The Carousel Painter by Judith Miller Read Free Book Online

to help me seek work. Now, with a possibility in the offing, I had witnessed her startling betrayal.
    I flashed a quick look in her direction before turning toward Mr. Galloway. He tipped his head. His tolerant smile made me feel like a little girl who had announced her wish to become a princess. But this wasn’t a fairy tale, and I wasn’t a little girl. I had to convince him that I could provide an excellent solution to at least one of his problems.
    “Before you make up your mind, let me point out that I have excellent skills, and I believe my painting would create an even greater demand for your horses. I know you’ll be pleased with my work.” A weight settled on my chest while I awaited Mr. Galloway’s response.
    “I don’t doubt what you’ve said, but there aren’t any women working in the factory. I don’t believe it would be suitable,” he said.
    “You’re exactly right, Father. It would be more appropriate for Carrington to paint portraits and still lifes. We could help her arrange a showing of her work.”
    “I don’t have any work to exhibit, Augusta. And preparing for an exhibit would take years.” Though I’d exaggerated my timeline, I hoped to elicit a response from Mrs. Galloway. I didn’t have to wait long.
    The older woman shifted in her chair and tapped a fingertip on the table. “Carrington has a valid point regarding an exhibit. As for the portrait idea, perhaps some of our friends might step forward and engage her services, but the income wouldn’t be dependable. From what Carrington has told us, there are many starving artists—even in Paris.”
    The woman was cruel! If I hadn’t needed her help to promote my cause, I would have responded in kind. “Then you agree that your husband should offer me the position?”
    “I don’t generally interfere in Howard’s business decisions, but your suggestion does have merit. It appears that both of you would benefit.”
    “Mother! You can’t be serious. I cannot believe what I’m hearing. Did you hear Father? He said no other women work there.”
    Mrs. Galloway shrugged. “Someone must be first. Isn’t that right, Carrington?”
    “Oui. Yes. And I’m willing to be that person.” I turned to Mr. Galloway. “I hope you’ll listen to your wife and give me an opportunity. You won’t regret hiring me.”
    I could see the indecision in his eyes. “I don’t want to create problems at the factory, but—”
    “Orders need to be completed, Howard. Isn’t that what you said? Carrington can help meet that goal. You don’t have any other qualified painters begging for work, do you?”
    Mrs. Galloway had plowed over Augusta’s objections and taken up my cause with a fervor that could have matched Elizabeth Cady Stanton’s arguing for women’s rights. Mr. Galloway glanced first at his wife and then at his daughter. His brows knit together, and his eyes shone with concern. It was obvious he didn’t want to choose sides.
    I leaned forward, silently imploring Augusta to look at me. “You know I must go to work as soon as possible,” I whispered.
    “I know. Silly me. I had hoped you could live with us, and our friendship would continue to grow.” A haunting ache lingered in her words.
    “Our friendship won’t end because I live somewhere else.” I straightened in my chair and forced a smile. “Besides, you’ll soon be engaged and marry some eligible bachelor. Then what will I do?”
    Augusta shook her head. “I don’t think that’s going to happen in the near future.”
    Mrs. Galloway clucked her tongue. “You’ve received several invitations to attend parties in the coming months. If you’d put Mrs. Higgen-brook’s etiquette and dance classes to use and quit hiding behind the potted plants the minute you arrive at a party, we’d already be fitting you for a wedding gown.”
    Augusta splotched pink from bodice to hairline. “Mother! Do cease such talk.”
    “I’m only saying . . .”
    Mr. Galloway cleared his throat.