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Now she came over to look out, too. “You didn’t buy it for the view, did you?”
“No. It has great space. You haven’t seen it, have you?” Lukas grasped at the straw he should have grabbed in the first place. “Let me show you.”
Holly shook her head, moving back toward the door. “I’m going to Althea’s.”
“Right.” Lukas shrugged easily. “And where does she live?”
“The West Seventies.”
He nodded. “Yeah, well, it might take you two hours if you walk.”
Holly made a face at him. But there was a light in her eyes that had always had the power to stir his blood.
Lukas grinned. “Come on, Hol’. You know you want to see it.”
“You want to show it off, you mean.”
“Yeah,” he said, his grin widening. He breathed easier. “That, too.”
* * *
“I’ve never seen anything like it. There’s the most amazing art! Stunning textiles, murals, these astonishing fanciful birdcages. Birdcages, if you can believe it!”
Holly knew she was babbling, but her mind still boggled at everything she had seen in Lukas’s gallery that afternoon. “And the jewelry...” She gave a shake of her head in near disbelief. “It’s absolutely gorgeous. The workmanship is superb. And the opals are the most beautiful I’ve ever seen.”
“You were impressed,” Stig said drily, but he grinned at her.
“You could say that.” Astonished more like. Partly because she had rarely seen so much appealing art all in one place. But also because it was evident that Lukas had had a very big hand in making it possible.
Of course the What’s New! article had sung his praises. But articles like that were showpieces intended to paint things in the best light. But Holly’s own tour of the gallery, coupled with the enthusiasm of the artists and sculptors she met, told an even more complimentary story.
He’d been eager to show it off, and having seen it now, she could understand why. He was fretting over details even as he showed her around, but she was sure it was going to be a success and she’d told him so.
“You think?” He’d sounded almost doubtful, but genuinely pleased.
“Of course,” Holly had said. “The artists are all brilliant. They cover a wide variety of media, and every one of them has some particular gift, some talent that just grabs me.”
It was true. She loved the airy textiles and the ornate and elegant birdcages. The wood sculpture was exquisite. The paintings covered the spectrum from primitive to sort of pseudo-impressionist to realistic to dreamy ethereal watercolors. She hadn’t been able to decide which she liked best. And the jewelry—the opal rings and necklaces, the brooches and pendants—was simply out of this world.
It wasn’t only seeing such wonderful works of art that enchanted her, it was that several of the artists were there, working, right in front of her. Lukas had introduced her to several of them.
“You can talk to them,” he’d said. “Comment. Ask questions. Whatever you want. We want to make the art—and the artists—accessible,” he’d told her. “We want people to understand the process, the artist’s mind.”
It was fascinating—and a brilliant marketing move. She could have talked forever with Charlotte, a textile artist who did amazing wall hangings. And the guy who made the birdcages, Sam, was as charming and quirky as he was talented.
He told her all about how he designed the cages, the materials he used, how long it took him to do one, even as he soldered tiny wire flowers in place, making them look like they were growing up the side of a Victorian house. “I have my own ideas,” he said. “But I’ve done a few to order. Want a birdcage? We could have dinner and talk about it,” he offered.
“She’s busy.” And Lukas had hauled her away peremptorily. “Well, you are,” he said when she protested. “Having dinner at Althea’s, didn’t you say?”
“Yes, but I could have continued to talk with him.”
“Not now. Come on. There’s more to show you.”
He took her through all the galleries, including one featuring opal mining. “A little background before we get to the jewelry,” he said. There were blown-up photos of the land, the mines, the work he and Skeet had done. She would have liked to look closer, but if she lingered, he took her arm. And Lukas’s fingers on her arm were a distraction she didn’t need. So when she sensed he was getting impatient, she moved on before he could touch her again.
