Page 142 of Homeport

“I didn’t bring the model, just sketches. I want to be sure it’s forged just exactly to my specifications.” As if gaining confidence, he briskly opened the portfolio. “One of the other students told me about a small bronze that was done here—but he couldn’t remember who’d done the casting. This is a sketch of the piece. It’s David.”

“Like in Goliath, right?” She tilted her head, turning the sketch around. “This is really good. Did you draw it?”

“Yes.” He beamed at her. “I was hoping to find out who did the casting on this so I could make arrangements for him to do my work. It was about three years ago, though, according to my friend.”

“Three years?” She pursed her lips. “That’s going back a ways.”

“I know.” He tried the puppy look again. “It’s vitally important to me to find out. My friend said that the piece was beautifully done. The bronze was perfect—and whoever did the foundry work used a Renaissance formula, really knew his craft. The sculpture was like museum quality.”

He took out another sketch, showed her The Dark Lady. “I’ve worked desperately hard on this piece. It’s taken all my energies. Almost my life, if you can understand.” His eyes began to shine as she studied it.

“She’s great. Really great. You oughta be selling these drawings, kid. Seriously.”

“I make a little money doing portraits,” he mumbled. “It’s not what I want to do. It’s just to eat.”

“I bet you’re going to be a big success.”

“Thanks.” Delighted with her, he let tears swim into his eyes. “It’s been such a long haul already, so many disappointments. There are times you could just give up, just surrender, but somehow . . .”

He held up a hand as if overcome. Sympathetically, she popped a tissue out of a box and handed it to him.

“Thank you. I’m so sorry.” He dabbed delicately under his tinted lenses. “But I know I can do this. I have to do this. And for this bronze, I need the best you’ve got. I’ve saved enough money to pay whatever you charge, extra if I have to.”

“Don’t worry about extra.” She patted his hand, then turned to her computer terminal. “Three years back. Let’s see what we can find out. Odds are it was Whitesmith. He gets a lot of the work from students.”

She began to click and clack with inch-long red nails, and shot him a wink. “Let’s see if we can get you an A.”

“I appreciate this so much. When I was driving up here, I just knew this was going to be a special day for me. By the way, I just love your nails. That color is fabulous against your skin.”

It took less than ten minutes.

“I bet this is the one. Pete Whitesmith, just like I figured. He’s top of the line around here, and most anywhere else if you ask me. Did a job for this kid—I remember this kid. Harrison Mathers. He was pretty good too. Not as good as you,” she added, sending Ryan a maternal smile.

“Did he get a lot of work done here? Harrison, I mean.”

“Yeah, several pieces. Always hung around over Pete’s shoulder. Nervous kid. Here it shows a small bronze nude of David with sling. That’s the one.”

“That’s great. Amazing. Whitesmith. He still works here?”

“Sure, he’s a cornerstone. You go on over to the foundry. Tell Pete Babs said to treat you right.”

“I don’t know how to thank you.”

“How much would you charge to do a drawing of my kids?”

“For you, absolutely free.” He shined a smile at her.

“Sure I remember it.” Whitesmith mopped at his face under the bill of a stained blue cap. He had a face that should have been carved in granite, all blocky square and deep grooves. He was built like a bullet, broad at the base, narrow at the shoulders. His voice rose over the roar of furnaces, the hard clangs of metal.

“This was the piece?”

Whitesmith stared at the sketch Ryan showed him. “Yep. Harry was mighty particular about this one. Had the formula for the bronze written out—wanted me to add some lead so it’d cure faster, but otherwise it was an old formula. I’m coming up on break, let’s take this outside.”

Grateful, Ryan followed him out of the heat and noise.

“I’ve been casting for twenty-five years,” Whitesmith said, lighting his break Camel and blowing the smoke into the lightly chilled air. “I gotta say, that piece was a little gem. Ayah. One of my favorites.”

“You did others for him too?”

---