Distant Shores

"It is, isnt it?"

Elizabeth spun around. With the suddenness of the movement, her hip hit a table; beach glass necklaces clinked together.

A woman stepped out from behind a hanging tapestry. She was at least six feet tall, and nearly as wide as she was tall. Her hair was a birds nest of brown frizz that hung to her waist. She had on a dress that could have doubled as a sackcloth and fell to her feet, which were bare except for the silver butterfly ring on her left big toe. A plunging neckline revealed breasts that quivered when she walked. A huge white bird was perched on her right shoulder.

She stepped closer, smiling. "Im Large Marge. " She grinned. "I picked up the nickname at a commune in the Bay Area. I never could figure out how a petite, retiring gal like me got saddled with a nickname like that, but there you have it. " She frowned dramatically. "Saddled was a poor word choice. I forbid you to run with it. "

"Ill rein myself in. "

Large Marge laughed heartily. The movement almost tossed her breasts into midair.

Elizabeth offered her hand. "Im Elizabeth Shore. Daniel Boudreaux asked me to stop by and see you. "

Marge grabbed Elizabeths hand and pumped it hard. "He told me about you. Im glad you stopped by. I wanted to talk to you about the Stormy Weather Arts Festival. "

"Its a big deal around here. "

"Thats what Danny tells me, though its hard to imagine an arts walk in this weather. Ive never seen so much rain. "

"We locals barely notice it, and the tourists find out too late. Id be happy to help you organize your gallerys event, if thats what youre interested in. I know whos who around here. "

"Organization skills I got. Local artists are scarce as hens teeth. It seems that all the good ones are already taken. " She studied Elizabeth. "Danny boy tells me your work might be worth exhibiting. "

Elizabeth laughed. "Yeah, right. "

Marge said softly, "He told me youd be scared. "

Elizabeths smile faded. She took a step back. She didnt mean to, and when she realized what shed done, she stopped. "I just started painting again, after years away from it. "

Marges gaze moved pointedly to Elizabeths wedding ring. "Raisin kids, huh?"

"Yes. " She smiled, though it felt grim, that smile, almost a grimace.

"Are you any good?"

"I was. " It was as confident as she could be.

Marge made a clicking sound, then snorted and slammed her hands on her fleshy hips. "Dannys take is good enough for me. Id like to show your work for the festival. "

"No. "

"Why not?"

Elizabeth didnt know what the right answer was. "What if its no good?"

"Then it wont sell. Or maybe itll sell anyway. Hell, honey, its art. Anything can happen. You want a guarantee, get a bank job. Whats the point of painting if no one ever sees it?"

"I suppose I could think about it. "

Marge glanced at the wall clock. "Ill give you three minutes. "

"Come on . . . "

Marge took a step closer. "I know you, Elizabeth. Hell, Ive been you. I spent ten years trying to fit my full-sized personality into a compact marriage. If you dont give me an answer right now, Ill never hear from you again. "

Elizabeth felt exposed by that observation. And empowered. She didnt need psychic abilities to hear Meghanns voice in her head: Damn it, Birdie, dont you dare hesitate. "How many pieces would you need?"

"Five. Is that possible?"