Page 95 of Painted Dreams
“Okay, well, there’s a procedure. Probably a specific person or form or something. I’m sure Sara could do it in five minutes.”
The muscle twitched in Blake’s jaw.Whatwas his problem? Caving to get rid of him, Kat held up a hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get with Sara and let her know.”
She offered a polite smile then turned and picked up a notepad to jot down a reminder.
“Great.”
He disappeared without so much as a thank-you.
Kat closed her eyes as sadness enveloped her. How long could she put up with this? She used to love her job. She understood that change happened, but did it have to be so negative? Her résumé was ready, but she checked every week, and there was nothing else available at MoMA. If she wanted to escape, she’d have to go to a different museum. And she wasn’t willing to let this overbearing bully her out.
She emailed Sara then slogged through the rest of the afternoon. The ride home did little to brighten her spirits. A few blocks from her stop, her phone buzzed.
—I’m bringing carryout. See you in a bit.—
Kat sputtered a laugh. Perfect. Mia had the gift of good timing.
—Yes, please!—
At her building, Kat pushed inside the entryway and was surprised to see her name on a package there. She scooped up the box. The Denver Art Museum? Probably a thank-you gift for her donation to the auction.
Inside her apartment, Kat kicked off her shoes and grabbed a pair of scissors. She sliced the tape on the box and removed a layer of brown packing paper. Nestled inside were a few blobs of bubble wrap. She removed them all and set them on the table. Then she peered into the box again—and gasped. She recognized those bright-colored leaves on crystal blue sky. “Oh, my gosh.”
With a squeal, she pulled the banner from the box and unfurled it. Amazing how big it seemed in her small space. She wrapped it around her shoulders and picked up one of the bubble blobs. “Wow,” she murmured. She had no idea. When Jim had mentioned promotional pieces in addition to the banner, she’d thought he meant the printed calendar of events. But these…these looked amazing.
She moved to the next item and the next until the table was dotted with her fall leaves on a ceramic mug, a canvas tote bag, and an insulated water bottle. The ring of the doorbell made her jump. Oh, this would be fun. Grinning, she buzzed Mia in. She flung open the door and waited for her friend to get to the top of the stairs.
“Hey!” Mia smiled. “Hope you like–”
“Get in here. I have something to show you.”
“Okaaaay.”
Kat tugged Mia’s arm and practically pulled her into the room. With a flourish, Kat gestured toward the table. “Look at this.”
Mia placed the carryout bag on the table and surveyed the items displayed there. “These are cool. Great colors. What are they for?”
“This is my artwork. I gave the Denver Art Museum permission to use it for their seasonal banner, and they did all this!”
Mia stared at Kat, eyes wide. “This is yours?”
“From college days.”
“Kat, this is fabulous. They’re selling these?”
“I guess so. Well, probably this fall.”
“Wow. These are going to fly off the shelves.”
Kat reached for the bag. “I can’t stop touching them.”
“Hahaha, I was soooo right.” Mia leaned close to Kat’s face and grinned. “Remember that conversation we had about you being the next Lily Pulitzer? I think I’ve been proven right. You’re welcome.”
With a laugh, Kat turned to the kitchen for plates and utensils. But the wheels began spinning in her head. Was Mia onto something? Could Kat’s artwork gain traction as decorative fashion or household items? Pursuing a more commercial avenue for her work would be amajorshift in direction. And she’d just sent out dozens of postcards to galleries all over the country. Would gallery owners see commercial popularity as confirmation that her work had value? Or would they see her as a sellout—mass producing for money?
She placed the plates on the table and studied the fall designs again. She could imagine a silk scarf offering a pop of color to more muted brown and rust fall sweaters. But where could she sell them? How would she get them into exclusive boutiques with clientele that would appreciate the artistic quality? Even though she worked with vendors at the museum, she didn’t have expertise in retail sourcing or manufacturing.
“Just think how valuable your original pieces would be if they were inspiration for a whole line of fancy accessories.” Mia heaped pad see ew onto her plate. “I’m telling you, one of these days your art is going to be hanging in the MoMA. Take that, Blake from Boston.”
