Save Her

Book 1: Lovers in Louisville

by Ariella Talix

Genres: Contemporary Romance; Erotic & Steamy Romance; Romantic Suspense; Romantic Suspense

Synopsis

Gunnar Dahl is a famous mystery writer with a secret.

Åse Halvorsen may be the woman of his dreams, but their life together turns into a nightmare.

Åse is as beautiful as she is talented. But she's a magnet for trouble, and Gunnar is willing to risk anything to bring her to safety.

Gunnar is a protector, a nurturer, and above all a lover. He never dreamt his world could be nearly shattered by a lunatic.

Guaranteed HEA. No cliffhanger. Adult themes and hot, sexy scenes are intended for mature readers only.

Release date: April 20, 2019

Publisher: Ringmaster Publishing

Print pages: 352

Content advisory: explicit sex

Sample

 

“Creativity takes courage.”

-Henri Matisse

 

 

“When you make music or write or create, it’s really your job to have mind-blowing, irresponsible, condomless sex with whatever idea it is you’re writing about at the time.”

-Lady Gaga

 

 

 

 

Prologue

Åse Halvorsen’s windshield wipers flipped and flopped hypnotically in front of her as she tried to remain alert.  The art fair she’d attended had been rained out, and they’d sent all of the artists home a day early.  She’d been forced to tear down her tent and jewelry display in a torrential downpour, so now she was exhausted, cold, and uncomfortable in her damp clothes.  In order to save some money, instead of going back to her hotel room, she’d checked out and headed for home.  Now she wished she’d changed clothes first. 

It was a cold spring rainstorm, typical of this part of the South in April.  She didn’t know what they’d been thinking, trying to have an outdoor art fair so early in the year.  But she and plenty of other artists had been eager enough to make money, so they’d foolishly signed up for it.

Åse spent her long, lonely drive home considering her live-in boyfriend Dan’s most recent (third) marriage proposal.  He’d seemed so sincere as he went on about how much he adored her and wanted a long and happy future as her husband.  So, as she tried to keep the windows from fogging up while every soaked item in her SUV put out steam with the heater on in the car, she thought of the pros and cons of living with Dan for the rest of her life. 

In the plus column, Dan seemed to be genuinely crazy about her, and he was a handsome guy who seemed to be a hard worker.  Åse realized the list in this column was pretty short, however.  She wasn’t even sure about the hard worker part.

A definite con was that at night she often felt suffocated by him.  Dan clung to her and always wanted to snuggle, but she craved her space.  He would wrap her in his arms, and she would wiggle out of them as soon as he fell asleep.  She felt constricted by his proximity.  Some nights, when she couldn’t get far enough away from him in the bed, she would throw on some sweats and head to her studio to work instead.  She would work until around four of five in the morning, and she would finally drag herself back to bed.  Later, she napped while he was at work. 

She’d never had any kind of an “Aha” moment that made her think she loved Dan, and sex with him had been something she’d finally just tried out of curiosity or boredom—she couldn’t say for sure really.  It certainly hadn’t done much for her.

Once they’d had sex, Dan constantly told her how much he loved her, and he gradually began spending more and more time at her house.  His possessions started to take up space in her rooms and closets.  Allowing Dan into her life had been a case of following the path of least resistance.  They’d never had a conversation about having him move in, he just seemed to settle into the house like a coat of dust. 

She spent so much time working and traveling to art fairs, she didn’t actually spend all that much time with Dan, so she doubted that she even knew him well enough to marry him.

 

As she finally pulled into the garage, Åse made up her mind and decided to tell him… nothing.  No one else seemed interested in her at the moment, but she just wished she felt more of a spark with him.  There had to be more to life than marriage to Dan would provide.  Maybe she just needed more time to get used to him.

Walking in the back door, she froze when she heard the sound of loud female laughter coming from upstairs.  She made her way toward the bedroom as silently as possible, and she found dear old Dan stark naked, in her bed, with their married neighbor. 

The look on his face was a mixture of guilt, surprise, and horror. 

The neighbor just kept giggling.

After telling the neighbor unceremoniously, “Get outta here,” Dan chased Åse back downstairs, yelling at her, “Well, what did you expect, Ace?  You leave me alone all the time, and I have needs!  This doesn’t mean I don’t love you, baby!” 

“You slimy bastard!  Get out of my house!  And take that stupid piece of trash with you!”  Åse felt proud of herself for not crying.  Then she realized she didn’t feel like crying at all; she had a profound sense of relief.

