The Unveiling (Work of Art #2) by Ruth Clampett Read Free Book Online

like I need to find a new hobby or something, because I think I was getting a bit hooked on the drama.
    Halfway through lunch, Jonathan finally calls to touch base. He lets me know that he was too out of it to call yesterday, but he’s making progress after his doctor and acupuncturist appointments this morning. It looks as if he’ll be able to go to New York on Thursday after all. He sounds relieved, but his disappointment over our weekend still lingers. He assures me that he’s planning another getaway that will more than make up for the Santa Barbara fiasco.
    At this point, I have to admit that a getaway with Jonathan is no longer appealing, and whatever we do next time I see him, it definitely won’t be on a chaise lounge.

    The next few days move slowly. I spend hours in the print shop assisting Sean as we lay down the colors for Max’s print. A large area of the lightest yellow is printed, which allows other colors to intentionally bleed through. A blazing dark red is screened next. There are slivers of the color lying along the edges—a trail of lips looking for someone to kiss. I run my fingers along the red line, cutting through the art dividing the dark area from the light.
    I refuse to actually execute the screen work, because I still can’t do it without imagining Max pressed behind me and kissing my neck. Instead, I load and unload the drying racks until my arms ache from the repetitive motion.

    Katherine has generously offered to shoot my headshot for the book, so on Thursday, I leave work a little early and head up Beachwood Canyon to the Kester’s. Like many hillside homes, it’s built on levels and tucked into the mountain, and even though it’s a Richard Neutra design and decidedly modern, it still feels welcoming.
    Katherine opens the door and gives me a warm hug. Her wavy auburn hair falls around her shoulders and frames her lovely face. Her clothes are simple—fitted jeans tucked into boots and a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. The only embellishments are a long, amber and crystal necklace and a wide antique silver cuff bracelet. She always looks polished, but that woman could look elegant in shorts and flip-flops. Katherine is a marvel, the epitome of what I want to be like in thirty years.
    As I step inside, I smile as I notice the large vases of flowers throughout, soft music on the stereo, and glass doors wide open to bring the spectacular view of the city inside. I’ve always loved the feeling in their home.
    Her studio is a large room with high ceilings located on the bottom level of the home. Like most of the house, the studio has a wall of glass that faces the view and is equipped with blackout blinds she can draw if needed.
    Already draped behind the stool where I’ll sit is the background for the shot, a huge sheet of canvas that’s been washed repeatedly with shades of translucent gray paint, creating a rich layered depth. Facing the stool are lights on stands that have softboxes of translucent white attached. When she turns them on, the light is milky soft.
    She leads me to the stool and talks me through particulars such as sitting up straight, flattering angles of the face, and the best way to lean into the posing stand. She then takes a brush and moves it through my long hair, sweeping some forward and pushing some back before brushing her fingers along my cheek.
    “You’re so lovely, Ava. I’m sure I can’t take a bad picture of you.”
    I grin, grateful to be in such good hands.
    Once she starts shooting, we try different expressions and poses. Katherine doesn’t so much direct me, but shows me, and her comments while she works make me smile. She also takes plenty of pictures when I’m not expecting her to, such as when I’m laughing or just staring off to the side thinking she’s changing film. By the time she finishes shooting three or four dozen pictures, I’m confident there’ll be at least one that’ll work for the book.
    She made me feel