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Authors: Lynn Cahoon
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off, claiming he just wasn’t ready. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d driven out here, her hopes high on the drive to Oregon and depressed on the way home. Jesse not only had the artist’s signature on the contract, the man had agreed to do four exclusive projects for the show. Now the two were settling on a theme.
She should feel happy. But all she could see was the gallery slipping away from her. Mike had been clear: there wasn’t a legal leg to stand on for her to challenge her parents’ sale of the gallery. Her grandfather had left the business solely in the hands of his one and only daughter. Not daughter
and
granddaughter. But that’s what she knew her grandpa had wanted. For Main Street to be passed down to her when the time came. That’s why she’d worked so hard to bring in new talent, new buyers. She’d even started a web page for the company. Now Mr. Charming over there would reap the rewards of her hard work, and she’d be relegated down to employee status. Not owner. Her grandfather wanted her to take over the gallery, and she wouldn’t let him down. Not just because Jesse wanted to play artist.
Taylor wasn’t sure if that’s what frustrated her the most—the title. She knew the money wasn’t the issue; she’d been assured her inheritance would be substantial. And if she needed money she could always turn to the trust her grandfather left her. But everything couldn’t be about money, could it? What about family tradition? What about—she searched for the right word—power?
Maybe,
she thought,
maybe I’m worried about losing my status in the art community
. She shook her head and turned back to the two men discussing artwork.
She knew she should participate in the conversation, but she had decided on the way here that Jesse Sullivan needed a taste of what he was buying. She wanted him to feel the pain of trying to sign an artist who so desperately needed to be showcased, only to be turned away. Yet, Jesse hadn’t been turned away. Instead, Marvin had welcomed him like a long lost brother. She wanted to think she’d softened him up the last few years. But it was Jesse who had worked his magic. And she’d have to swallow her pride and let him know he’d done a good, no, great job today. Even if the words choked her like the fast food hamburger they’d be having on the way home.
Jesse looked over at her and smiled, making a thumbs-up gesture when Marvin turned his back. The guy was having fun. And she was the one who set him up for success.
She was doomed.
Thirty minutes later they were on their way back to Boise with Marvin’s portfolio on the back seat.
“So we can set up a show date now and get the paintings shipped?” Jesse asked.
“Not until we finalize the contract. It has to go to Mike, our lawyer, first. He checks out all the legal stuff then sends a formal copy back to Marvin. I guess we’ll have to figure out who is signing—you or my dad. I don’t know if you want to be fettered to a contract you didn’t vet.” She looked at him. “Besides, I did all of the leg work; the contract should be considered my product.”
“I don’t know, he didn’t seem very interested until I started talking. Besides, your lawyer or mine, it’s all the same. They all just want to be paid,” Jesse said. “But you’re right; we probably better decide if this is a pre-sale item or something to happen afterward.” Jesse glanced over at her. “You a betting kind of girl?”
“I don’t understand.” A headache was blooming in the back of her skull. Probably karma for trying to keep Jesse from knowing she was trying to outbid him for the gallery. She never had been a good liar. Taylor reached back and massaged her neck. Maybe an appointment at the spa wouldn’t be a bad idea.
Jesse pulled the car onto the exit ramp leading toward Ontario. Ontario was the first town in Oregon that they’d passed heading in to meet with Marvin. It was the last town in Oregon they
She should feel happy. But all she could see was the gallery slipping away from her. Mike had been clear: there wasn’t a legal leg to stand on for her to challenge her parents’ sale of the gallery. Her grandfather had left the business solely in the hands of his one and only daughter. Not daughter
and
granddaughter. But that’s what she knew her grandpa had wanted. For Main Street to be passed down to her when the time came. That’s why she’d worked so hard to bring in new talent, new buyers. She’d even started a web page for the company. Now Mr. Charming over there would reap the rewards of her hard work, and she’d be relegated down to employee status. Not owner. Her grandfather wanted her to take over the gallery, and she wouldn’t let him down. Not just because Jesse wanted to play artist.
Taylor wasn’t sure if that’s what frustrated her the most—the title. She knew the money wasn’t the issue; she’d been assured her inheritance would be substantial. And if she needed money she could always turn to the trust her grandfather left her. But everything couldn’t be about money, could it? What about family tradition? What about—she searched for the right word—power?
Maybe,
she thought,
maybe I’m worried about losing my status in the art community
. She shook her head and turned back to the two men discussing artwork.
She knew she should participate in the conversation, but she had decided on the way here that Jesse Sullivan needed a taste of what he was buying. She wanted him to feel the pain of trying to sign an artist who so desperately needed to be showcased, only to be turned away. Yet, Jesse hadn’t been turned away. Instead, Marvin had welcomed him like a long lost brother. She wanted to think she’d softened him up the last few years. But it was Jesse who had worked his magic. And she’d have to swallow her pride and let him know he’d done a good, no, great job today. Even if the words choked her like the fast food hamburger they’d be having on the way home.
Jesse looked over at her and smiled, making a thumbs-up gesture when Marvin turned his back. The guy was having fun. And she was the one who set him up for success.
She was doomed.
Thirty minutes later they were on their way back to Boise with Marvin’s portfolio on the back seat.
“So we can set up a show date now and get the paintings shipped?” Jesse asked.
“Not until we finalize the contract. It has to go to Mike, our lawyer, first. He checks out all the legal stuff then sends a formal copy back to Marvin. I guess we’ll have to figure out who is signing—you or my dad. I don’t know if you want to be fettered to a contract you didn’t vet.” She looked at him. “Besides, I did all of the leg work; the contract should be considered my product.”
“I don’t know, he didn’t seem very interested until I started talking. Besides, your lawyer or mine, it’s all the same. They all just want to be paid,” Jesse said. “But you’re right; we probably better decide if this is a pre-sale item or something to happen afterward.” Jesse glanced over at her. “You a betting kind of girl?”
“I don’t understand.” A headache was blooming in the back of her skull. Probably karma for trying to keep Jesse from knowing she was trying to outbid him for the gallery. She never had been a good liar. Taylor reached back and massaged her neck. Maybe an appointment at the spa wouldn’t be a bad idea.
Jesse pulled the car onto the exit ramp leading toward Ontario. Ontario was the first town in Oregon that they’d passed heading in to meet with Marvin. It was the last town in Oregon they
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