Excerpt: Acrylic Mountain

The decision was made, her heart beat wildly at the realization that the painting would soon be hanging in her tiny room at home in the apartment with Ellie, and Darby turned purposefully toward the counter in the back, just in time to see the woman and her daughter thank Art’s brother and carry their purchase, wrapped in brown packaging paper, toward the door, following within the wake of the tall man, who had been peering without apparent interest at the photographs. The brother glanced up at her and smiled as she took a couple steps forward. He held up a hand and hurried around the counter, roughly pushing Art out of way as the latter attempted to move aside to continue his phone conversation.
“How may I help you?” he said, reaching her within a moment.
“Well,” she said, wrinkling her brow minutely at the liberty he seemed to have taken with his brother and employee, who apparently was used to being routinely shoved out of the way since he had not even seemed to have noticed. Then again, maybe that was just boys…or brothers, Darby decided, attempting to quickly rearrange her grimace into a pleasant expression. “I’d like to buy this painting,” she said, turning back to the elaborately framed work.
“Ah, yes,” said the brother, and he closed the distance between himself and the acrylic mountains in two long strides. “This artist has been pretty popular lately. Mr. Reynolds,” he said, peeling the identification card off the wall and folding it in half before pocketing it and reaching for the frame with both hands.
“It’s just breathtaking,” Darby said, smiling again at the vision of how her room at home would look with the mountains gracing its space. The only possible place for it would be over her bed, and she could think of no more perfect location for it to spend the rest of eternity. He pulled the painting off the wall and carried it back to the counter just as Art finished his phone conversation.
“So, you found something you like?” he said, replacing the receiver on the phone cradle.
“Yeah, this painting is just gorgeous. I think it captures the mountains far better than I’ll be able to with my camera, and I’ll be able to forever remember my vacation here.”
“You two,” the brother said, looking at Art and then back at Darby, his thumbs pointing at each of them. “You know each other?”
Darby laughed, and Art smiled. “Darby took my tour this morning,” he said, catching her eye. She turned away, feeling the color rising in her cheeks.
“Well,” the brother said. “Nice to meet you. I’m Cashton, by the way.” He held out his hand, while shifting the weight of the painting to his left arm.
“Hi. Darby,” she said, shaking his hand. Clearly good looks ran in the family, she thought, releasing his hand and following him up to the counter. As he wrapped the frame in brown packing paper, he threw her furtive glances every few seconds…
…
“So, uh, how much do I owe you?” she said to Cashton, finally, seeing no other way of progressing along this transaction.
“What? Oh, right,” he said, pulling the folded identification card out from his pocket and holding it close to his face. “It’s marked at forty-five dollars, a real bargain considering the source.”
“Sounds great,” she said, pulling three twenties from her wallet. “Just between you and me, I’d be willing to pay more for a painting that beautiful. Make sure you tell the artist to reconsider his prices, next time.”
“I will,” he said, coughing, and turning his back on her to face the register. She glanced over at Art, who was dancing again back and forth, and smiled. Strange pair. He smiled back and seemed to deliberate a moment before speaking.
“You planning on coming back into town again? I mean during your visit.”
“Oh, well, probably not this week.” He frowned, but she pressed on, “But I’ll be back next week. I only paid for eight days at the lodge, so I’ll have to spend the rest of my trip at a hotel.”
“Oh.” His expression brightened considerably. “Well, I hope you enjoy the rest of your time at the park.”
“I’m sure I’ll see you around,” she said, wondering what his interest was all about.
“Yes, great,” he said. Cashton pushed her change at her and smiled weakly.
“Well, enjoy your painting,” he said.
“Oh, I will,” she said, smiling back.