Read Online The Soul of the Rose by Ruth Trippy - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Ruth Trippy
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We’re going to choose one to be framed for the store.”
“May I see?”
“Of course. Look at this one, a country lane with the pruned trees. It’s most unusual.”
Mrs. Smith gazed at the picture. “Oh my, I don’t think I’ve ever seen the like. Strange, isn’t it?”
“Yes, the subject is very different.” Celia looked up to see Mr. Chestley rounding the bookcase.
He stopped by her side. “Celia, I was waiting to hear your reaction on that one. The French countryside in winter. We don’t prune our trees in that drastic fashion, do we, Mrs. Smith?”
“I should say not. The picture looks sad. I can’t abide anything sad since I lost my husband.”
Mr. Chestley glanced at Celia. “What do you think of it?”
“It is stark, yet there’s beauty in the starkness. But a bit of hominess, too. The little cottage at the end of the lane with its lone cow conjures up a picture of a family living a simple life, maybe eking out a living. The colors and subject of the piece do complement each other.”
“So you like it?
“I find it intriguing. Something about it stirs me.”
Mr. Chestley smiled his approval. The bell jangled again. “Ah, Mrs. Adams. Welcome this fine day. Would you come here and give your opinion of this most unusual print?”
“Of course.” She walked over to the group and looked at the picture. “My! What are you going to do with it?”
“Well, nothing right now. I’m just getting various people’s opinions.”
“If you must know, I think it’s most strange. Not at all beautiful. I don’t see how anyone would want to purchase that.”
Celia looked at her. She was rather surprised a woman who loved flowers, didn’t see some redeeming quality in the picture.
“You and Mrs. Smith agree on that,” said Mr. Chestley. “We have other prints here. I’m going to choose one to frame for our bookstore.” He turned to Celia. “Before I send them back to Boston, why don’t we show them at our next book discussion, and see if anyone else wants to purchase one for framing. I’m thinking particularly of Mr. Ellis at the jewelry shop.”
“The viewing might draw in a few more people to the discussions. Shall I work up notices to post around town?”
“An excellent idea.”
“I doubt if many will find this French winter scene appealing.” Celia held the print up again. “Yet, I’m glad I can look at it before it’s returned.”
“Now you see the advantages of being my assistant? You never know what might come your way.” Mr. Chestley nodded to the other ladies. “Would you like to see the rest of them? If so, when you’re finished, tell me which one you’d like for our bookstore.”
Mrs. Adams declined, saying she wanted to find a certain book.
A few minutes later, Celia saw Mrs. Smith walk to Mr. Chestley’s office while she was helping Mrs. Adams with the purchase of her book. “You said you wanted to start reading this today?”
“Yes! For once, I have almost nothing to do. I’m especially interested in it as Mrs. Harrod said it was one Mr. Lyons particularly favored.”
Just then, Mrs. Smith approached the counter. “Well, I made my choice, so I believe I’m about ready to go. You leaving, Mrs. Adams? If you’re going my way, we can walk together.” She looked at the woman expectantly.
Mrs. Adams stared at Mrs. Smith. “Oh . . . but I just thought of something I need to do. Thank you, Miss Thatcher,” and she hurried out the door.
My, that was sudden, Celia thought, and not even said kindly. It was almost as if she didn’t want to associate with— She felt a flicker of anger against the woman, and then looked at Mrs. Smith to see how she took the snub.
Mr. Chestley approached the counter. “Celia, I just remembered, Mr. Ellis particularly wanted to know when these prints arrived. Would you mind running over to tell him?”
Celia placed the change box under the counter. “I can leave right now. And, Mrs. Smith, would you like to walk with
“May I see?”
“Of course. Look at this one, a country lane with the pruned trees. It’s most unusual.”
Mrs. Smith gazed at the picture. “Oh my, I don’t think I’ve ever seen the like. Strange, isn’t it?”
“Yes, the subject is very different.” Celia looked up to see Mr. Chestley rounding the bookcase.
He stopped by her side. “Celia, I was waiting to hear your reaction on that one. The French countryside in winter. We don’t prune our trees in that drastic fashion, do we, Mrs. Smith?”
“I should say not. The picture looks sad. I can’t abide anything sad since I lost my husband.”
Mr. Chestley glanced at Celia. “What do you think of it?”
“It is stark, yet there’s beauty in the starkness. But a bit of hominess, too. The little cottage at the end of the lane with its lone cow conjures up a picture of a family living a simple life, maybe eking out a living. The colors and subject of the piece do complement each other.”
“So you like it?
“I find it intriguing. Something about it stirs me.”
Mr. Chestley smiled his approval. The bell jangled again. “Ah, Mrs. Adams. Welcome this fine day. Would you come here and give your opinion of this most unusual print?”
“Of course.” She walked over to the group and looked at the picture. “My! What are you going to do with it?”
“Well, nothing right now. I’m just getting various people’s opinions.”
“If you must know, I think it’s most strange. Not at all beautiful. I don’t see how anyone would want to purchase that.”
Celia looked at her. She was rather surprised a woman who loved flowers, didn’t see some redeeming quality in the picture.
“You and Mrs. Smith agree on that,” said Mr. Chestley. “We have other prints here. I’m going to choose one to frame for our bookstore.” He turned to Celia. “Before I send them back to Boston, why don’t we show them at our next book discussion, and see if anyone else wants to purchase one for framing. I’m thinking particularly of Mr. Ellis at the jewelry shop.”
“The viewing might draw in a few more people to the discussions. Shall I work up notices to post around town?”
“An excellent idea.”
“I doubt if many will find this French winter scene appealing.” Celia held the print up again. “Yet, I’m glad I can look at it before it’s returned.”
“Now you see the advantages of being my assistant? You never know what might come your way.” Mr. Chestley nodded to the other ladies. “Would you like to see the rest of them? If so, when you’re finished, tell me which one you’d like for our bookstore.”
Mrs. Adams declined, saying she wanted to find a certain book.
A few minutes later, Celia saw Mrs. Smith walk to Mr. Chestley’s office while she was helping Mrs. Adams with the purchase of her book. “You said you wanted to start reading this today?”
“Yes! For once, I have almost nothing to do. I’m especially interested in it as Mrs. Harrod said it was one Mr. Lyons particularly favored.”
Just then, Mrs. Smith approached the counter. “Well, I made my choice, so I believe I’m about ready to go. You leaving, Mrs. Adams? If you’re going my way, we can walk together.” She looked at the woman expectantly.
Mrs. Adams stared at Mrs. Smith. “Oh . . . but I just thought of something I need to do. Thank you, Miss Thatcher,” and she hurried out the door.
My, that was sudden, Celia thought, and not even said kindly. It was almost as if she didn’t want to associate with— She felt a flicker of anger against the woman, and then looked at Mrs. Smith to see how she took the snub.
Mr. Chestley approached the counter. “Celia, I just remembered, Mr. Ellis particularly wanted to know when these prints arrived. Would you mind running over to tell him?”
Celia placed the change box under the counter. “I can leave right now. And, Mrs. Smith, would you like to walk with
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