture.”

“Well, they don’t seem to want to pay for these fractures, either. Such a pity.” Sylvia’s expression was one of compassion for the downtrodden.

“Fractals,” Darby said.

“What?” Sylvia didn’t wait for a reply. “I have a suggestion, dear. Next year perhaps some pretty little landscapes, or pictures of flowers. Everyone loves flowers.”

Oh, bite me.
Darby thought. She fumed in silence. Sylvia, perhaps sensing that the conversation had run its course, sailed away like some great ocean barge. The long silk-screened scarf she wore looped around her neck billowed in her wake like a flag in the wind.

“There will be
no
next year,” she said with firm resolve.

“As cheerful as ever, I see.” The familiar voice grabbed Darby’s attention.

“Hey, Nathan.” She stood to hug her sixteen-year-old brother.

“I gather old ‘sobersides Sylvia’ is the reason for that black cloud snapping lightning over your head.”

Darby laughed a great belly laugh that had the vendors at the surrounding tables looking at her. “I’m glad you’re here, little brother. I’m bored to tears, and there’s still an hour to go.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t stay,” he said. “I’m off to soccer practice, but Mom wanted me to tell you she expects you at dinner tonight, and won’t take no for an answer.”

“Yeah, like I’d have a choice.”

As strong willed as she was, she couldn’t rival the original…her mom. Mrs. Marshall ruled her home and family with an iron fist in a velvet glove, and her family adored her. Darby chuckled and shook her head. It looked like she’d be dining with her family.

She stood up to straighten her table, pausing here and there to run a critical eye over the display. Overall, she was satisfied. The fractals were bright and new, and that excited her. She enjoyed the unpredictability of the medium, the surprises that appeared each time a fractal was rendered.

She had worked hard for what she had and was now lucky to have reached a point at age twenty-seven where she could demand respectable prices for her work and make a decent living. She had several of her acrylics and sculptures in galleries, even the prestigious Griffith gallery. The fractals, she was sure, would be just as successful once they caught on. She needed to arrange a showing to introduce them to the art buying public. But until then, this craft show was the gallery and the locals, her customers.

She looked up and caught Sylvia’s eye across the hall. The older woman waved. Darby plastered a tight smile on her face. This was not the venue for her work, that was for sure.

She had just settled herself back in her chair when a man walked up to her table. He was an ordinary looking sort, yet something about him captured Darby’s interest. Perhaps it was the intensity with which he examined each fractal on her table. Or maybe it was the quiet confidence apparent in his posture. She sensed that here was someone who appreciated and understood art. Though he wore wire-framed glasses and looked comfortable in black slacks and a blue checked short-sleeved shirt, she could easily imagine him in a business suit, headed to an office.

“Nice work.” He continued to scrutinize each piece on display. He lifted up a piece she called ‘Lace Corset’, a Victorian inspired garment in gold on a purple background. She liked it because the corset looked full-figured. She noticed that he smiled when he viewed the name.

“Thank you.” Darby was both relieved and energized that someone was at last taking genuine notice of her work.

“What’s the medium? I can’t seem to tell. Is it watercolor?”

She chuckled. “They’re fractals. I created them on the computer using a mathematical equation as my starting point. Once the image was generated, I did a little manipulating until I got a composition that pleased me. There’s a stylized feel to the work that I like. I mean, that one doesn’t look exactly like a Victorian corset, but the impression is there.”

“Interesting,” the man said, giving her a warm smile that caused her pulse to flutter. She was finding it hard to think straight.

“Then I printed it on my inkjet printer, using a special watercolor paper that absorbs the ink and allows it to bleed slightly, creating the watercolor effect you notice.”

The man looked up, and Darby got her first good look at his face. It was a nice face, and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes bespoke a sense of humor. Intelligence shone from his warm brown eyes. He was smiling, and the way he leaned in so close to her made her feel as if he had a genuine interest in what she had to say. Her pulse began to speed up.

“Is there anything that can’t be done on computers anymore?” He stroked a thoughtful finger along the frame of the piece.

“It seems that way doesn’t it?” She noted that he was about five foot ten, her height, and a little soft around the middle, built to use his brain, not his brawn. He was the type that was usually described as a teddy bear…soft and cuddly. She felt a flush rise to her cheeks at the notion of cuddling up to this stranger. She hoped he didn’t notice. She stuck out her hand. “I’m Darby Marshall.”

His handshake was firm, and Darby felt his grip long after their hands had parted. “Martin…Thomas. Nice to meet you, Darby.” He scanned the rest of the room. “This doesn’t seem like the best venue for your type of art.”

“I agree. But it’s a way to get my work out there. It’s also a favor to my parents’ neighbor.”

“Darby dear.”

“Speak of the devil.” She jerked her head at Sylvia as the older woman once again sailed up to her table.

With a perfunctory nod to Martin, Sylvia began her oral assault. “You haven’t made a single sale all day, have you?” Sylvia’s loud clear voice was in contradiction to her conspiratorial body language. “Poor thing. I hope you’re not too disappointed.”

“Of course not, Sylvia,” Darby gritted her teeth. “There’s nothing better I like to do with my Saturdays than—”

“Actually, she
has
made a sale.” Martin feigned innocence at Darby’s incredulous stare.

“Oh?” Sylvia said. Darby could swear she sounded almost disappointed. “How nice.”

“Yes,” Martin continued. He held up Strawberries and Cream and the Victorian Corset. “I’ll take these two, Darby, and I’ll let you know on that other one.”

“Okay.” In her shock, she nearly choked on the word.

