The Artist's Granddaughter

Excerpt

Bolts of dislike struck the back of her head, but Megan faced forward, sat straight, felt the collar of her dress scratching the back of her neck. She studied the works of art at the front of the room, ignoring Debbie’s gaze boring into her as if today was just another day here at Carrolton High. Debbie had stopped speaking to her in the tenth grade, and now, thirteen years later, the first time Megan had been back in her old school, the woman was shadowing Megan’s every move.

From the front row of folding chairs, Megan could see every item being auctioned to benefit the school. Most of the framed works were serigraphs and lithographs, but a few were original oil paintings. Granddad’s last oil was framed in painted gold wood, museum-style, and the next to be put on the auction easel. She twisted the sapphire ring on her right hand without looking down.

After an elderly gentleman bought a Civil War sketch, two young boys lifted Granddad’s picture onto the tripod, and the auctioneer gave a brief description of the oils used to paint the rustic cottage on the canvas. The gardens of muted pastel flowers sparkled as if made from crushed opals and emeralds. Of course, the auctioneer didn’t know how warm the man had been who’d so lovingly crafted the piece and carefully signed Delano Roberts in the lower right corner. This was business tonight.

He opened the bidding at eight hundred dollars, which Megan had expected. Her checkbook sat securely in her purse, plumped with the funds she’d been saving for this event. Even though her parents hadn’t left her much in the way of money, she’d done all right for herself, preparing for the day, this day, when she could dramatically reclaim her heritage. Megan’s excitement dimmed a bit when she thought of Granddad, and how much she missed him.

“One thousand,” Megan said, after someone’s bid of nine hundred, and she emphasized the thousand. Her pulse quickened. This piece would be going home with her tonight, no matter how high the bidding went.

“One thousand from the pretty lady with the gold hair.” He paused and listened. “Eleven hundred, do I have twelve? Twelve? Twelve hundred?”

Megan nodded. The auctioneer had pointed to someone behind her again, and Megan turned to look, searching for another elderly person who liked the painting. She wanted to stare him down.

Instead, she gasped. The woman now bidding thirteen hundred dollars was none other than Debbie Grimes, who stood tottering on narrow heels, swinging long dark hair as she tried to outbid Megan.

“Fifteen hundred,” Megan said, loud and clear. Her blood pumped faster and her face warmed. People were whispering behind her back, probably wondering if she’d lost her mind. Debbie had some nerve! Had she somehow figured out why Megan wanted the piece so badly? Could she have that much spite left after all these years?

The portly, bearded auctioneer sweated profusely while he looked back and forth between his competing bidders, clearly unexpected in this small town charity benefit. Megan figured he would rub his greedy little hands together with glee if he didn’t have that wood gavel to play with.

Megan raised her program, showing her bidder number on the back cover, indicating she’d go the two thousand now needed to top Debbie’s last bid. The smell of gym socks pervaded her senses when she tried to take a calming breath, and she could taste the rusty water from the hall fountain as if she’d drank from it yesterday. Sitting even straighter, she glanced Debbie’s way again, and bit her lip when she saw the ice in her old friend’s eyes. Granddad always nagged at her to stop biting that lower lip, but he wasn’t around to do that anymore. So what if no boys—make that men—would notice her if she bit her lip? There were none to notice, anyhow. She could have a good old chomping session if she really got nervous!

Words echoed around the makeshift auditorium and before Megan knew what had hit her, Debbie had bid over four thousand dollars for the painting.

Megan had only five thousand dollars to her name.