Just then, the giggling neighbor yanked open the front door and ran through it half-dressed.  Did the woman have no pride?  She slammed the door, and Åse could hear the laughter fade as the woman slogged home through the rain.

Åse tried to shove Dan out the door too, but he was way too big and had no intention of leaving the house naked.  The jerk tried to pull her into his arms at one point, but she ground her booted foot into his big toe to stop that from happening.  Considering he still didn’t have anything on, she figured she’d let him off easy.  She could have aimed for an even more sensitive target, so she felt no guilt when he doubled over howling about his stupid toe. 

Åse went around for the next thirty minutes systematically removing every item Dan owned and heaving each thing one by one out the windows and front door onto the front lawn… in the rain.  He hobbled around after her trying to put it all back and at the same time groveling at her, “Please, baby!  I need to talk to you!  It’s not what you think.  I love you, Ace baby.  She was just a mistake!  A loss of perspective… a quick, little nothing fling.  I love you; you have to believe me!” 

Åse refused to talk to him.  She only glared at him from time to time throughout his sniveling tirade.

Åse remained a woman on a mission, and she eventually won.  All of his crap had finally landed in soggy heaps out on the lawn. 

He did at least put on some of the clothes she had been flinging around by grabbing them before they flew out the window.

“Where am I supposed to go, Ace baby?”

Finally, she answered, “I don’t give a shit!  Just get out of my house and out of my sight!”

She felt very, very glad she had not accepted his proposal.  After locking the deadbolt behind him, she blocked his number from her phone with the intention of never speaking to him again. 

That didn’t work too well, unfortunately.

Dan tried to come to see Åse every day after that.  He would stand at the front door, trying the lock, ringing the bell, and knocking for several minutes.  She’d programmed a new alarm code and had the locks changed almost as quickly as she’d seen him dejectedly picking up his sodden belongings from the front yard.  She had a backbone of steel, and she would never listen to Dan’s pathetic side of the story.  There was no side to his story.  A cheater was a cheater.  Period.  She started wearing headphones instead of earplugs while she worked, so the music totally blocked out all of his knocking and ringing at the door.

She had seriously considered getting a restraining order against him, but ignoring him was easier, and she didn’t think he’d ever try to hurt her.  He was just a bothersome pest.

 

One day, however, as she set out for her morning run, he stepped right up to her and got in her face, announcing, “Ace, I know you love me.  Just look at how hurt you are over my one tiny indiscretion.  I need you, baby.  You’re mine!”  

Åse looked him square in the eye and said in a flat voice, “I don’t love you, never loved you, and want you to get away from me.  Go find somebody else to annoy.  Or go back to your giggling idiot.  Apparently, she likes you.  Just leave me alone.”  She took off at a fast pace, knowing he’d never have the stamina to follow her.

 

Chapter 1

Louisville, Kentucky

Two months later

 

Åse’s eyes lit up with pleasure when she saw the caller ID on her phone.  David Drummond had been a good friend for years, ever since they’d been undergraduate art students at college.  “Hey, David!  I haven’t talked to you in way too long.  What’s up?”

“Hi, Åse.  Do you think you could please do kind of a rush job and make one of your beautiful heart lockets for me?  I’m leaving for Canada tomorrow, and it’s my girlfriend’s birthday soon.  I’ll be flying to France from Canada, so I’ll have to have you mail it to me in Toronto.  Can you do something like that for me if you just have a couple of weeks’ notice?  Or—maybe you already have something already in your inventory that would work?”

Instead of answering, Åse asked, “You have a girlfriend?”  She couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice.

“Yeah.  Amelia.  She’s incredible.”

“I’m shocked!” she laughed.

“Yeah, so am I, frankly,” David chuckled.  “So... can I get a locket from you?  I’ll send you a picture to include inside it.  Sorry I don’t have time to print it up, but you can add that to the price.  I’d like some dichroic glass, but nothing patterned, just colors, and maybe silver.  Since I’d like a heart shape, I thought immediately of you for the design.  She likes blues and greens and has beautiful green eyes.  Nothing too frilly.  Her look is more sophisticated.”  He paused for a second.  “Ugh, that makes her sound stuffy, and she’s anything but.  Anyway, I’ll send the photo, and you’ll see what I mean.  I know your work isn’t frilly, by the way.”

