his reward, she had to sing the sheep song, complete with the bleating. She sincerely hoped Joe couldn’t hear that.
Once Justin was asleep, she went back downstairs to settle down in front of the computer.
Joe was watching the local news. He glanced over to her. “Checking out colleges for Justin already?”
She turned the screen from him on reflex. She didn’t want him to mock her for trying to take some college classes. But since he’d caught the college logo already, she had to say something.
“It’s an online class.” She swallowed. “For me. Digital photography. Manipulating digital images.”
He raised a questioning eyebrow. “Want to know what it’d be like on the other end of the camera?”
She rubbed her palm over her knee. “Do you think it’s stupid? Modeling is not exactly a steady, long-term occupation. Photography isn’t much better, is it? There’s a reason for the expression starving artist .”
But he didn’t rush to say that she better rethink it. Instead, he said, “If you’re looking to branch out, you could check the Broslin Tourist Board’s website. They have a photo contest each year with some pretty good prize money. And if you win, you might get some commissions for flyers from local businesses. Weather’s supposed to be nice this week. I’ll show you and Justin around. You could snap some pictures. We have art shows twice a year at the high school. You could put up photos there and sell some, maybe.”
Okay, that completely overwhelmed her. “Why do you want to help me?”
“Why wouldn’t I? Not everybody has an agenda, Wendy.”
She nodded uncertainly.
He relaxed back in his seat. “How did you get into modeling?”
God, that seemed like a lifetime ago. “I was discovered in a shopping mall in Upstate New York when I was sixteen. It felt like winning the lottery. I had to move to New York City, everything arranged by the agency.”
“Your parents must have been worried.”
“Oh God. My mother cried her eyes out. But I was living in a dream and talked them into letting me go. What sixteen-year-old doesn’t think that she’s ready for anything?” She flashed a half smile. “They simply didn’t have the energy to fight me. My mother was forty-five when I was born, my father fifty-five. By the time I was a teen, they were planning retirement.”
He nodded. “Mine passed on last year. Dad had colon cancer. Mom died of a broken heart three months later. Her heart just stopped.” His brows furrowed. “She wasn’t even sick.”
Oh. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
He looked toward the window, silent for a moment before turning back to her. “Was modeling as glamorous as you thought it would be?”
And he waited for the response, as if really interested in her, not just being polite about it.
“As glamorous as expected,” she told him, “but more cruel. I was never tall enough, definitely not skinny enough. If a picture doesn’t come out right, it’s always the model’s fault. You’re assumed to be empty-headed and superficial, and definitely easy. Some of the clients routinely came around to ask for dates . Models who declined were struck from the roster with one excuse or the other.”
She shrugged. “What I remember most of the early years was the hunger. I was expected to lose weight. Endlessly. If a model has to drink, do drugs, smoke, or throw up on a regular basis, she’s expected to do it and keep her mouth shut about it. In the world of high fashion, appearance is everything.”
He held her gaze. “That had to be difficult.”
“Early on, I was so dazzled by the city, by the sparkles, I barely noticed anything else. Later….” She pressed her lips together. “Having no voice, no choice in even the most personal things became difficult. Others controlled the color and length of my hair, the makeup I put on, and the clothes I wore.”
Her career had never been her own, not from the moment she’d signed on the dotted line at age
Once Justin was asleep, she went back downstairs to settle down in front of the computer.
Joe was watching the local news. He glanced over to her. “Checking out colleges for Justin already?”
She turned the screen from him on reflex. She didn’t want him to mock her for trying to take some college classes. But since he’d caught the college logo already, she had to say something.
“It’s an online class.” She swallowed. “For me. Digital photography. Manipulating digital images.”
He raised a questioning eyebrow. “Want to know what it’d be like on the other end of the camera?”
She rubbed her palm over her knee. “Do you think it’s stupid? Modeling is not exactly a steady, long-term occupation. Photography isn’t much better, is it? There’s a reason for the expression starving artist .”
But he didn’t rush to say that she better rethink it. Instead, he said, “If you’re looking to branch out, you could check the Broslin Tourist Board’s website. They have a photo contest each year with some pretty good prize money. And if you win, you might get some commissions for flyers from local businesses. Weather’s supposed to be nice this week. I’ll show you and Justin around. You could snap some pictures. We have art shows twice a year at the high school. You could put up photos there and sell some, maybe.”
Okay, that completely overwhelmed her. “Why do you want to help me?”
“Why wouldn’t I? Not everybody has an agenda, Wendy.”
She nodded uncertainly.
He relaxed back in his seat. “How did you get into modeling?”
God, that seemed like a lifetime ago. “I was discovered in a shopping mall in Upstate New York when I was sixteen. It felt like winning the lottery. I had to move to New York City, everything arranged by the agency.”
“Your parents must have been worried.”
“Oh God. My mother cried her eyes out. But I was living in a dream and talked them into letting me go. What sixteen-year-old doesn’t think that she’s ready for anything?” She flashed a half smile. “They simply didn’t have the energy to fight me. My mother was forty-five when I was born, my father fifty-five. By the time I was a teen, they were planning retirement.”
He nodded. “Mine passed on last year. Dad had colon cancer. Mom died of a broken heart three months later. Her heart just stopped.” His brows furrowed. “She wasn’t even sick.”
Oh. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
He looked toward the window, silent for a moment before turning back to her. “Was modeling as glamorous as you thought it would be?”
And he waited for the response, as if really interested in her, not just being polite about it.
“As glamorous as expected,” she told him, “but more cruel. I was never tall enough, definitely not skinny enough. If a picture doesn’t come out right, it’s always the model’s fault. You’re assumed to be empty-headed and superficial, and definitely easy. Some of the clients routinely came around to ask for dates . Models who declined were struck from the roster with one excuse or the other.”
She shrugged. “What I remember most of the early years was the hunger. I was expected to lose weight. Endlessly. If a model has to drink, do drugs, smoke, or throw up on a regular basis, she’s expected to do it and keep her mouth shut about it. In the world of high fashion, appearance is everything.”
He held her gaze. “That had to be difficult.”
“Early on, I was so dazzled by the city, by the sparkles, I barely noticed anything else. Later….” She pressed her lips together. “Having no voice, no choice in even the most personal things became difficult. Others controlled the color and length of my hair, the makeup I put on, and the clothes I wore.”
Her career had never been her own, not from the moment she’d signed on the dotted line at age
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