19
A pair of blue and gold ribbons hung from the tapestry that she’d known was her better work. Sangre de mi Madre: Blood of My Mother. A paean to the mountains and the sky, to the city and the landscape that had brought Genoveva Castillo to life, done in hand-dyed linens and silk floss and rough, glittery gemstone beads.
“That is quite an accomplishment, isn’t it?” Loc asked in a low murmur.
Cat nodded and forced herself to turn away from the tapestry. After taking what she hoped was an appropriately casual sip of champagne from the plastic flute she held, she said, “Yes. I’ve won best in my category a few times, but this is the first time I’ve gotten that and best in show, too. Usually that award goes to painting or sculpture.”
His hand slipped into hers, squeezed it gently. “I am ve