Åse smiled and answered, “Sure, I can do that.  What’s with all of the traveling around the world?” 

“I’m installing a huge sculpture in Toronto, and then I’m going to see Amelia who is working in Paris for the summer.  I’d like to take it with me if you can do it quickly enough.  Sorry for the late notice.  I’m sure you’re busy, so go ahead and add a rush fee to the price if you need to make something.”

“I’m not as busy as you!  I saw the article in New Art News.  Congratulations on your success.  I knew you’d get there.”  The smile in her voice was obvious.

“Thanks,” he chuckled.  “I’m glad someone thought so.  How are the art fairs treating you these days?”

“Oh, don’t ask.  It seems like the harder I work, the fewer the sales, so I really appreciate you thinking of me for Amelia’s gift.  Art fairs seem to be dying.  All of my art fair friends are just holding on.  I need to find some other outlets for my work, or I need to get a second job.”  With this statement, her smile disappeared.

“Oh, sorry to hear that.  You’re so talented, and your work is gorgeous.  Maybe I can put in a good word for you at a few of the galleries that are showing my work, if you’re interested.  That’s probably not the best place for jewelry though.”  He paused, thinking, and then exclaimed, “Hey!  Maybe my sister Molly’s boutique.  I’ll talk to her about it.” 

“Thanks.  That would be wonderful actually.” 

David and Åse worked out the cost and payment specifics.  “Well, good luck, and thanks a million again.  I need to get back to packing.  Let me know how things go with the design.  Good talking to you.”

David had always thought Åse embodied beauty and talent.  Despite the crush he’d had on her when they were undergrads, he’d valued her friendship way too much to ever date her.  She’d also been way too young, having skipped a couple of grades or something, meaning she was only sixteen when they’d met.  Petite with pale blonde hair and big, cornflower blue eyes that looked right into your soul when she talked to you, Åse always seemed earnest and intense, as if you were terribly important to her.  His ego always got a boost when someone paid such close attention to what he said, even if he was just a college freshman with grandiose ideas about his talent. 

Now he had to accept the irony that Åse was actually several years older than his Amelia.  Now that they were all adults, the age difference made less difference, he supposed.  David also realized that he’d been far more interested in Åse’s friendship than anything else.  He fervently hoped Åse would find someone special to love. 

 

 

Åse’s parents came from Norway, and she’d always joked that she’d been lucky to have a name no one could spell because the first letter didn’t even exist in the English alphabet, and no one could pronounce it because said letter looked like an A but sounded like an O.  Her parents probably hadn’t even realized what they’d saddled her with because it was a perfectly fine name… in Norway.  Somewhere along the way, Åse had just given up and accepted that people would call her Ace. 

Shortly after they’d met, David asked Åse about the strange symbol in her name.  He thought about it and told her she deserved a pretty name like Åse rather than a cute but rather silly nickname like Ace.  She’d liked that.

Åse’s phone chimed with an incoming text with David’s photo and Toronto mailing address, and she immediately thought to herself, Wow, Amelia is gorgeous, and David is completely smitten.  She smiled at the photo of them looking lovingly at each other.  Maybe someone wonderful will look at me like that someday.

Åse went to find the perfect piece of glass as she considered possible designs for the necklace.  This sounded like fun, so she decided to make a new piece for Amelia rather than sending David one she already had in stock.  Normally, she’d be busily cranking out pieces for the art fair season, but she had plenty of inventory for now.  Having all of that stock made life easy, but unfortunately it meant her sales were down.

          For a long time, Åse’s jewelry design business had provided her with a more than decent income, but the past two years had been a struggle.  She wanted to live on her own income instead of the sizable life insurance settlement she had received, and she wanted to be frugal, even with that money in the bank. 

Åse had named her business Åse Heartware.  She often made heart-shaped pieces because she liked them and because they seemed to sell well.  Maybe it encouraged people to call her “Ace” instead of “OH-seh,” but that was part of the gag.  She just waited for the day she might hear from some Ace Hardware lawyer to cease and desist—she’d have plenty to say about that if it happened.

 

 

 

Chapter 2

Louisville, Kentucky

Four months after speaking to David about making the locket for him, Åse drove north to Indianapolis to attend David and Amelia’s wedding.  She was thrilled as well as relieved she hadn’t had an art fair that weekend.

