realized that she and her husband must have been lied to before.
“Yes.” Ashley’s heart raced and she felt the floor fall away. “That’s exactly how they look, and they’re original. Definitely.” She wanted to jump in the air and shout. So what if they had to ask hard questions? She had the answers. Besides, if they were worried about fraud, it could only mean one thing.
They loved her work!
“Well, then—” the woman cleared her throat—“we’d like you to come to the gallery next week sometime and bring the following three pieces.”
She rattled off the titles of three of Ashley’s favorite paintings. Ashley grabbed a pencil and scribbled the information on a piece of scrap paper near the telephone. The whole time she worked to concentrate.
The woman hesitated. “Will that be possible?”
Ashley couldn’t keep the room from spinning. She’d waited years to push ahead with her dream, and now…the news about her family, the idea of the Web site, the contact with dozens of New York galleries. And finally this phone call. Suddenly she realized she hadn’t given the woman an answer and she stifled a giggle. God, you did it. You did all of this. “Yes, of course. I’ll figure out how soon I can be there; then I’ll give you a call.”
“That would be lovely.” The woman’s voice was kinder than before. She gave Ashley directions to the gallery—a small, conservative shop in Manhattan’s Upper West Side, not far from Central Park. “Ask for me at the front desk.”
Ashley promised she would. The doorbell rang just as she hung up. She raced to the entryway, pulled on the handle, and stared wide-eyed at Erin and Sam.
“What is it, Ash? You look scared to death.” Erin opened the screen door and stepped inside. Sam followed her and the two of them waited.
“You won’t believe it!” Ashley took a few steps back and did a little jump-skip across the living room, her fists raised in the air. “I’m taking my paintings to New York City!”
CHAPTER FIVE
J OHN B AXTER RARELY worked nights.
He’d been a doctor in Bloomington for enough years that the younger guys at the office handled the on-call hours. But tonight was different. One of his patients—a man who served alongside John on the elder board at church—had undergone triple bypass surgery two days earlier. The man had been moved from the cardiac unit to intensive care, an upgrade that pleased John. But he wanted to make sure his friend was comfortable.
It was just before seven o’clock when he stepped off the elevator onto the third floor and headed for the nurses’ station. A whiteboard posted on the wall nearby had the names and conditions of each patient in the unit. John glanced at the list and saw that his friend was doing better.
He was about to turn and head down the hall toward the men’s room when something caught his attention. One of the names on the list was Lori Callahan.
Wasn’t that Luke’s girlfriend’s name?
Why in the world would she be in the hospital? And in the intensive care unit, no less. He spun around and met the eyes of one of the nurses behind the counter. “Lori Callahan? Is she a young woman, twenty, twenty-one?”
The nurse studied the whiteboard for a minute. “Yes, I believe so. She’s new to the unit, Doctor. Let me check.” She sorted through a pile of files nearby and found the one she was looking for. “Yes…twenty years old, lives in an apartment off-campus.” The nurse continued to scan the report. “Says here she’s a full-time college student.”
John bristled and took a step backwards. His son was living with a girl who was so ill she was in the intensive care unit at St. Anne’s Hospital, and no one in the Baxter family even knew about it? John was a doctor, after all. He could’ve done something to help the girl if Luke had called.
Things must’ve been worse than John thought, the chasm between Luke and his family wider with every passing hour.
“May I see
“Yes.” Ashley’s heart raced and she felt the floor fall away. “That’s exactly how they look, and they’re original. Definitely.” She wanted to jump in the air and shout. So what if they had to ask hard questions? She had the answers. Besides, if they were worried about fraud, it could only mean one thing.
They loved her work!
“Well, then—” the woman cleared her throat—“we’d like you to come to the gallery next week sometime and bring the following three pieces.”
She rattled off the titles of three of Ashley’s favorite paintings. Ashley grabbed a pencil and scribbled the information on a piece of scrap paper near the telephone. The whole time she worked to concentrate.
The woman hesitated. “Will that be possible?”
Ashley couldn’t keep the room from spinning. She’d waited years to push ahead with her dream, and now…the news about her family, the idea of the Web site, the contact with dozens of New York galleries. And finally this phone call. Suddenly she realized she hadn’t given the woman an answer and she stifled a giggle. God, you did it. You did all of this. “Yes, of course. I’ll figure out how soon I can be there; then I’ll give you a call.”
“That would be lovely.” The woman’s voice was kinder than before. She gave Ashley directions to the gallery—a small, conservative shop in Manhattan’s Upper West Side, not far from Central Park. “Ask for me at the front desk.”
Ashley promised she would. The doorbell rang just as she hung up. She raced to the entryway, pulled on the handle, and stared wide-eyed at Erin and Sam.
“What is it, Ash? You look scared to death.” Erin opened the screen door and stepped inside. Sam followed her and the two of them waited.
“You won’t believe it!” Ashley took a few steps back and did a little jump-skip across the living room, her fists raised in the air. “I’m taking my paintings to New York City!”
CHAPTER FIVE
J OHN B AXTER RARELY worked nights.
He’d been a doctor in Bloomington for enough years that the younger guys at the office handled the on-call hours. But tonight was different. One of his patients—a man who served alongside John on the elder board at church—had undergone triple bypass surgery two days earlier. The man had been moved from the cardiac unit to intensive care, an upgrade that pleased John. But he wanted to make sure his friend was comfortable.
It was just before seven o’clock when he stepped off the elevator onto the third floor and headed for the nurses’ station. A whiteboard posted on the wall nearby had the names and conditions of each patient in the unit. John glanced at the list and saw that his friend was doing better.
He was about to turn and head down the hall toward the men’s room when something caught his attention. One of the names on the list was Lori Callahan.
Wasn’t that Luke’s girlfriend’s name?
Why in the world would she be in the hospital? And in the intensive care unit, no less. He spun around and met the eyes of one of the nurses behind the counter. “Lori Callahan? Is she a young woman, twenty, twenty-one?”
The nurse studied the whiteboard for a minute. “Yes, I believe so. She’s new to the unit, Doctor. Let me check.” She sorted through a pile of files nearby and found the one she was looking for. “Yes…twenty years old, lives in an apartment off-campus.” The nurse continued to scan the report. “Says here she’s a full-time college student.”
John bristled and took a step backwards. His son was living with a girl who was so ill she was in the intensive care unit at St. Anne’s Hospital, and no one in the Baxter family even knew about it? John was a doctor, after all. He could’ve done something to help the girl if Luke had called.
Things must’ve been worse than John thought, the chasm between Luke and his family wider with every passing hour.
“May I see
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