“Oh wonderful.” Sylvia’s voice was tinted with sarcasm. “Your first sale. That’s so lovely for you.” She then drew in a long breath in preparation to hoist sail and move off. “Now I’ll certainly have to make sure you have a table again next year.”

“Over my dead body,” Darby said to her retreating back. She then turned at the sound of Martin’s low rumble of laughter and found that she really liked it. “Thanks for that.”

“My pleasure. I objected to how that woman was condescending toward you. Besides, I really like your work, and I do want these two pieces.”

Darby felt flushed with pleasure. “Really? You don’t have to buy them. I mean, don’t feel obligated.”

“I’m not doing this out of any reason other than liking your work.”

“I’m flattered,” Darby said. “Thank you.”

Martin opened his wallet and counted out the bills.

“Would you possibly be interested in teaching someone how to do this?”

“Well, I do teach some art classes.” With crisp efficiency, she counted the money and wrote out a receipt. “I’ve never thought of teaching a fractal class, but I suppose I could. Are you interested?”

“Well, yes. It would be a nice change from my regular work. Besides, I’d like to get to know the teacher a bit better.”

Darby blushed for real this time. A brief flash of shyness made her hands shake as she handed him a business card and his fractals wrapped in protective layers of newspaper. “That’s my email and phone. Call me this evening, and we can set up some initial classes.”

He took the card and waved it. “Thanks. I will.” He tucked the card in his shirt pocket, gathered his new artwork under his arm and prepared to leave. “And thank you for your wonderful art. I’ll really enjoy these. ‘Til tonight. Bye, Darby.”

“Bye…Martin”

Her smile widened as she watched him leave. She had a little extra spring in her step as she began packing up her table. She went over her conversation with Martin. He had been so kind and funny. It was obvious he was financially comfortable to drop $200.00 on her work. And he had flirted with her. He wanted to get to know her better? Well, the feeling was definitely mutual. She was flushed and energized, ready to take on…well, even Sylvia, if she had to.

Darby picked up the last fractal that Martin had set down on the table. She held it to her chest and smiled, reviewing every word he had spoken in his low-pitched voice.

Something about him had really attracted her, and it wasn’t just his interest in her art or his gallant rescuing of her from Sylvia’s onslaught. No, there was something about Martin—some intangible thing that had Darby very, very intrigued.

The dinner with her family turned into a celebration of sorts, thanks to the charming man who had set Darby’s pulse to racing. She decided to ask Nathan to come over if or when Martin came for his lesson. Although she was sure Martin was a nice guy, he was a stranger, and she was smart enough to be cautious.

She got home later than she intended, replete from her mom’s hearty beef stew, and found the ‘message waiting’ light blinking on her phone. Her fingers shook a little as she punched in her code and her heart sped up just a bit in anticipation of hearing Martin’s voice.

“Hello, Darby. It’s Martin Thomas.”

Such a nice voice.

“Call me back, and we’ll set up my fractal classes. My number is 555-3069. I can’t wait to get started.”

Darby was sure she detected an extra measure of warmth in his words. Her fingers couldn’t move fast enough to punch out his number.

“Hello?”

She closed her eyes and drank in the deep sexy tone of his voice. “Um—hi. Martin?”

At his affirmative, she plunged on. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here when you called. I was hoping to hear from you and well, here you are.” She cringed at how silly she sounded. She heard Martin chuckle.

“Indeed,” he said. “I’m sitting here looking at your wonderful pictures. I’m so glad I decided to stop in at the craft show—for many reasons.”

Darby’s breath caught in her throat. She swallowed.

Neither spoke for a moment, and she felt pressed to fill the void. “You asked about classes, and I wondered when you’d like to begin.” The sound of light laughter filtered through the phone and caressed her ear.

“That,” he replied, “I suppose, depends on you. My schedule is pretty much wide open at the moment.”

“What about tomorrow?” She said, quicker than she meant to. “I mean, unless you spend Sunday with your wife and family or work, or something.”

“No. I’m not married, and I don’t work on Sundays. What time would be good for you?”

“How about around one?”

“Sounds good to me. I have your address on your card so I’ll see you then. Goodnight, Darby.”

“Goodnight, Martin.”

She hung up the phone, hugged herself, and whooped. The sound rang out in the silence of the late hour, and she did a little jig, feeling giddy.

Tossing and turning through the night, Darby’s dreams were filled with a kind, smiling face telling her over and over how he really liked her work…and her. Even with the less than restful sleep, Darby awoke refreshed and eager to start her day. She called Nathan to let him know when to come.

By the time Martin was set to arrive, Darby had straightened her apartment, and prepared coffee and blueberry muffins. She looked in the full-length mirror one more time taking stock of her assets, and was pleased with what she saw—a tall, soft, curvaceous woman with sparkling eyes and a bright smile. She ran her fingers through her curly auburn hair, and brushed imaginary wrinkles from her hunter green dress. She hoped Martin would like what he saw also. Her stomach was in knots, and she paced to try to expend some of the nervous energy. When the doorbell chimed, she nearly jumped from her skin.

It turned out to be Nathan.

“Hi, sis,” he said and moved into the living room. He dropped his laden backpack and headed into the kitchen. “Anything to eat? Oh cool, muffins.”

“Don’t you dare,” Darby called, following him. “I made those for Martin.” She scowled at Nathan’s saucy grin. “Never you mind. There’s plenty of food in the fridge. And if that’s not suitable, you can order yourself a pizza. And this is business, so just do your homework or watch TV, and don’t be a pest.”

“Sure, sis,” he said with another cocky grin, and then turned his attention to the contents of the fridge.

Darby smiled and shook her head. At that moment the doorbell rang again, and Darby’s heart skipped a beat.