Seeing her old friend David immensely happy had warmed her heart.  David and Amelia met with Åse before the ceremony when they bought some pieces from her for their wedding party.  She had adored Amelia as soon as they met each other, and realized David had found himself the perfect woman.  Amelia was charming and sweet, talented and incredibly gorgeous. 

David had also introduced Åse to his sister Molly.  She had an appointment to show Molly a bunch of her work in a few days.  They both thought David’s idea had some seriously great possibilities.  Molly had decided to redirect the focus of her boutique, and Åse’s jewelry might be just the thing to help along the transition.

 

 

It was now a week after the wedding, the first weekend of October.  For once, Åse could work all day for three days at Louisville’s famous St. James Court Art Show, and she could go home to her own bed at night.  The art fair began on Friday, historically their busiest day, but this year she found herself with far too much time to sit and daydream. 

The crowd at the art fair seemed to keep on the move.  She had some people pause and look at her jewelry, but so far, she’d only made a few small sales.  People seemed to think walking through an art fair provided a good way to exercise, socialize, and see pretty things, all for free.  This fair was an odd one though, and Åse could never understand the mindset of the crowd as it wandered past the rows of white tents.  The art was undeniably wonderful, but these folks barely looked right or left at the displays.  They looked like a herd of cattle all heading in one direction with an unknown purpose.  Each art fair seemed to have its own inherent personality, and this was the quirk of St. James.

Åse indulged herself in some mindless people-watching when she saw a young couple pause in front of her booth.  They had a stroller with a crying baby in it and a heavily panting dog on a leash.  Unfortunately, the two adults were more interested in visiting with another young couple who had two squirmy, unhappy looking little kids with them.  The dog, some kind of shaggy doodle thing, lifted his leg and peed all over Åse’s tent pole and tent weights in the front of her booth.

“Hey!  Your dog just made a mess on my booth!” she pointed out to the oblivious family.

They looked around and shrugged at her.  The father then said, “I guess he had to go.”

“Well, he didn’t have to do it on my property.  Can you clean it up, please?  There are signs all over the show that say No Pets.”  Åse tried to hand the guy a roll of paper towels and a bottle of water.

“Hey, lady, you need to chill,” he laughed and led his family away.  The other family just looked embarrassed and went the other direction.

Åse poured the water on the mess herself and mopped it up with the towels.  All she needed was a tent that smelled like dog pee.  Gross.

Her neighbor, Jake, a wonderful potter she’d known for years, came out and watched what she was doing.  “Yuck, I hate when that happens.  I feel like strangling people who bring their poor dogs to these things.  You just know they get overheated, and the owners don’t think to give them water.  The pavement has to burn their paws.  I wish the show committee would enforce the rule about no pets, but they never do.  At least it’s getting a little cooler now, and it’s not as bad as during the height of the summer months.”

“Yeah.  Total jerks.  So how are you doing?” Åse asked with a heavy sigh.

“Not as well as last year.”

They both laughed at that remark.  A show was never as good as “last year.”  Sad, but true.

“Are you considering making some ‘shit on a stick’ yet so you can make some money?” she asked with a laugh. 

“Bite your tongue, Ace.”

Åse snorted at him and then cracked up because just then, a guy walked by carrying a short pole that had some stupid decoration on the top.  It was meant to go in a garden, but the aesthetic quality of it was suspect, hence the nickname, “shit on a stick.”  Still, people walked by with that junk in their hands all day long.

 “I don’t understand the so-called artists who come here and sell that crap.  But I suspect at least some of it actually comes from the unjuried tents that are set up around the perimeter of the show.”  Jake looked thoughtful and continued, “Last month I was feeling so desperate for sales though, I considered making some.  Had them all planned out and everything.  The next day I felt so awful about selling myself out that way, I had to go to confession.”

“Huh?  I thought you were Jewish.”

Jake winked at her, saying, “Gotcha!”  Then he started on the “I can top you with stupid comments today” game they’d been playing for ages by saying, “Two women walked by this morning, and one of them pointed to the small decorative bowls I have in the front of my booth.  She said to her friend, ‘Wow.  Those are so pretty, if I liked my mom, I’d buy her one.’”

“Oh no.  That’s awful.  How many people have asked you today if you have something in a different color?”

“Only two so far.” 

Åse laughed, “Three for me so far.  I have a good one for you from Ann Arbor last July.  I was setting up my tent the day before the show started, and this poor kid came walking along the sidewalk behind all the tents, kind of yelling into his phone, ‘There are all these stupid white tents everywhere, and I can’t even find my bus stop!’”

