Love in the Looking Glass

1 “The Looking Glass.” The words rolled off Ellie’s tongue. Her fingers traced the gold lettering on the dark, wooden sign. “Amazing, don’t you think, Ray? This represents the culmination of a year’s hard work. I wonder if Mom felt the same way when she opened What’s Perkin’.” She glanced at her stepfather, Ray Davis. “Were you there for the grand opening?” “Your mom wasn’t there when I installed the sign. It wasn’t until later she saw it, and she was as excited then as you are today. You’ve worked hard, Ellie. We’re very proud of you.” Ellie did a little jig. “Thanks, Ray. I couldn’t have done this without the family’s help, especially yours. The way everyone pitched in painting, building shelves, refinishing floors, there was so much I needed to do before I opened, and now, tomorrow is the big day.” Ray tweaked her nose. “Kiddo, now the real work begins. You’ll need to discover new artists, build a customer base, and promote the heck out of the gallery.” “I have a couple of people stopping by this afternoon to drop off pottery, jewelry, and a few small sculptures. Then before the weekend, a photographer is coming through town and wants to show me his photos. If it fits with the theme, I’ll display his work too. I’m thrilled my dream of artisan’s work in any medium will be on display for everyone to see. This gallery will be immersion of the senses, if you will, just like my favorite book, Alice in Wonderland. Remember when she falls through the looking glass and discovers a dazzling world? Well, I hope that’s how people feel when they enter.” “I’m sure everyone will be enchanted when they discover this place.” Ray placed the rest of his tools in the back of the truck. “What time do you need us tomorrow night? Mom said she was coming over in the afternoon to set up the buffet tables. Do you need some muscles?” “No, I’ve got it covered, but thanks. If you could come around six thirty that will keep me busy so I don’t wind up a buddle of nerves. The official invitations are for seven. You and Mom should enjoy yourselves at the open house.” “All right then, I’m taking off unless you need something else.” “Nope, all set.” Ellie threw her arms around Ray’s mid-section and squeezed tightly. “Thanks for believing in me. I couldn’t have done any of this without you.” Ray shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t give me too much credit. All I did was follow your lead and swing a hammer.” He dropped a fatherly kiss on the top of Ellie’s head and mumbled something about needing coffee. “Say hi to Mom and tell her coffee is on me.” Ray hopped in the truck and waved goodbye as his truck disappeared down the street. Ellie skipped up the wide front steps and bent to deadhead a deep purple petunia. She straightened and noticed a dark car creeping past, and then it sped down the street. Shrugging, Ellie pulled an old-fashioned hanky from her pocket and polished the antique, brass door knocker, pausing on the threshold to admire the interior space. Ellie had arranged to rent her sister-in-law, Abby’s, childhood home, transforming it into an art gallery with a spacious floor plan. Large, cherry columns supported the structure, and the grand staircase opened to the second floor, leading the way to Ellie’s apartment. During the day, there would be an old-fashioned, amethyst velvet rope to close off the stairs from shoppers. Former small rooms were now alcoves featuring art. Ellie hummed as she crossed the main room to the back of the house where the kitchen was located, adjusting a few items as she passed. She hadn’t wanted to install a kitchen upstairs since it was just her, so keeping this part of the original house made sense. Besides, at some point, if she relocated her business, Abby could turn this back into a family home with very little effort. Ellie turned on the burner under the teakettle, chose a raspberry blend, and readied the infuser with loose tea. The front door chimed, interrupting her mid-pour. Ellie peeked around the corner, not realizing until that moment how quiet the house had become. “Hello, may I help you?” Ellie greeted an older woman. She was average height with warm brown eyes, dressed in a brightly colored, long, flowing tunic over slim black leggings and a matching floral print scarf covering her hair. On her arm she carried an oversized woven bag. “Good morning. I’m looking for Ms. McKenna.” The woman’s eyes roamed, an ever so slight smile played on her mouth, taking in each minute detail. “Would you be so kind as to inform her that Winifred Simpson would like a moment of her time?” Ellie masked her nerves by quickly extending her hand. “I’m Eleanor McKenna. It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Simpson.” Winifred Simpson was well-known in the art world. Her contemporary paintings commanded high commissions, and she had a loyal following, like Thomas Kinkade. Although, Mrs. Simpson had never mass marketed her work. “Really? Well, frankly I’m surprised. You are terribly young to have opened this establishment.” Without waiting for a response, the older woman began to thoroughly inspect each alcove without interacting with the young woman who trailed after her. After several long minutes, Mrs. Simpson spoke. “I’ll take this space. The light will be favorable for my work.” Ellie did a double take. “You want wall space, in my gallery?” “Why else would I be here? Frankly, Ms. McKenna, I thought you would be thrilled.” “I’m sorry,” she stuttered. “I don’t mean to sound disrespectful, Mrs. Simpson. You’ve had major exhibits around the world. What exposure could The Looking Glass give you that you don’t already have?” A small smile hovered on the older woman’s lips. “It is quite simple. I love the name of your shop. I live nearby and supporting a new female-owned business that has the creative spirit I embody spoke to me, so…” her arms opened and she twirled in place, “here I am.” “I’m speechless,” Ellie said. “I have that effect on people. In time, you’ll find it easier to be around me. Now, if you would be so kind as to help me, I have four paintings in the car that I would like to hang. I know it is too late for printed invitations but feel free to post an announcement on social media that I will be here tomorrow night, for your grand opening.” “Of course, Mrs. Simpson. I’m thrilled you’ll join us.” She followed the artist to the front door. Ellie almost bumped into her when she stopped short. “Eleanor, you don’t mind if I call you by your first name, do you?” Ellie shook her head. “Excellent. You may call me Winnie.” “Certainly Mrs.