Page 37 of The Seashell of ’Ohana

Mrs. Worthington, my client, had requested two oil paintings. She wanted me to paint Rainbow Falls and Akaka Falls, both located in Hilo, the big island. I had completed Rainbow Falls the other day. The vibrant colors of the rainbow arched over the splashing waterfall, sparkling and lifelike. It might turn out to be one of my favorites.

When I scanned down the remaining names, I felt an anxiety attack coming on again. Too many. It was fantastic for our business, but at the same time, we needed help.

Through text, Kate had let me know that she would be coming in around lunchtime and that she had interviewed a couple of artists while I’d been sick. I would have one interviewee this morning.

I sat in front of my easel next to the supply shelf and examined the unfinished canvas staring back at me. The ocean was done, but I needed to add some turtles on the sand. I turned to my finished paintings, which were hung by the desk to motivate me, but I kept thinking of Ian.

My cell phone on the table beside me vibrated in the quiet, startling me. I was pleasantly surprised by Ian’s text.

Ian: I hope you’re feeling better.

Abby: Thanks to your miracle chicken soup, I’m at work.

Ian: I’d like to think it was my presence and not the soup.

I added a laughing emoji and was surprised how easily the conversation flowed, like two good friends. No response came, so I figured we were done.

“Abby. Liam, your eleven o’clock is here,” Stella announced through the speakerphone.

I had forgotten to look over his résumé, and I had no questions prepared. It was unlike me to be last-minute, reacting to things as they happened instead of planning. No matter. I would wing it. I blamed it on Ian.

I took off the apron, tossed it over the stool, and strode out the door. Stella had her elbow pressed on her desk, her chin on her raised fist. Her eyes were fixed on a young, handsome man, who was running a finger along the wing of an angel statue on the shelf by the window.

He wore dark slacks and a long-sleeve button-up white dress shirt and carried a black leather case. The sunlight bounced off his sandy brown hair, and his skin glowed like he had just come back from the beach.

The patter of my flats on the tile broke his stare, and he turned to me with a warm grin, brightening up the room. Or, maybe I should say, he brightened up Stella. Her smile reached her eyes.

Liam met me by the sofa then gave me a sturdy handshake. “Hello, Abby. It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard such great things about you and your sister, Kate.”

He knew my sister’s name. A point for him. He’d done his homework. And he had the cutest dimples.

“Thank you,” I said. “I hope you won’t be disappointed after the interview. Would you like something to drink?”

He flashed a glance over to Stella. “Your lovely assistant already asked, but I’m fine.”

Stella tried to hide her coloring cheeks by looking at the computer screen. I gestured to a small glass table and two simple metal chairs at the far back corner, away from the window and potential customers.

I didn’t want to take him to the backroom, where it was crowded and messy. Besides, I wanted Stella’s opinion. She also had to like the person we hired. Kate had arranged the furniture for her interviews yesterday, and the back corner was the perfect spot.

“So, tell me about yourself.” I eased into the hard chair in front of Liam and crossed my legs.

Liam pulled a leather-bound portfolio from the case by his feet and handed it to me. I ran a palm over the smooth leather and spread the portfolio open on the glass table.

“I’ve lived in Kauai all my life,” Liam said. “I graduated with a degree in fine arts.” He pointed to the résumé he’d placed in front of me. “That has more detail about my classes and awards I won in college. I don’t have much experience besides teaching online, but my portfolio will give you a sense of my style and vision. I also have a website, which is listed on the bottom of my résumé.”

I used to be furious when the person who interviewed me asked questions I had clearly answered in my cover letter and on my résumé. Giving him the same treatment made me feel unprofessional. I turned the page, admiring the sketches of people, animals, and buildings.

Liam sounded confident, and I liked his honesty, and his portfolio was diverse, unique, and impressive.

“I’ve also taken classes in photography,” he added as I continued to flip through his work. “If you get a chance to look at my website, you’ll see recent work.”

Photography was not listed as a requirement in our ad, but it sure would be a bonus.

I handed Liam back his portfolio. “We don’t pay hourly. The position pays based on commission. You wouldn’t have to actively look for your clients, but you might have to work to a client’s specifications. Are you okay with that?”

He leaned to the side to drop his portfolio inside his case. “I’m fine with commission. Creating art takes hours of work, and sometimes, almost as much time thinking. It’s practically impossible to charge fairly for all the time spent on a piece.”

If I could, I would hire him on the spot.