Jake cracked up and asked, “Do you think he even noticed the street was closed and there were no busses anyway?”

“Who knows?  Poor guy.  But can you believe how the weather channels kept telling everyone to stay indoors because of the heat?  How is an art fair supposed to function with no customers?”

Jake shook his head.  “Yeah, it was brutal in many ways.  There were a few cases of heat exhaustion, I heard.”

Just then Åse heard the voice of a small child in her booth behind her saying, “Ooh!  Mommy would like these!”

Åse turned around and headed back behind her display case and plastered on her best smile for the terribly handsome father and little girl who were poring over her earrings.

“Are you looking for a gift for your mom?” she asked the girl who appeared to be around four years old and the cutest kid Åse had seen in a long, long time.  Her blonde hair haloed her sweet face with a riot of golden curls, and glittery butterfly clips held the wisps out of her eyes.  She had on pink and lavender, heavy on the sparkles, from head to toe.  A girly girl, through and through.

“It’s my mommy’s birthday tomorrow, and she’s the prettiest of all the mommies!”

“I bet she is if she looks like you.  Can I help you pick out something for her?  What’s her favorite color?”

“She likes all the colors!” crowed the little girl.

Her dad just chuckled softly.  He was also pretty darned gorgeous himself, with a thick head of unruly dark blond hair and piercing blue eyes.  He had a couple days’ worth of scruff and stood well over six feet tall.  Something about him made Åse think of a Viking.

“Do you have a price range in mind for her gift?”

“Yes!  What’s a pie strange?” the munchkin asked.

In a deep baritone voice, the man explained to her, “It means how much money you’ve saved up for the gift and what you’re willing to spend.”

“I saved five dollars.  That’s a lot!”

“Good for you!” exclaimed Åse.  “That is a lot of money to have saved.”  She smiled in earnest at this adorable kid.

The man looked Åse in the eyes and shook his head.  He mouthed, “It’s okay,” and smiled a charmingly crooked grin at Åse.  He could obviously see her price tags were way above $5 for any of her pieces.  Then he told her quietly, “I’ll cover the rest.  These do look like something she’d love.”  Åse could see the affection in his eyes. 

The guy held the little girl in his strong, muscular arms so she could see the earring carousel up close.  Thinking he’d like to use both hands, Åse brought around a sturdy step stool the girl could stand on.  That meant the dad could easily remove a particular pair for his daughter to examine.  Then he carefully put each one back again.  Åse appreciated that.  Some customers just left things in a mess when they were done.

“Thank you.  The step stool is thoughtful of you.”  He said this looking earnestly into Åse’s eyes. 

Åse blushed and said, “No problem.  I like to keep my customers comfortable.  Also, I could never manage my tent setup without a step stool.  As you can see, I’m vertically challenged.”

“You look just right to me,” he whispered as he looked into her eyes. 

Åse ducked her head down in embarrassment and tried to not blush.

For the next fifteen minutes, the little girl considered each pair of earrings seriously.  She oohed and aahed over each one like it was the crown jewels. 

“You know, I made all of the jewelry in my booth myself, so when you say you like something a whole lot, it makes me feel really good.  So, thank you!”

The little girl looked at Åse with huge, amazed eyes.  “Wow!”  She turned to the man and asked, “Can we tell Mommy I want to make pretty things too?”

“Sure, Sadie, but I think you’ll have to get a little older first.  Something tells me you aren’t quite ready for something like soldering.”

“What’s sawdoween?”

“He’s talking about how I put things together.  It takes a blowtorch, which is kind of like a fire gun, and a really hot flame.  So, he’s right, you need to be maybe a teenager before you try that.  You could learn how to make some beaded jewelry in the meantime though. That’s fun too.”  She enjoyed seeing the happy smiles on both their faces as they continued to study the earring display.

Åse had to politely excuse herself and take care of another shopper.  She sold a bracelet, a necklace, and a silver ring while Sadie and her dad were still considering the earrings.  The dad never seemed to be in a hurry to have Sadie make up her mind, and Åse could see him watching her as she wrapped and bagged the ring for the other customer.  His intent gaze made her blush even more, and she didn’t like the way it made her feel.  Well… she liked feeling attractive, but she sure didn’t want the attention of a guy with a wife and a kid. 