…uh, Winnie.” With that settled, the pair walked outside to Winnie’s van parked in the middle of the driveway. Ellie rushed around to open the back doors as Winnie clicked the key fob. The side doors slid open revealing one large canvas, and three smaller sizes standing on end, each one protected with layers of bubble wrap. Winnie stood to one side. “Now do be careful, Eleanor. We need to move one at a time.” Winnie fussed about like a mother hen with her baby chicks, making a clucking sound each time Ellie picked up a new painting, and followed as it was carried inside. After the final trip, Winnie pushed the button to close the doors, and with a spring in her step, led the way inside. “This is fun, don’t you think? The thrill of hanging a painting on a wall in all its splendor? It always gives me a thrill.” “They’ll look beautiful once we get them positioned just the way you want, Winnie.” Ellie deferred to the artist. She was still in awe that someone of Winifred Simpson’s caliber wanted to display work in her modest establishment. The two women worked in tandem placing the larger painting first and adding the smaller canvases on an adjacent wall. Once Ellie moved the final painting a fraction of an inch, Winnie stepped back to scrutinize the results. Ellie slowly exhaled. “Is this what you had in mind?” “You certainly have a flair for bringing out the best in the artwork. I don’t think there is anything else we can do at this time.” Winnie graced Ellie with a cheek-splitting grin. “I’ll bet this was a surprise for you?” “Oh gosh, yes. I didn’t expect to have these here. I’m curious why you chose today and didn’t wait until after the opening to see if it was successful.” “After my dear friend mentioned your gallery, I did some checking and then I remembered I saw you in what’s her name’s gallery, Karlene Johnson? I love that you’re young, energetic, and have a wonderful concept.” “Well, thank you, but I had no idea you lived close by.” “Do you know the old Moore estate?” Ellie nodded, awestruck. “That was my late husband’s family home, and I inherited it when he passed away. I seriously took up painting as a hobby to fill the long, lonely hours, and here we are today.” She glanced at Ellie, whose eyes were filled with unshed tears. “My dear child, what’s wrong?” “As kids, we thought that house was haunted. We used to stand at the gates and wait for the ghost to appear. One time we saw a lady, dressed in a flowing white robe in the window, and we were so scared we never went back. I never thought she might have been real and well, lonely.” Winnie chuckled. “I knew the stories about the lady in white and in full disclosure, that was me. I used to wear a white smock over my clothes so I didn’t get covered in paint. It was easier to replace the smock than constantly shop for clothes. The lady in white was born. My dear husband, Howard, loved my sense of humor, even if it was a bit twisted. I encouraged the ghost stories so I could concentrate on painting. When I needed human companionship, I went into the world. My self-imposed isolation allowed me to become the dabbler of paints I am today.” Ellie sensed the depth of Winnie’s loneliness. Her comment seemed to have touched Winnie if her endearing smile was any indication. Ellie leaned forward and flashed her trademark grin. “I think the time you spent dabbling, if I can use your word, paid off. I’ve been a fan since my mom and I went to a gallery in Boston. Your paintings spoke to me on a deep level.” Impulsively, Ellie gave the older woman a fierce hug. “I’m so glad you’re coming tomorrow night. The party starts at seven and feel free to bring a guest. If no one else shows up, my family will be here so it will be a party either way.” “I just might do that. I’ll have to see if he’s in town yet.” Seemingly pleased with the impromptu meeting, Winnie gathered her bag and then kissed Ellie on both cheeks. “See you tomorrow evening, my dear. This has been a lovely day.” Ellie watched as Mrs. Winifred Simpson left with the same flare as when she entered. Talking out loud, she said, “I wonder who recommended The Looking Glass. I certainly owe them a big thanks.” The phone rang and Ellie tackled a problem with the newspaper advertisement. Such is the life of a business owner, she thought. Distracted by a loud thump on the front steps, she went to investigate. She opened the front door, unsure what to expect. Ellie discovered a delivery girl carrying two large, glass vases up the front step. She rushed to help, sidestepping a large balloon bouquet and two tall planters. “What’s going on? You must have the wrong address. I didn’t order flowers.” The girl glanced at her notebook. “This is The Looking Glass, and you’re Ellie McKenna?” “This is, and I am.” “Then it’s your delivery. Must be people wanting to congratulate you on the grand opening.” She pointed to a banner on the balloons. Until that second, Ellie hadn’t noticed the banner. “Let me help you.” Ellie propped the door open as the girl gasped and stepped in. She nodded and gave a low whistle. “Your place is really cool. When I get some time, I’ll stop back to poke around.” “I’m having a party tomorrow night at seven. Feel free to stop. I’m serving light refreshments, and some of the artists will be here to talk about their work. It’ll be fun.” Ellie beamed as her words came out in a rush. “I might just do that. I’m going to get the last of the flowers, and then I need to hit the road.” Ellie lingered on the steps and noticed the same dark car slowly cruising by again. A vase started to slip from the girl’s hands, and all thoughts of the car vanished. Ellie grabbed the vase in the nick of time. “Jeez, good thing I have cat-like reflexes.”