Finally, Sadie decided on a pair of silver and amethyst earrings that Åse had always loved.  The kid had excellent taste.  Wrapping them up, Åse told Sadie, “You’ve picked my favorite pair.  Good job!  I bet your mom is going to love these.”  She placed the wrapped purchase into a small bag with her business name and logo on it and added a business card. 

As they left the booth hand in hand, Sadie turned to Åse and said with a sweet smile, “Thank you.  You’re pretty like my mommy.”  Then she looked up at her father, and Åse thought she heard the little girl say something like, “Isn’t she, Honkadoo?”  But they were drifting away, and Åse couldn’t hear her clearly.  She figured she’d misheard. 

Åse had also been distracted by the fact that the dad reached down, while Sadie spoke to him, and grabbed one of the business cards off her display and slipped it into his jeans pocket.  She tried to ignore the nice shape of his butt on the other side of that pocket.  Hmm… interesting.  Maybe he wanted more jewelry for his wife.  People collected her cards all the time though, and 99% of the time, it meant nothing.

 

 

The rest of the day wore on.  She had her ups and downs sales-wise.  An older couple came in and looked carefully at her most expensive pieces and seemed to really like a particular jade and gold necklace.  They were full of compliments for her work.  Åse told herself not to get her hopes up when they told her they’d “be back.”  All art fair artists knew that “Be Backs” were everywhere.  The empty promise to “be back” provided a good way to admire something and leave with a clear conscience.  They rarely ever came back, unfortunately.

One of her lower points of the day happened when a lady came into her booth and asked her, “What is the best price you can give me for this brooch?”

“That is the final price.  I determine the cost of materials in each piece and add the amount of time I’ve taken to make it.  I’m quite competitive with all of the other jewelers you’ll see.”

“But is that the best you can give me?” the woman persisted.

“Yes, I’m afraid so.”  Åse tried to soften her seriousness with a smile.

“Okay, then I’ll take it if you don’t charge me tax.”

“I’m sorry.  I don’t charge sales tax.  The state does that,” she explained evenly.  “So, if I sell you something and don’t collect their tax, I can get into big trouble.”

“Cheap bitch,” the woman harrumphed.  She dropped the brooch onto the velvet display and flounced away. 

Åse tried to keep a good attitude after that.  It wasn’t the first time someone had tried to wangle a better price or skip out of paying tax, but it always bothered her.  Why did people think she wanted to scalp them?  An art fair is not a flea market!  She had a house to keep up and expensive materials to buy, not to mention she had to eat.  Did they go into Macy’s or Target and ask for a discount?  Or the grocery store?  She mentally shook her head.

Even worse than that was when someone asked for a special discount because selling to them would supposedly give her “lots of exposure.”  These people seemed to regard their circle of friends as so important and influential, just having someone wear her jewelry around them would suddenly catapult Åse to fame.  Yeah, right.  Everyone who asked for donations to their favorite charity told the same story.  This so-called rocket to stardom never happened for a single artist.  So, unless the artist particularly wanted to support that charity, it was a waste of time and money.  Åse had her own charities to support, thank you very much.

Soon after the accusatory woman’s visit, Åse had another would-be customer.  A young girl wandered in looking dreamy and… odd.  “Ooh, look at all the pretties!” she crooned.  “Do you have any mood rings?”

“No, sorry,” answered Åse with a polite smile.  “I have plenty of other rings though if you’d like to take a look.”

The girl looked crestfallen.  “Oh.  That’s too bad.  If you did, maybe you’d be in a better mood.  Your aura is very cloudy today.”  She drifted out, presumably to tell some other artist some nonsense.

Åse just shook her head.  That was a new one.

She spent a while straightening things and wiping handprints off her plexiglass case.  Her booth needed to look its best all the time.  No sooner had she finished, when a show juror came around with a clipboard and looked at everything carefully before leaving.  Apparently, everything looked fine. She knew other jurors would also be by, or had already been by, but were less obvious.

Her mood lifted when a group of twenty-something ladies came in and selected a bunch of pieces.  They were having a great time admiring themselves in the mirrors and chattering to each other about their tastes.  They had no problem with prices or tax.  What a relief.  By the time they left, Åse had sold quite a few items.

About an hour later, Åse started to feel terribly hungry, and she definitely needed a restroom.  She hated to bother Jake about watching her booth for a while, but the crowd appeared thin at the moment, and she didn’t see anyone from the show committee.  They were supposed to have booth sitters wandering around, but Åse couldn’t see a single one. 

“Hey, Jake.  I need to find the restroom and grab something to eat.  Can you watch my booth, and can I bring you anything?”

“Sure thing, Ace.  I would kill for a burger about now.  Take your time.  I know the drill.”

So off she hurried, hoping she wouldn’t miss out on The Sale of the Century by leaving.  She envied people who showed up with a partner and could take off whenever they needed to.  Dan had accompanied her once to a fair in the early days of their relationship, but he quickly grew bored with it and never offered much help.  Now she couldn’t help wonder if what he’d really liked about their relationship was her house more than her.  He remained an enigma for sure.  She pushed thoughts of him out of her mind.  Not worth it.

Åse rushed through taking care of business and finding them some burgers.  She really wanted a salad, but she’d take anything she could get quickly.  As soon as she had the food loaded up with condiments, she quickly made it back to her booth.  She felt herself sweating in the afternoon heat.  You just never knew about this show, weather-wise. 

“Anything happen while I was gone?” she asked Jake, handing him his lunch. 

“Yeah, actually.  An older couple came by and asked for you, but they’ll ‘be back.’  Supposedly.”  He thanked her for the food and handed her some cash.

Åse tried to not feel disappointed.  She went back behind her display case again and attempted to eat inconspicuously.  Between answering questions and just generally being polite to the people who wandered in and out of her booth, it took her a good thirty minutes to finally polish off her stone-cold burger.  At least she had plenty of refreshing drinks in her cooler. 

Then a terrific thing happened.  One of the show committee people came to the booth, smiling happily.  “Congratulations, Ace!  You’ve been voted Best in Show by the judges.”  She handed Åse a certificate and a ribbon.  “Your award comes with a check for one thousand dollars we’ll be mailing you, and you are automatically accepted into the show for next year.  You’ll still have to pay the booth fee, of course.” 

Well, that was really something. 

Jake and the other artists around her came over and congratulated her.  She’d won awards before, but none for $1,000.  At least she’d be in the black for this show.  Booth expenses ran hundreds of dollars per show, plus there were always transportation, hotel, and restaurant costs.  She also had to pay application fees and had to have current photos of her work all the time.  Costs for doing art fairs were not cheap, but for this one anyway, she’d make some money.  Åse felt pretty darn good. 

 

 

The fair went to 6:00 p.m. on Friday and Saturday and ended at 5:00 on Sunday.  Lots of artists could be seen quietly straightening their booths to close them down starting around 5:30 today though.  They would stay open until the dot of 6:00, but not a minute longer.  Åse never hurried to close down.  She had made too many nice sales in those last few minutes.  And sure enough, at 5:45 p.m. the couple who’d admired her work so much earlier that day came rushing up to her tent looking a little frantic.

“There you are.  We’ve been through the entire show, and your jewelry is the best of the whole thing!” exclaimed the woman.  “We want to buy that jade necklace for our daughter.  It’s just gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” replied Åse with a big smile.  “Is it a special occasion gift for her?  I’ll just wrap it up for you.” 

“She just passed the bar exam,” beamed the man.  “We think she deserves a prize for that.”

“Congratulations!  I can just imagine how proud you must be.  I feel honored to be part of the celebration.”  Åse slipped a business card into the bag and handed it to them with a big, sincere smile.  She presented them with an invoice, and they paid her in cash. 

 

 

The couple left just after 6:00 p.m.  Åse systematically took each piece of jewelry out of her display and down from her carousels and packed everything into her satchels.  Police guarded the show at night, but few jewelers felt brave enough to leave their work in their tents overnight, and definitely not any of the jewelers like Åse who used precious and semi-precious gems.  She had thousands of dollars’ worth of inventory. 

Finally, she had everything secured, and she rolled down the tent flaps and zipped them up for the night.  Parking in Louisville near the show was difficult, and she felt relieved she lived a few blocks away in Old Louisville.  She still had a long, hot walk, but she’d manage.  She secured her satchels to a rolling cart, and off she went with her keychain and a tiny can of mace securely attached to her wrist, happy to be going home for the night.

Lots of the artists led a gypsy’s life, living week-to-week in motorhomes, trucks, hotels, et cetera.  Some bunked with friends if they had them in the area, and some even camped.  She was thankful to be going home after this one show out of the entire year, but the rest of the year was more difficult for sure.  She didn’t know how much longer she could do it.  Even though there were people around her all the time at the fairs, she felt lonely.